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meet his. Their eyes locked for a suspended, meaningful moment. "Yes," he assured her, "that's something I've known for a long time."
    "It's gettin' dark," Edward said, unintentionally breaking the tension. "You two had best hit the road before Mom lectures you into old age. Though I dare say at the rate you two young 'uns are going, you're gonna end up stuck with each other."
    "Ed, what a horrible thing to say. And you think I'm bad about lecturing."
    Edward laughed. Dorothy joined him. Grant sent Cammie a half-smile, but the force of his gaze was enough to send her reeling.
    Cammie could feel herself visibly pale, while her stomach churned in a good imitation of his hot tub.
    "Love you, Mom. You too, Dad." Grant gave them a parting embrace, then walked to the passenger side of the Porsche and opened the door. "Cammie, ready?"
    Cammie stifled a gasp of disbelief that he would be so blatant in front of them, but was saved by Dorothy's misguided praise.
    "Isn't that nice to see Grant open the door for his sister, Ed? Seems all those years we spent drilling them on manners really did sink in."
    Making her final good-byes as hastily as possible, Cammie slid onto the seat. She reached for her seat belt, but Grant beat her to it.
    "Let me," he whispered, for only her ears to hear.
    She sat still as stone, an aura seeming to surround the spot on her hand he'd just brushed. Though he was mercifully quick, it seemed she sat there an eternity while he fastened the seat belt as their parents chatted gaily on.
    Didn't they know what was happening? she wondered. Couldn't they tell she was betraying their trust? Wasn't her flushed face and thundering heartbeat enough to announce her crime, her impure response to their son? Or maybe they were as blind as she had apparently been all these years. Lucky them. Ignorance, in this case, was bliss.
    Grant's door shut, the sound snapping her out of the mire of her thoughts. Forcing a smile, she blew a kiss to her adoptive parents as they held hands, waving good-bye.
    Cammie watched them in the side-view mirror as Grant pulled away from the curb. They stood in front of the modest but cozy house they had taken her into and had insisted she belonged in as much as their own children. Her insides twisted with the memory. Was this how she paid them back for their kindness? And what about Grant? How could he so callously dismiss their feelings?
    His hand reached for hers. The turmoil she felt was horrible, knowing they could possibly be creating a catastrophe. But his touch felt so incredibly right, so perfect and sure and deliciously heady.
    Despite this clash of opposing forces, she didn't try to move away. It was wrong, yet too good to deny. The least she could do was punish herself with it.
    She did. She didn't let herself look at Grant, but faced the mirror until home and family were mere specks in the distance.

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    If Cammie was thankful for one thing, it was for Grant remaining silent as the miles slipped by. The only sound was the slight stream of air whistling through the window she'd cracked open, mingling with the tape pulsing out a medley of sensual songs.
    Why was it, she wondered, when they had listened to the same songs so often she'd lost count, the music had never had this effect on her before? Stirring her senses, making her acutely aware of the man who so artfully stroked her palm before bringing her hand to his lips without looking away from the road.
    She didn't pull free. Lord help her for being weak in a way she'd never dreamed possible. Then again, she didn't return his caresses. She forced herself not to participate, only to allow, to take.
    Didn't that make her less a conspirator? Not a victim, not by a long shot, but not a willing participant. At least that's what she told herself, trying to ease a small measure of the guilt for enjoying it so much. Enjoy? Now that was so huge an understatement, she couldn't even swallow it herself. She was greedy for