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danger. Quickly she jerked back, but he cupped his hand around the base of her neck. She managed a startled “no!” before his mouth closed over hers.
    The kiss began light and teasing. Indeed, she could feel the curve of a small smile on the lips that touched hers. Perhaps if she had struggled, perhaps if her protest had continued, it would have stopped at a careless brush of lips. But as their mouths met, Foxy froze. It seemed her heart stopped pumping, her lungs stopped drawing and releasing air, her pulse stopped beating as her blood lay still. Then, in a sudden wild fury, her blood began to swim again.
    Who deepened the kiss first she would never know. It seemed instantaneous. Hot and hungry, their mouths took from each other in a moist, depthless, endless kiss. The muffled groan that touched the air might have come from either of them or both. Her breasts were soft and yielding against his chest as she used tongue and teeth and lips to take the kiss still deeper. He explored all the intimate recesses of her mouth while she wallowed in his flavor, his scent, in the feel of his skin against hers. His hand moved once in a long, bruising stroke down her back and waist and over her hip and thigh. The thin material of her dress was little more than air between them. At the rough caress, Foxy strained closer, nipping his lip to provoke more heat. His answer was to crush her mouth savagely, desperately, until her senses tangled into ecstatic confusion. With a quiet sound of pleasure, she went limp in his arms. Their lips clung for an instant longer as he drew her away.
    Her eyes seemed as gray as his as they watched each other in silence. Her arms were still locked around his neck. Foxy could no longer smell the flowers but only his warm, male aroma, she could no longer hear the laughter of the party for the quiet sound of his breathing, she could no longer feel the breeze, but only the spreading heat of his hands. Only he existed. An owl swooped from the tree behind them and hooted three times. Instantly the spell was shattered. Foxy shuddered, swallowed, and struggled to her feet.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have done that.” As tingles continued to race along her skin she avoided his eyes and brushed distractedly at the skirt of her dress.
    â€œNo? Why not?” Lance’s voice was as calm as a shrug. “You’re a big girl now.” He stood, and she was forced to tilt her head to see his face. “You enjoyed that as much as I did. It’s a little late to play the flustered maiden.”
    â€œI’m not playing the flustered maiden,” Foxy denied hotly as her eyes shot back to his. “Whether I enjoyed it or not is beside the point.” Realizing she was fitting his description precisely, she tossed her hair behind her back in annoyance. She planned to make a dignified exit as she stepped from the glider, but Lance stopped her with a hand on her arm before she had taken two steps across the grass.
    â€œWhat is the point, Fox?” He no longer sounded amused or calm but irritated.
    â€œThe point is,” she said between her teeth, “don’t do it again.”
    â€œOrders?” he murmured softly. “I don’t take orders very well.”
    â€œI’m not asking for a ham on rye,” she countered. “I was off guard.” Foxy tried to reason out her response to him while justifying it. “And—and tired and perhaps a bit curious. I overreacted.”
    â€œCurious?” His laugh was male and again amused. “Did I satisfy your curiosity, Foxy? Maybe like Alice, you’ll find it ‘curiouser and curiouser.’ ” He trailed his fingers lightly up her arm. Foxy shied away as her skin trembled.
    â€œYou’re impossible!” She pushed the hair from her face in impatient fury. “You’ve always been impossible.” With this, she whirled and ran toward the safety of the party. Lance watched her dress float and