Private Pleasures

Chapter Nine

HE LOVED HER.

Mariah made good on her promise to eliminate any lingering doubts from his mind. For the next two days Grey had denied the inevitable. Then he'd come to terms with the fact that the emotions he felt for Mariah were exactly what she'd labeled them. Love. What else could explain the heart-pounding thrill when he was with her, the frenzy of emotions when she looked at him in that soft way of hers or the huge ache of missing her when they were apart for the shortest amount of time?

No other woman had ever evoked such a myriad of emotions from him, but then he'd never remained with one woman long enough to allow anything stronger than a physical attraction to develop. But Mariah… Well, from the very first he'd seen something different in her, a special, caring quality that had drawn and captivated him. Since her, he'd found no other woman could compare in strength, intelligence, beauty and stubbornness.

Smiling, Grey turned his Jeep Cherokee onto the narrow street that wound its way up to the cabin. He'd slipped out almost two hours earlier to get dinner while Mariah had been napping-a well-earned rest after an afternoon of the most emotionally and physically satisfying lovemaking he'd ever experienced. He'd intended to pick up a quick bite at a deli in the village and return before she woke, but as he'd passed that jewelry store they'd seen last weekend, he'd stopped and made an impulsive purchase certain to convey the feelings in his heart.

Lave. As he reflected on the course of his relationship with Mariah, he realized that he'd loved her almost from the beginning. His heart had known, but his mind had refused to acknowledge all the obvious signs. As a direct result of Mariah's determination to make him face past resentments and see his emotions for what they were, his heart and mind were finally in harmony.

And the knowledge scared the hell out of him.

Braking to a stop in front of the cabin, he killed the engine and stared at the darkened structure. Despite the fact that he admitted to loving Mariah, he couldn't help but wonder how long this wonderful feeling would last. Another week? Another month? A year or two? How long would it be before Mariah realized he truly wasn't the marriageable type? That he wasn't the kind of man to love and nurture children? His edges were too rough, his soul too jaded to think he was equipped to handle a child's needs.

He had no ready answers for any of the questions he'd asked himself. All he knew was that for now, he wanted to savor and enjoy the precious commodity he'd found in Mariah. He wanted to share time with her, love her, and when it ended, part as friends and have no regrets. It was as much as he was willing to give, for her sake as much as his own. Certainly after their week together and everything they'd shared, she understood the reasons why he couldn't give her marriage and a family.

But he was willing to offer her the strongest commitment he knew, one that came straight from his heart and soul. After the closeness they'd established, and the love he was willing to declare, he was confident she would say yes this time to his proposal.

Grabbing their dinner, he slid from the vehicle and headed up the walkway. It was dark inside the cabin, but he smiled when he heard the shower running. He debated on joining Mariah, but decided they'd never eat if he offered to scrub her back. Considering they hadn't had a meal since breakfast, they needed nourishment.

In the kitchen, he unpacked their dinner, a small feast of large peeled shrimp, cocktail sauce, fresh croissants and pasta salad. He set one place setting, then lit the votive candle he'd found in the cupboard and placed it in the center of the table. Slipping his surprise beneath a paper napkin just to the side of the one plate, he turned off the light, settled in the high-back wooden chair and waited…

Less than ten minutes later, he heard Mariah come out of the bathroom and call out tentatively. "Grey?"

"In the kitchen," he said, and drew a deep breath that caught in his throat when she glided through the door.

Dressed in scarlet red silk and lace that revealed more than it covered, and bathed in candlelight, Mariah was a vision of temptation. Floral, see-through lace shaped her breasts and swept in a diagonal slash to her left hip. Silky material draped to her ankles in soft cascading folds, but it was the thigh-high slit that captured his attention and made him wonder if she was wearing any panties.

She wasn't supposed to have found the negligee he'd purchased on a whim, but he was glad as hell she had. Swallowing hard, he managed a strangled, "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," she said, her voice husky. She moved toward him, hips swaying, the creamy expanse of thigh peeking and retreating enticingly through that wicked slit.

