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right time, a gentle nudge in the right direction has been known to move mountains. You moved my mountain, January,” he teased in an intentional bid to lighten what was fast becoming a heavy conversation. “And now I’d like to move yours.” He flashed her a grin full of innuendo.
    She wanted to smile; he could see it in her eyes. But she fought off the urge, as he suspected she was fighting off many other urges. “My mountain’s just fine where it is, thank you.”
    “Is that another way of saying no, you still won’t consider the article?”
    She hesitated, then said softly, “That’s another way of saying no.”
    He was prepared for that answer, but he had no intention of giving up. “Then I guess that gets us back to dinner. I know tonight’s out, but would you consider letting me take you to the Flagstaff House on Saturday?”
    She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a sigh of exasperation. “You just don’t quit, do you?”
    He pulled up in front of the modest house he’d driven by several times during the last week and shut off the motor. Turning toward her, he propped one arm on the seat back and the other over the steering wheel. “No, January. I don’t quit. Not when I’m going after something I really want.”
    An awareness flickered in her eyes that even the twilight of evening couldn’t hide. “There . . .” She stopped and cleared her throat. “There must be a hundred more marketable topics you could write about.”
    He leaned toward her and deftly unfastened her seat belt. “I’m not talking about the article. I’m talking about you.” Watching her profile, he let that settle before adding in a voice that sounded as thick as the suddenly pulsing flesh at his groin, “I want to see you, January. You fascinate me.”
    She sucked in a sharp breath. It made a thready little sound that added to the sweet discomfort in the lower part of his body.
    “I frustrate you,” she corrected him with conviction. “You’re just not used to being told no.”
    He cupped her jaw in his hand and slowly turned her face toward him. “What I’m not used to is being turned inside out by the sound of one woman’s voice, by the thought of how one woman’s mouth would feel opened against mine.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. When her small pink tongue unconsciously slipped between her lips to wet them, he damn near exploded. “Do you think about that, too, January? Do you think about what it would be like with me?”
    She seemed to wilt, to go all soft and yearning right before his eyes. Then she swallowed hard and met his gaze with a fire in her eyes that even the night’s rain wouldn’t have doused. “You’re out of line, Hayward.”
    He sighed deeply. “I know. I just don’t know what to do about it. I’m coming on like a stag during the rutting season, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I really wanted to take this slow. But being around you is like some grueling exercise in self-restraint.”
    “Restraint,” she whispered in a thin voice, “is not a word I would have used in relationship to you.”
    Hearing a certain gentling, sensing a tentative yielding, he slid his hand into the wealth of heavy hair at the nape of her neck. “I want to kiss you, January. Would you let me?”
    She shook her head, but her denial lacked real conviction.
    He touched a finger to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t send a kitten to do a cat’s work, Counselor,” he warned softly. “If you really mean no, you’ll have to be more convincing than that.”
    When she swallowed hard yet said nothing, he pressed the issue gently. “Just once. Only once . . .”
    Her eyes were big and round and uncertain as he lowered his mouth to hers. “No, baby,” he whispered, dropping a tender kiss of introduction at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t be afraid. I’d never hurt you.”
    But she was afraid. He could feel it beneath his hand as he stroked her hair, beneath his lips as they