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backpack, extricating a towel. “Pillow,” he said, folding it and placing it on the impromptu bed. He stretched out his long form and patted the seat beside him, then rested his head on the makeshift pillow. His arm was open wide, as though he expected her to l ie next to him.
    “What are you doing, Marcus?” Even to her own ears her accent was thick, as if she’d never left the island.
    “I ’m getting comfortable. We have a long night ahead of us, Crescentia. I’ve already shown that I have your best interests at heart. As much as I’d love to spend the night getting to know every inch of your luscious body, to hear you scream my name in passion, begging me for more, it won’t happen. I don’t have the necessary precautions, and I won’t risk your future for a few hours of ecstasy. Even if it promises to be the greatest night of my life.”
    She moved up the makeshift bed but remained sitting. “You have a way with words. I must remember that most of what you say is fiction.”
    He looked as though she’d slapped him. He sat up and reached a gentle hand out to her hair, twining a loose curl around his index finger, before he stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I write fiction. I speak truth. You feel this incredible chemistry between us. We’d be idiots to deny it, especially after the kiss .”
    Heat invaded her face and she was glad her dark skin hid her blush. “I’m sorry. The storm, the difficult day, I shouldn’t have, uh, attacked you like that.”
    His laugh filled the van again. It had been ages since someone had laughed so much in her presence. Uncle Robert used to laugh. Now worries over money and health had eaten up his happiness.
    His hand caressed her cheek again. “Please, will you let your hair down ?”
    “Why?” She reached up to remove the elastic and clips without waiting for his answer. Her curls fell in a heap down her back and around her face. It was ludicrous to have such impossible, long hair. However , every time she thought of cutting it, her mind would flash back to her mother stroking her hair, telling her how beautiful it was. She was fortunate to have spiral curls and not the full tight afro that most of her family had.
    As she shook out her hair, relieved of the pressure of having it pulled tight for the whole day , she heard Marcus suck in a deep breath.
    He lay back down. “I ’m going to lie here and pretend we have just made love, although my body is going to deny it. I’m going to pretend I’ve experienced the most fantastic night of my life, and I’m now satiated and ready for pillow talk. Lie in my arms, Crescentia, and tell me all the things I was too caught up in passion to find out.”
    His voice was compelling, his reasoning completely flawed, but she couldn’t resist. She lay down, put her head on his chest , and his arm came around her, holding her close. If they had made love it would be natural to be like this. Maybe she could pretend as well. Except her body wanted the physical release.
    “I think, seeing as how we’ve made love and all, you can call me Crescy.”
    “Thank God, my tongue was getting tired, saying your full name. Still, I think I’ll call you Crescentia when we’re in company so no one suspects.”
    “Suspects what?” It was way too comfortable lying in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. She resisted the urge to run her hand up his side and across his chest. He’d held back once to protect her ; it wasn’t fair of her to test his restraint. At least tonight. Tomorrow would be another day.
    “That we’ve spent the night together. It will be our secret.”
    A true gentleman. She wasn’t sure what to do with him, although her body had plenty of ideas. Her hand curled into a fist, desperate to touch him. It was going to be a long night.
    ***
    A shaft of sunlight pierced her eyelids. She must have been really tired last night because she’d forgotten to close her blinds. Thank God it was Sunday and she