Blood pooled low in his lap and his body tightened in a subtle, but unmistakable way. She looked sexy, feminine and more provocative than a dream. The hair piled on top of her head in a loose knot made his fingers itch to pull out the pins and run his fingers through the silky strands.

"I was putting away our clothes and came across this gown," she said, stopping just beyond his reach. She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue and ran a finger lightly down the sheer, scalloped lace outlining her full breasts that nearly spilled from the bodice. "Unless you have a fetish I don't know about, I'm assuming you bought it for me?"

"Yes." He watched her breasts swell from her touch, and her nipples thrust against the lace. His mouth watered. "You fill it out much better than I ever could."

She smiled, tracing that same wicked finger along the strip of lace slashing to her hip. "Did you buy it when you bought me that peach chemise?"

A loaded question. He remembered that she'd expected a nightgown like this one from him that first night, and although he'd given her the conservative chemise, his thoughts had been on the red, racy number. "Guilty as charged."

She tsk-tsked him, and touching the thigh exposed by the slit, she trailed her fingers upward. His anxious gaze followed. "You're a bad boy, Grey Nichols."

"Very bad," he agreed. And feeling more naughty with each passing second. The things he wanted to do to her went beyond illicit and carnal…and she seemed more than willing.

She attempted to look thoughtful, but came across as a sultry vixen instead. "I'll have to think of a fitting punishment."

His heart leapt in anticipation, that wild, tempestuous feeling called love swirling within him. "Trust me, sweetheart, just looking at you in that scrap of nothing is pure torment."

"Good," she purred. "Then all you get to do is look."

His brows rose. She had to be kidding.

She wasn't. Closing the distance between them, she draped herself across his lap. He groaned as her soft fanny nestled against his straining erection, and he automatically caressed his fingers up that tempting, silken thigh.

"No touching," she said, promptly removing his wandering hand, "until I tell you you can."

He gave her a pained look, certain he would never survive her hands-off policy.

She looked over the feast displayed on the table. Dipping a shrimp in cocktail sauce, she lifted it to his lips. "How repentant are you?"

"Very." He took the shrimp into his mouth, then caught her wrist when she would have gone back for another, intent on showing her just how contrite he was. His tongue curled around each finger and lapped the sensitive skin in between, licking away any traces of the sauce. And he took his time doing so, until her eyes grew dark and smoky with arousal, and her breathing became ragged.

He smiled, and nibbled the tip of her finger. "I'm suffering like I've never suffered before."

"Umm." She wiggled on his lap, her lashes falling to a drowsy, sensual half-mast at the proof of his suffering. "I believe you, and because you're so obviously in anguish over your naughty behavior, I'll grant you one touch."

Taking his hand, she settled it on her knee, then guided his flattened palm along the opening in the slit. Her legs parted and her body strained toward the fingers inching along, luxuriating in the pleasure of her soft, bare skin and…no panties. His fingers slid intimately, deeply.

They groaned and shuddered at the same moment-she in pleasure, he in excitement.

"You're very good, Grey," she said huskily.

The double entendre wasn't lost on him. "Let me show you how good," he murmured.

Lifting his hand, he gently cupped her cheek in his palm then slowly stroked down her throat and over her shoulder. He held her sexy-soft gaze as he slipped his fingers beneath the wispy strap holding up the bodice of her gown and pushed it down her arm. One lacy cup fell away from the full weight of her breast, and he covered the mound with his palm, plumping the firm flesh, manipulating the nipple into a tight bead he ached to flick with his tongue, draw deeply into his mouth…

"So good." She sighed. Her head rolled back and she arched into his hand, groaning when he rolled her nipple between his fingers. "So bad…"

He chuckled, the sound as strained as the fly on his shorts. "Am I forgiven?"

Her mouth curled into a shameless grin. "I haven't decided yet."

