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voyeurism. There’s no way in hell I’m actually going to touch you, woman, you’d burn me alive.” Once again, there was no real heat in his voice.
    “I want you to touch me.” She was confused by the intensity of her need. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m sitting here aching for you so desperately I’d agree to damned near anything. This isn’t normal for me, Callan.”
    “So hunt up an old lover.”
    “I’d have to have one first,” she snapped, offended by the desperation in his tone. “Forget it. I’m not going to beg.”
    “But I might—” he bit out. “Tell me you’re not a fucking virgin.”
    “No, I’m not a fucking virgin. Virgins have yet to fuck, remember?”
    He cursed. Low, rough, a rumble amplified by the phone connection as heat seemed to sear her across the airwaves.
    “I want inside you so bad my cock is about to burst,” he bit out. “You’re fucking dangerous.”
    “So jack off again,” she snarled. “No, wait an hour first. I want to at least watch.”
    The phone disconnected. Merinus threw it across the room as a squeal of feminine outrage erupted from her throat. Damn him. She ached. No she didn’t, she hurt. And all she could think about was that thick cock sliding into her, thrusting hard and deep, her vagina milking it, caressing it deeper and tighter than his hand had done days before.
    Enough was enough. The game was over. She would be damned if she would lie here, virtually in heat, dying for some hick moron’s touch that didn’t want her. She would take him the message her father sent her and get it over with. Lay the offer on the table then head for home. She didn’t need this, and she didn’t need him. Now, if she could just convince her body of that.

CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Have you finished hiding from me?”
    Callan knew he was in trouble when he saw her approach him moments before. Trouble was always recognizable. It had a scent, a feel, a low vibration of warning that thrummed through his veins. This feeling rioted through his system now. She stood beside him, watching him with a frown as he tinkered with the reluctant engine of his old truck once again and fought to get a handle on his self-control. The scent of her drifted on the breeze, the scent of fresh, clean woman, the beginning heat of arousal. Those scents lay around her now, tempting him, drawing him.
    “Are you going to answer me?” she inquired, tilting her head, irritation flashing over her expression.
    Long strands of straight, thick brunette hair fell over her shoulder, caressing silken skin and tempting his hands. Dammit, he didn’t need this kind of trouble. Not after that phone call earlier, not after the hot surge of lust her offer had hit him with.
    “I’m in plain sight. How’s that hiding?” He tested a line into the carburetor. “Now what the hell did you want with me? Didn’t those soldiers give you a nice little warning, Ms. Tyler? They play for keeps.”
    She was intent on ignoring the danger of the situation evidently. She leaned her bare arms against the side of the truck, peering into the guts as though she knew what the hell she was doing.
    “A friend sent me.” She shrugged. That movement caused the gentle curve of her breasts to rise a shade above the scooped neckline of the sleeveless top she wore.
    Red. Dammit, it should be a crime for a woman that damned pretty to wear red.
    He glanced at her. Her brown eyes, clear and wide, studied the motor intently, rather than looking at him. The sweet spice of her need wrapped around him, making his cock harden demandingly. Big problem, Callan thought. Literally.
    “So who sent you?” he questioned her with mild interest. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”
    “Maybe not.” She glanced up at him, suspicion riding her expression. “But your mother had a few. My father sent me to extend his condolences and to see if you needed anything.”
    He glanced at the woman again. Her gaze was knowing now. She had