Gage's expression cooled considerably. "It would help." he said in a pleasant tone, "if you'd tell me what we're talking about."

"You know exactly why I'm angry. You hired someone to follow me. You've been spying on me. I don't understand why. I've done nothing to deserve being treated like this—"

"Calm down."

Most men don't seem to get that telling a pissed-off woman to calm down is like throwing gunpowder on a fire.

"I don't want to calm down. I want to know why the hell you've done this!"

"If you kept your promise." Gage pointed out. "you have no reason to worry about someone keeping an eye on you."

"Then you admit you hired someone to follow me? Oh, God, you did, I can see it on your face. Damn you, I haven't slept with him. You should have trusted me."

"I've always believed in the old saying 'Trust but verify.'"

"That may work great for business," I said in a murderous voice, "but not in a relationship. I want it stopped now. I don't want to be followed anymore. Get rid of him!"

"All right. All right."

Surprised that he'd agreed so readily, I shot him a wary glance.

Gage was staring at me oddly now, and I realized I was trembling visibly. My rage had fled, leaving me with a sense of sick despair. I wasn't at all certain how I'd gotten to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between two ruthless men.. .not to mention Churchill. I was tired of it. tired of everything, especially the swarm of unanswered questions. I didn't know where to go or what to do with myself.

"Liberty," he said carefully, "I know you haven't slept with him. I do trust you. Damn it. I'm sorry. I couldn't stand back and wait when I wanted something—someone—this badly. I can't let go of you without a fight."

"Is this all about winning? Is it some kind of contest to you?"

"No, it's not a contest. I want you. I want things I'm not sure you're ready to hear about yet. Most of all I want to hold you until you stop shaking." His voice turned hoarse. "Let me hold you, Liberty."

I was still, wondering if I could trust him. wishing I could think straight. As I stared at him, I saw the frustration in his eyes, and the need. "Please," he said.

I went forward, and he caught me tightly against him. "There's my girl," came his low murmur. I buried my face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar spice of his skin. Relief flowed over me, and I fought to get closer, needing more of him than my arms could encompass.

After a while Gage eased me to the sofa, kneading my back and hips. Our legs tangled together, and my head was on his shoulder, and I would have thought I was in heaven if the sofa hadn't been so hard.

"You need throw pillows." I said in a muffled voice.

"I hate clutter." He shifted to look down at me. "Something else is bothering you. Tell me what it is and I'll fix it."

"You can't."

"Try me."

I longed to confide in him about Churchill and Carrington. but I had to keep it private for now. I didn't want Gage to handle it for me. and I knew he would if I told him.

This was between Churchill and me.

So I shook my head, burrowing closer, and Gage stroked my hair. "Stay with me tonight," he said.

I felt fragile and raw. I savored the hard-muscled surface of his arm beneath my neck, the reassuring warmth of his body. "Okay." I whispered.

Gage looked down at me intently, his hand cradling the side of my face with infinite gentleness. He kissed the tip of my nose. "I have to leave before dawn. I've got a meeting in Dallas, and another at Research Triangle."

"Where is that'1"

He smiled and traced my cheekbone with a lazy fingertip. "North Carolina. I won't be back for a couple of days." Continuing to stare at me. he started to ask something, then checked himself. He lifted from the sofa in a fluid movement, pulling me up with him.

"Come on. You need to go to bed."

I went with him to the bedroom, which was dark except for the glow of a small lamp focused on the ocean painting. Feeling shy, I undressed and put on the white T-shirt Gage handed to me. Gratefully I crawled between the slick, luxurious sheets. The light was extinguished. I felt the weight of Gage's body depress the mattress. Rolling toward him. I snuggled close and hitched my leg over him.

Pressed together as we were, I couldn't help noticing the hard, almost scorching pressure of him against my thigh.

"Ignore it," Gage said.

That made me smile in spite of my fatigue. I brushed my lips furtively against his throat. The warm scent of him was all it took to start my pulse beating in a swift erotic tattoo. My toes delicately explored the hairy surface of his leg. "It seems like a shame to waste it."

"You're too tired."

"Not for a quickie."

"I don't do quickies."

"I don't care." I crawled over him with ardent determination, gasping at little at the flexing power of his body beneath mine.

A chuckle sifted through the darkness, and Gage moved suddenly, turning to pin me beneath him.

"Be still." he whispered, "and Til take care of you."

I obeyed, shivering as he eased the hem of the T-shirt upward, peeling it back over my br**sts. The tender heat of his mouth covered a taut nipple. I lifted up to him with a pleading sound.

His lips crossed my chest in a sojourn of half-open kisses, while he crouched over me like a cat. He nibbled on the wing of my collarbone, finding the shallow depressions where my pulse stung, soothing it with his tongue. Lower, where the banded muscles of my midriff quivered at his touch, lower where every lazy exploring kiss turned to fire and I twisted to escape the indecent pleasure, and he held me there, still and tight, while sensation rushed and shattered all through me.