Oh, man, he loved this woman and knew in his heart he'd never tire of her sass, her fire. Knowing there would never be a more perfect opportunity than this moment to express his feelings, he removed his hand from her breast and lifted the strap back to her shoulder, covering her. She gave him a look full of confusion and unquenched desire, while he withdrew the small, square velvet box he'd hidden beneath the napkin.

Grasping her hand, he pressed it into her palm. "Maybe this will help you decide."

She glanced expectantly from the gift, to him. "What's this for?"

"You."

"Why?" Her tone was as skeptical as her expression. "It's not my birthday."

He settled his arms around her, trying to calm the sudden racing of his heart. Damn, but he was nervous. "Does it need to be your birthday for me to give you something to show you how much…" He cleared his tight throat and tried again. "How much I love you?" The words, spoken for the first time, sounded rusty to his own ears.

She stared in disbelief. "What did you say?"

She was going to make him say it again. He supposed he ought to get used to it. "I said…I love you."

Once her obvious shock wore off, tears of happiness filled her eyes. "Oh, Grey, I knew you did."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "You mean I'm going through all this fanfare for nothing?"

"Oh, no," she assured him with a watery smile. She sniffled and brushed at a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. "This is one of the happiest days of my life."

His chest swelled with those strange, tender emotions. She was so easy to please, he thought. And making her happy brought him great satisfaction, like none he'd ever experienced. "Then stop crying and open the box."

Tentatively, she did, and gasped when she saw the ring-a flat band encrusted with rubies and an elegant, one-carat marquis diamond set in the center.

He gently touched her chin, closing the mouth that had dropped open. "I guess the ring speaks for itself, huh?"

"It's absolutely beautiful," she whispered.

Yeah, he thought so, too. The ring was simple in design and far less extravagant than the one they'd seen displayed in the jewelry store window, but the bright rubies had reminded him of Mariah's fire and spirit.

After their argument last weekend, he'd purposely steered clear of the bridal sets at the jewelry store. He'd wanted something personal and intimate, not necessarily a ring, but the clerk had assured him that a ring such as this one would undoubtedly express his feelings for his girlfriend in a way no bracelet or necklace could. Against his better judgment, he'd given in and purchased the ruby-and-diamond band.

Considering the elation etched on Mariah's face, he gave the clerk credit for knowing her business and the secret desires of women, too.

Taking the band from its nest of crushed black velvet, he took Mariah's left hand and slipped it on her ring finger, marking her as his. The spark of possessiveness he felt at that moment surprised him, but he wasn't about to analyze it. "You make me happy, Mariah. Happier than I've ever been."

She laughed joyfully and hugged him tight, a gesture he returned and savored. Finally she loosened her hold, letting her fingers sift through his hair.

Their gazes locked. "You truly love me?" she asked in awe.

"Didn't you tell me I did that night you seduced me?" he teased.

She gave the hair at the back of his head an affectionate tug. "Yes, you big oaf, but do you really believe it?"

Sensing her need for confirmation, he grew serious. "Yeah, I believe it. Being in love scares the hell out of me, but I'm hoping I'll get used to the feeling."

Her mouth curled into a sultry smile laced with triumph. "You will," she murmured. Sliding a hand around to cup his jaw, she urged his mouth up to hers. "I'll make sure of it."

Her lips were warm and soft upon first contact, her mouth sweet and generous when it opened to meet the glide of his tongue. The kiss was slow and lazy, but before long the tenor changed, growing more hungry and urgent as hands began to wander and the fragile emotions surrounding them mingled with desire.

The kiss went on and on, priming them both for a more intimate act of love. Mouths still fused, she twisted and turned in his lap, and he helped her, guiding her with his hands until she faced him and her legs straddled his hips. By then, they were both breathing hard, and Grey was about to split the zipper on his shorts.

They both knew what was going to happen, but that only heightened their excitement. Hastily he shoved the straps of her negligee down her arms until the bodice bunched around her waist, leaving her gloriously bare for his pleasure. As he watched, her breasts swelled and grew taut. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue over a budding nipple, then suckled her breast until she cried out, her fingers gripping his shoulders.

