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forbidden treasure from Mount Olympus.
    Autumn felt the warmth of his tentative kiss and melted inside. Her arms rose and encircled his neck, pulling him closer. When he didn’t deepen the kiss, she boldly ran her tongue over his lower lip.
    Thane felt the electrifying heat of her playful move clear down to his toes. Desire swelled, and need throbbed. He lost the control he had been hanging on to by sheer willpower. He plunged his tongue past her moist lips and stormed the gates of heaven.
    The sound of her moan brought him back to his senses. He broke the kiss immediately and hungrily gazed at her moist, pink mouth. What was he doing? He should definitely not be kissing Autumn. She was the granddaughter of one of his patients and a royal thorn in his side. The woman had single-handedly been sabotaging the home’s chances to be number one. Any idiot would know not to mix business with pleasure.
    He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened.”
    Dazed, Autumn looked around and wondered why she’d invited his kiss. She slowly sat up and busied herself by brushing the leaves from her sweater. With her eyes lowered, she said, “Don’t apologize. I asked for it.”
    Thane tried to read her expression. He couldn’t. He watched in silence as she got to her feet, and then slowly joined her. He got the impression he had hurt her with his apology. What was he supposed to do now, apologize for apologizing? If the jury was still deliberating on whether he was an idiot or not, another apology would surely sway the doubtful.
    Autumn gave the scattered leaves a vicious swipe with the rake. The flush of humiliation sweeping up her face clashed with her tangled red hair. She couldn’t believe she actually asked for and enjoyed the kiss. Doc Clayborne was the last man in the Milky Way who should attract her. The man was a bona fide hero. His kisses were probably tinted red, white, and blue, while a yellow streak ran down her back. To add insult to injury, he had the audacity to apologize.
    Keeping a safe distance from Autumn and the swinging rake, he picked up the full basket of leaves. “Where do you want me to dump these?”
    Over your head would be nice , she thought, but she answered, “Behind the house is a compost.”
    Thane bit the inside of his cheek. He had read her expression and knew exactly what she wanted to say. He couldn’t blame her either. His behavior could be classified as borderline schizophrenic. For six months they had circled each other like wary dogs, two days before they had struck a bargain, and now he couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but the delicious sweetness of her mouth. As he walked around to the back of the house, he wondered if he had been spending too much of his time with work. Maybe he should take more interest in pursuing a social life.
    Autumn turned off the kitchen faucet and reached for a towel. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? It’s the least I can do for all your help.” Seeing his hesitation, she added, “We could discuss the Halloween party.”
    Thane lifted the lid off the pot simmering on the stove and sniffed. The delightful aroma he’d smelled when he’d first walked into her kitchen was too tempting. “Homemade vegetable soup?”
    “And grilled cheese sandwiches. Sorry I don’t have anything fancier, but I wasn’t expecting company.”
    He glanced around the small, neat kitchen and came to the same conclusion he had about the living room. Autumn had not changed a thing since Paddy was placed in Maple Leaf. Quilted lemon-yellow vinyl covers protected the toaster and mixer, and a faded plastic flower arrangement decorated the small chrome-and-formica dining table. Norman Rockwell could have used the room as scenery for one of his paintings. Autumn looked about at home in it as Margaret Mead would have In Times Square. “Are you sure you have enough?”
    “Positive.”
    “I wouldn’t be keeping you from