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tersely, her confusion narrowing into a harried wariness.
    “I have such fantasies about librarians. If I’d known that last week at the show …” His voice was soft, his half-smile slow, direct. “Why wouldn’t you let me kiss you?”
    Draped against the bricks, waiting impatiently, the man in the suede coat had begun to develop a smirk. Pitiless. They were both pitiless, spoiled, much-sought-after macho hunks who were finding some sadistic entertainment in tormenting an awkward, bashful girl. But this shaken victim was not as defenseless as she seemed. Why wouldn’t she let him kiss her? he had asked.
    “I thought it might not be a good idea,” she snapped. “I’m allergic to penicillin.”
    The words were not meant to be friendly, but as these things always happened, they sounded considerably worse aloud. His bright gaze held hers, never wavering. He even smiled. And when the man in the suede coat said, “Does she mean?…” he answered in an even tone, “She’s afraid I might give her a social disease.”
    The words were light, ironic rather than bitter, betraying none of the private sentiments beneath. The smile had grown wider, infinitely more dangerous,when he said, “Don’t worry, Jennifer Hamilton. They give me a patch test once a week. So this is going to be perfectly safe.” A dollar came out of his jacket pocket, and before she had guessed what he was going to do, he had tucked it into her waistband.
    “A donation,” he said. “I give kisses for them—do you?”
    Instinct warned her before he moved to take her, and she was stumbling backward when his hands closed on her shoulders and drew her close. She could feel the hard lineup of their thighs, the crush of her belly and breasts against his yielding jacket that tightened to their shape. Her gaze was caught helplessly in his, lotus petals swirling in a blue floodwater, and she was paralyzed everywhere. Her respiration grew shallow, a faint warm pressure against lips parting slowly in wonder at the caressing expectation flowering within her. And she knew that in spite of everything she wanted him, wanted this kiss. His hand was moving gently around her neck, moving upward, cupping and tilting the back of her head, his fingers spreading deliciously through her hair. Ermine-soft in cashmere, his little finger stroked dainty tremors into her spine.
    His mouth descended to hers with throat-stopping languor, his eyes holding her entranced until his dark-tipped lashes drifted closed, veiling the brightness. And her eyes closed too, and as his breath swirled lightly with hers, she took a quick, fearful inbreath, and then in the darkness felt his lips come against hers, hardly touching. Her heartbeat hammered in her throat, in her head, and she let his tightening grip press herhips into his thighs and she burned there, and on her mouth where he was pressing the cool satin of his lips. His breath warmed her cheeks and chin as his tongue followed the modeling of her lips before touching into her mouth with gentle force. And through her body she could feel the scoring heat of it as his hand pushed up on her lower back and bottom, making her slide against him.
    When at last he pulled back from her, her numbed gaze wandered over his face, the vivid eyes, the mouth, deliciously damp from her. His hand, which had been cupping the back of her hair, slipped underneath her jaw, cradling her chin.
    “Jennifer Hamilton,” he said softly, framing both words as though he were committing them to memory. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
    Then she was released. As the trance began to shatter around her, she saw in a bewildered way that a straggling crowd had gathered. Next to the hunk in suede stood a third man with dark curling hair and gray eyes. His hands were thrust into his ribbed leather jacket.
    “The things I miss by being last to cash my check,” the stranger said, directing a droll smile at Philip. “I don’t know what in the name