Finally he pulled back, letting his hands finish where his mouth had left off. "So, I guess I oughta show you just how much I love you, huh?" he teased, giving her the same sweet dose of medicine she'd given him the night they'd gone to dinner. The night he realized he was in love.

She arched shamelessly into the palms cupping her breasts. "Yeah, maybe you should," she said as she went to work tugging his shirt from the waistband of his shorts.

He was certain she could feel the wild beating of his heart against his chest. A heart brimming with so much feeling and emotion it was near to bursting. "Just in case you might have some doubts," he added, toeing off his shoes.

Her eyes sparkled with humor and love. "Yeah, just in case," she agreed.

Once he'd pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, he reached between them, unbuckled his belt and released his zipper. Leaning back in his chair while she shifted her weight, he pushed both his shorts and briefs down his thighs and kicked off the restraining garments.

There was so much more he wanted to do to her, but the need to be inside her obliterated everything else. Sliding his hands inside that strategic slit in the gown, he gripped the backs of her thighs and pulled her forward the same time he thrust his hips upward. The smooth tip of his erection glided through slick folds of flesh and found its home deep, deep within her body. She arched into him with a sharp, breathless cry. Groaning roughly, he buried his face in the fragrant curve of her neck and grazed his teeth along her throat.

He let her set the rhythm of their mating, enthralled by the wanton way she took her pleasure from him. His lips and tongue paid homage to her breasts, while his hands stroked her belly, her quivering thighs and eventually where they joined. His thumb circled and rubbed, and he whispered words of encouragement, and then more explicit demands her body had no defense against.

She came apart for him on a convulsive shudder and a whimper that echoed in his soul. Capturing her mouth with his, he moaned as his own climax ripped through him, hotter than fire and sweeter than the promise of heaven.

Love, he decided, made all the difference in the world.

Mariah wrapped her arms around his neck and sank drowsily against him, heartbeat to heartbeat. Their bodies were damp, their breathing labored. After a few minutes of rest she whispered against his throat, "Tell me again, Grey."

Shutting his eyes, he swept his hand down her back, savoring the flood of feelings only she evoked in him. "Oh, God, Mariah. I do love you."

He felt her smile against his shoulder. "I knew you did."

"Woman, you're gonna kill me," Grey muttered as he lay on top of Mariah, still inside her, in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He felt totally satiated and downright exhausted after she'd taken advantage of his body. Again.

He'd carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom after the first time they'd made love, and she hadn't given him much time to recuperate before she'd shimmied out of that scrap of nothing and pulled him to her with a renewed vigor he couldn't help but respond to.

"At least you'll die a happy man," she said, skimming her palms down his muscled back to his buttocks.

Deep laughter rumbled in his chest. "Yeah, what a way to go." He groaned in her ear as she tensed inner muscles around him, then he lifted his head to look at her. "Lord, where did you learn to do that?"

"Jade loaned me some interesting books of hers." A sly smile curved her well-kissed mouth. The soft glow from the bedside lamp emphasized the mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with the predictable stuff."

Not in a million years, he thought. Separating their bodies, he lay back on the bed and gathered her close to his side, reveling in the simple pleasure of just holding her. "With you, making love has never been, and never will be, predictable."

Draping herself along his upper body, she stacked her hands on his chest and propped her chin on top. "Yeah, well, you've pulled a few unpredictable stunts of your own lately."

"Like?"

"All those flowers and sexy lingerie you sent me when we first broke up."

Plucking the pins from the knot of hair on her head, he plowed all ten fingers through the mass of silk. "Someone told me that women like to be romanced."

She rolled her eyes, then groaned when he stroked and massaged the warm nape of her neck. "Mark, no doubt, womanizer that he is."

He grinned wolfishly. "Yeah, but I have to admit his idea worked."

Closing her eyes, she relaxed as his hands moved to rub the muscles along her shoulders and the slope of her back. "Umm, it was kinda nice being spoiled like that," she admitted, a dreamy quality to her voice. "And what about kidnapping me?"

