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tamed by moisture. Rivulets of water would be streaming down his body, tangling in the hairs on his chest, sparkling little prisms where the light caught moisture in the curls. His arm would be bent so that the muscles bulged as he rubbed soap over his bronzed flesh.
    She shuddered, and it was real... her fingers tracing the bulge of his biceps as warmth grew deep inside her body. He'd been muscular the last time she touched him, but he felt stronger now, harder and tougher. With water touching everywhere, he would... she would...
    No!
    People did crazy things in times of crisis, got swept away by emotion that wasn't real. Reality was her home and her practice, Chris at the university, and Alex asking her to marry him.
    She tore the cardboard off the frozen pizza and yanked the oven door open. She was off balance, worrying about Chris, not quite sane. By the time Gray came back downstairs, she'd be in control again and she'd persuade him to help in the search.
    * * *
    Gray closed his eyes and let the ice water run down his shoulders, freezing the memories. She wasn't his woman, not anymore, but just moments ago, watching her in his kitchen, he'd seen a flash of pain in the blue-gray of her wide eyes before she masked it, as if he'd hurt her with his impatient words.
    She hadn't cut her hair after all. It was twisted up in a knot at the back of her head, a few strands escaping. If he had reached over and pulled the pins out, the whole golden mass would have tumbled down over her shoulders, turning Emma soft and vulnerable. With the feel of her hair in his hands, he would—
    He wouldn't do a damned thing! He'd lost Emma a hell of a long time ago. There'd never really been a chance, but looking at her tonight, feeling her body against his out there on the front porch, for one crazy instant he'd felt his heart lurch because she was so soft in his arms, because she'd come to him.
    If he'd done things differently, he could have won her all those years ago, but it would still have been a disaster. Emma needed all life could give her, and Gray was his father's son.
    He turned the icy water off and stood with his hands flat against the wall of the shower. No sounds, just the water draining. He could sense Emma downstairs, the same way he knew when a grizzly was near.
    She'd grown an arresting layer of calm over those passions, gained an air of confidence to erase her old insecurities. Despite the differences, he'd recognized the old Emma flashing through in a way he found more disconcerting than simply facing the girl he remembered.
    Cool on the outside, heat flashing through, her long waves caught in a trap of hairpins. She seemed stronger, an impression given by her eyes and the way she moved when she walked. Yet he'd felt her gasp as his arms trapped her against his body, as if she were the same innocent, sensual creature he remembered.
    She'd come to him for help, and the Emma he remembered was passionately determined when she wanted something. She didn't give up, and she had a knack for finding his weak spots.
    He'd talk to her, offer her his spare room for the night.
    In the morning, he would send her away.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    Emma prowled restlessly as she waited for Gray to return. The shower sounds had stopped a few minutes ago. He would be naked now, toweling himself dry, barefoot as he went from the shower to his bedroom for clothes. Did he have a towel wrapped around his waist?
    Stop it!
    She and Alex hadn't made love yet. She'd been avoiding it, she supposed, thinking of them as friends until he suggested marriage, and Alex hadn't pushed. If his beeper hadn't gone off Wednesday night, would they have made love after she'd agreed to marry him? Maybe not, because she'd already been so worried about Chris. But once Chris was safe, when she got back home, then they would.
    She hadn't had a naked man in her house since Paul's death, and even then—
    Abstinence, that's what was wrong with her. Abstinence with worry