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outburst, nearly touching her with every inhalation. She leaned back harder against the countertop, the metal molding strip biting into her back.
    He didn’t seem like the kind of man to lose his temper. She’d have taken him for the type to hang on to his emotions, never swinging too far one way orthe other, always maintaining that sterling image. But she’d struck a nerve—two in one night, lucky her—and the calm, perfect facade had cracked to reveal a real man. She would have congratulated herself if this had been her office and she had been struggling for a breakthrough with him as a patient. Only he wasn’t a patient, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know what the man beneath the image was like. She didn’t want anything to do with him at all.
    “Have I made myself understood, Ms. Shaw?” Erik asked again.
    On one plane of awareness it occurred to him that this entire scene was somehow out of sync and out of character. They had only just met. But from the moment he had realized she wasn’t a juvenile delinquent, he had felt himself drawn to her, the way males had been drawn to females since time immemorial. They had been skirting the issue of attraction all night, circling around it like two cats wrangling for a tussle, feeling each other out in subtle ways. It seemed imperative that she understand now, before they knew each other a minute longer, that this electricity between them had nothing to do with anything except nature.
    He stared down at her, taking in the luminous green eyes that were fringed by thick, sooty lashes,the slim retroussé nose, the delicately carved cheekbones. Her skin was pale, a rose-and-cream hue that looked so soft his fingertips itched to caress it. And her mouth, oh, her mouth … It was naturally sultry, naturally pouty, not too wide but perfectly sculpted. Her lips were slightly parted now as she watched him, her breath slipping between them in shallow puffs.
    The ground seemed to shift slowly beneath his feet. The air around them grew dense and warm. Thoughts of their argument, of Horizon House, of everything else in the world spun away, allowing his mind to focus on one idea—he wanted to kiss her.
    Lynn saw it coming in the darkening of his eyes. She felt it coming as he leaned even closer, his head slowly ducking down toward hers. She felt it within herself, in the tingling of her breasts and the sudden sweet ache in the pit of her belly. She told herself this was the last thing she wanted, but she made no move to prevent it from happening.
    His lips brushed across hers in a gentle, testing kiss, a preliminary phase that allowed her to end it there if she wanted. He pulled back slightly, his gaze, hooded and liquid blue, searching hers, silently asking permission. For the life of her, Lynn didn’t know what her answer would be, but it didn’t matter, because she never got the chance to give it.
    The glass in the window behind her suddenly exploded, shards flying into the room like crystal daggers. Time fragmented along with the glass, seeming swift and slow at once. Instinctively, Lynn flinched, but she didn’t scream. Her brain couldn’t seem to assimilate the events taking place. All messages stalled out, shocked to a halt. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, pinned to the linoleum by the solid masculine weight of Erik Gunther.

The silence that came in its wake was nearly as deafening as the crash had been. For an instant, absolute stillness pressed in on Lynn’s ears. Then she became aware of the sound of her blood rushing in her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She turned her head away from the smothering warmth of Erik’s shoulder, her gaze taking in the broken glass scattered, jagged and glittering, on the kitchen floor. Still unable to comprehend what had just happened, she tried to rise, her mind latching on to the idea that she should get a broom and clean up the mess.
    Erik held her in place with his body. “Stay down,” he