"Sheer desperation. And that worked, too."

"Only because I felt sorry for you."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her sigh fluttered the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. She blinked her lashes open. "If I really wanted to find a way home I would have. I wanted to be with you, and I'm soo glad I came."

"Yeah, me, too." His finger traced the notches in her spine, and she arched against him like a sleek cat.

"I have to say, though, that this is the most unpredictable stunt you've pulled so far."

"What stunt is that?" he murmured suggestively. "The one in the chair, or the one at the foot of the bed when I pulled your legs around my-"

She gave him a playful pinch in the side, and he yelped. "I'm talking about the ring, Grey."

"Oh, the ring." Smiling, he smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, keeping his gaze on hers. "I guess that's the kind of irrational thing you do when you're in love. Of course, I can only assume my spontaneous behavior is related to love since I've never been in love before you."

"I'm glad I'm your first," she said in a seductive tone, and lightly rolled his nipple between her fingers.

"Yeah, me, too." He sucked in a breath as her fingers fluttered along his rib cage. "It's sorta like being a virgin all over again."

She arched a blond brow and drew sensual circles around his navel, then explored lower. "Now there's a fantasy I'd be happy to fulfill for you. Older, more experienced woman tutoring younger virgin boy." Her fingers wrapped around his semierect shaft, which thickened with each of her slow, measured strokes.

He moaned at the images her words projected in his mind, and grasped her hand to stop the sweet torture. "Give me ten more minutes for my poor body to recuperate from our first two stunts, and then I'll be happy to let you show me just how experienced you are."

Mariah pressed a kiss on his chest then snuggled into his side. They had the rest of their lives to indulge in fantasies. For now, she was content to bask in the triumph of Grey's declaration of love and the ring he'd put on her finger.

Lifting her left hand, she admired the band of sparkling rubies and diamonds, and the marquis set in the center of the exquisite, original design. It wasn't a traditional wedding ring by today's standards, but then Grey wasn't the traditional sort.

A grin tipped her mouth, and a giddy feeling tickled her belly. Her parents were going to be thrilled about her engagement to Grey. No doubt her mother would be anxious to help her plan the wedding, and her father wouldn't spare any expense on the grand event to finally see one of his daughters married.

She glanced up at Grey. His eyes were closed, but the fingers brushing along the curve of her waist told her he was awake. She supposed she ought to see if he had a preference for a particular date to exchange vows before they told her parents the good news.

"So, when do you want to get married, Grey?" she asked, unable to contain the excitement working its way to the surface. "I've always wanted a winter wedding, but I wouldn't mind getting married in the spring. Which do you prefer?"

The sudden tension in his body was nearly tangible. The fingers stroking her skin stilled, and his eyes slowly opened and met hers, dark and remote.

"Mariah, I never said anything about marriage." His voice was deceptively calm, though the muscle ticking in his jaw belied his tension.

Dread churned in the pit of her stomach, and she tamped down the knot working its way up her throat. This had to be an awful nightmare, but the pricking heat along her nerves confirmed she was wide-awake. Had she somehow misunderstood Grey's intentions? "But you said you loved me," she whispered, hearing the confusion in her own voice.

His heart thundered violently beneath the palm she rested on his chest. "I do love you," he said gruffly.

She shook her head, not comprehending how he could love her, offer her a ring, but stop short of fulfilling that commitment. "And the ring?"

He pulled his arm from around her, withdrawing physically as well as emotionally, and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her. "It's not a bridal set," he pointed out tightly. "I made sure of that."

She shivered, and grabbed for the quilt. She felt cold. The kind of chill that settled deep and clung to your bones. "A 'bridal set' is anything you deem it to be," she said, swallowing back burning tears. "I'd proudly wear a ring from a Cracker Jack box to be your wife, Grey. If this ring you gave me isn't meant to be a wedding ring, then what would you call it?"

