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beach, in a city, in a barn. It takes something more elemental than walls and windows to bring two people together, and we both know that. But what I’d like for you is a place where you feel free to let down your hair, not care about the rules, about responsibilities. Admit it, sweet. Life teaches us all to be cautious, but that isn’t really what we want to be. That isn’t what you really want to be, now, is it?”
    “No…” She felt the faintest warmth color her cheeks, as if she’d confessed to the deepest, most intimate secret with that single word. It was so true, though. At times she’d felt trapped by the lessons life taught her, aware she was overly cautious and maybe too careful. No one wanted to bungle through life asking to be hurt…but she’d never wanted to be inhibited with Alan. Did he understand?
    The sleepy blue of his eyes somehow promised her he did. A dozen words surged to her lips, all wanting to escape at the same time. For forever she’d wanted to be honest with him, man-to-woman honest, intimately honest about secrets and fears and dreams. Maybe it was the craziness of the barn, or the champagne, or the unique flavor of the caviar, but she suddenly understood that she could have that kind of honesty with Alan if she just reached for it.
    And he was so close. He shifted, leaning over her. The pad of his thumb gently traced the shape of her bottom lip. “Where did you get those beautiful brown eyes?” he murmured.
    “Pardon?”
    Alan’s gaze slid from her eyes to her lips. She could feel him staring at her lips as one of his hands slowly reached down and undid the top button of her jacket. Then the second button. Then the third.
    “Safe can be nice,” he murmured gently. “In fact, I think that’s what first attracted you to me, wasn’t it, Caro? You’ve always felt safe with me. But maybe…you really never wanted to feel all that safe. And just maybe, it never occurred to you that the two of us are capable of something quite…dangerous together.”
    Again she tried to say something, but words failed her.
    Alan smiled with satisfaction, just before his mouth covered hers.
    Surrounded by the tattered scruff of beard, his lips were infinitely beguiling, wooing her down, deeper into the blanket. A swallow sang somewhere. Sandalwood and cold crisp air and the scent of straw assaulted her senses in a rush, as if no other smells had ever existed. A hum filled her ears with a whispered song about yearning and desire and magic. It was crazy, really.
    Alan’s tongue stole inside her mouth. Tongue tips touched; hers initially retreated. They were in a barn, she tried to remind herself. She had to muster up a little sense. It was midmorning. It wasn’t the right time of day. And Alan would certainly never…
    It seemed that Alan certainly would, because his fingers unfastened the last button of her jacket. His hand slipped inside, pushed up her heavy wool sweater, and in one smooth motion unlatched the front hook of her bra. For a moment, Carroll was distracted by the faintest whiff of feminine outrage. Where had he acquired the expertise to unlatch front-hooked bras like that? She’d never worn one before; the wisp of violet lace was brand-new…but then, a lot of things suddenly felt brand-new. Dangerously, deliciously new.
    Her breasts, for instance. Women were supposed to be so sexually sensitive around their breasts. Carroll had never felt that special sensitivity; it was simply nice, being touched. Alan’s thumb deliberately rubbed the nipple, teasing the tip with pressure and then softness, and suddenly “nice” had nothing to do with the throbbing sensations affecting her pulse. The tingles traveling up her spine were distinctly…wicked. Her breath caught, was immediately captured by Alan’s kiss.
    A lifetime later, he raised his lips, only to let them wander back down to her neck, then up to the shell of her ear. “I think,” he murmured, “you’re not feeling quite so