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one of the treasured theories on the art of camouflage," he told her reproachfully. "You were supposed to say the scar. A scar like that sticks in the mind and it makes the rest of the features fade out of sight. At least it's supposed to make them fade out of sight."
    She shrugged. "Sorry. You shouldn't have eyes like that if you don't want to be remembered."
    Any reply he might have made was lost as their waiter returned with two hamburgers and a giant basket of french fries. Conversation was postponed in favor of biting into the thick, juicy burgers. Once their initial hunger was eased, they began to talk.
    Holly set down her hamburger and nodded toward one of the hanging birds. "My brother would love this place."
    Mac stiffened but she was looking away and missed the intense look he gave her.
    "Your brother?" he murmured.
    She nodded. "James loves tacky places like this. It's ridiculous, really. He minored in art in college. You'd think he'd have better taste."
    "Is he teaching art now?" he asked casually, wondering if she'd notice the tension in his voice. Damn! He hated this assignment!
    "Uh-uh," she mumbled through a bite of meat. "He followed Dad into the diplomatic corps. He's working in Europe now. In fact, that's why he didn't come to Tijuana with me last month. He had to fly to Washington to get the details on his new job. I'm really going to miss him."
    "You sound as if you're close." That's right, torture yourself by finding out just how hurt she'll be if you help put her brother away.
    Unaware of her companion's dilemma, Holly nodded. "James and I have always been close. We think a lot alike, I guess."
    "Well, I can't really say that I'm sorry he didn't go to Tijuana with you. You might not have needed my help if he had." His slow smile made her heart pick up an extra beat and her mouth trembled slightly as she nodded her agreement.
    The conversation moved on casually. Holly told him some of the more adventurous aspects of dealing with a group of five- and six-year-olds, selecting all the funniest stories just for the pleasure of seeing him smile. It was odd, she thought as she nibbled on one last fry. She didn't know this man at all and yet she was so comfortable with him.
    That feeling of safe familiarity lasted until he pulled the sedan into a parking place outside her apartment building. The car suddenly seemed remarkably small and the warmth that had been just perfect only moments ago was now overpowering.
    Mac shut off the engine, leaving them cocooned together with only the soft hiss of the rain and the distant traffic noise for company. The silence grew and she turned her head slowly, almost reluctantly.
    The warmth of his gaze made the heater superfluous. If she had been standing in the middle of Antarctica wearing nothing but a bikini, she was sure that just one look from him would have been enough to heat her blood to a fever temperature.
    Holly was helpless to protest as his long fingers slid into the hair at the back of her neck and he eased her gently toward him. She let him pull her across the seat without a murmur of dissent. In fact, she was conscious of a vague gratitude that he'd had the foresight to own a car without a gear console. Her hands were dwarfed by the the broad strength of his chest.
    "Holly." Her name was a mere breath, a prayer, a sigh of recognition. Her eyes fluttered shut as his mouth touched hers and the world tilted. The kiss was a startling contrast to the gentle pressure of his hands in her hair. His lips did not ask her response; they demanded it. This was not an exploratory first kiss; it was a kiss between two people who had been lovers forever. After a moment of stunned surprise, Holly met the demand eagerly, her lips parting to capture the invading thrust of his tongue, her short nails digging into the front of his shirt.
    The soft thickness of his mustache rubbed across her upper lip, setting her nerve endings on fire. She arched toward him and her tongue came up to