He wouldn't look at her. Silence filled the room, and the longer it stretched between them, the angrier Mariah became. She wanted to hit him, hard. Wanted to rail at him for making her believe that they could have a secure future together. Their relationship had seemed so hopeful after their week together. She'd been hopeful.

And so very wrong.

Her nerves snapped. "Dammit, Grey, answer me. You owe me at least that much."

His head whirled around and he glared at her, but there was pain in his gaze, too. And fear. "Why are you making this more complicated than it has to be?"

She lifted her chin, unwilling to back down on what she believed in. Marriage. A forever kind of commitment. Them. "Answer me. Why did you give me this ring?"

"It's the ultimate expression of how I feel about you." He hesitated. When she didn't respond, just waited for more of an answer, he took a deep breath and continued. "I love you. Right now, at this moment, I can't imagine anyone else in my life-"

"But that's subject to change?" she interrupted bitterly.

"Yes, I mean, no!" He jumped up and rounded the bed with a fierce curse. Grabbing the first thing he found, his sweatpants, he yanked them on. "Dammit, Mariah, that's not what I said. Quit putting words in my mouth," he said heatedly. "You know how I feel about marriage, and that hasn't changed. I doubt it ever will."

A strangled sound escaped her. Oh, God. Her heart was breaking, and she feared it would never mend. A horrifying sense of deja vu wrapped around her. They'd had a similar conversation a few months ago when he'd asked her to live with him.

Despite all her efforts the past week, nothing had changed. Grey hadn't changed.

Get up and walk out, her mind urged, but her heart demanded more answers. Numbly, she slipped from the bed and started putting on the clothes she'd left out to wear home tomorrow. "What makes you think my feelings about marriage have changed?"

A deep frown creased his brows. "I thought we'd come to an understanding about our relationship."

Her brittle laughter masked the devastation tearing her apart inside. Apparently they'd come to vastly different conclusions about where their relationship was heading and where it would end. "Funny, I thought you knew I wouldn't settle for less than marriage." She'd believed they were working toward a common goal-to spend the rest of their lives together.

"And after everything I shared with you, about my parents, my mother and my childhood, I thought you understood my views on marriage." He dragged his fingers roughly through his hair. "I never led you to believe differently."

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. He was absolutely right. The only comment she could use to refute his point was that she'd hoped she could show him how good a relationship could be between a husband and wife, and change his mind. Apparently he didn't care how wonderful a marriage could be.

She buttoned the front of her light cotton dress, realizing in that moment that they'd both secretly hoped to sway the other to their way of thinking. And when it came right down to it, neither of them was willing to surrender their beliefs for the other.

"I guess I'd hoped you'd see how special what we have is," she said, her voice quiet.

"I do see how special what we have is," he said impatiently.

"But it's not special enough for you to marry me."

His jaw clenched hard. "I never said that."

"Not in so many words, but you might as well have, because that's what this discussion comes down to." She pulled in a big breath of air, needing the oxygen to go on. "You want me to wear your ring, but you don't want any of the responsibilities or the ultimate commitment that goes with it."

He turned away, walking to the window that faced the lake, which shimmered with the reflection of the rising moon. "I knew buying you that ring wasn't a good idea," he muttered in disgust.

"Then why did you?" she asked boldly.

"I told you why." He glanced over his shoulder, pinning her with his gaze. "I love you, Mariah."

Why isn't that enough? The unspoken question hung between them. Because I want a husband who will cherish me, and I want children to love. I want one special man to spend the rest of my life with, not the insecurity of wondering when the magic was going to end-and be left: with nothing more than the ashes of memories. I want to make memories, and pass them on to our family.

But she didn't think Grey would understand her dreams. "So, essentially, you want me to live with you, sleep in your bed, wash your underwear and wear a ring that tells any man who looks at my ring finger that I'm taken, but at any given moment you could decide that you're no longer in love and that living with a woman cramps your style?"

Irritation flashed in his gaze. "You make it sound like some kind of impersonal arrangement."

"It might as well be." She twisted the ring off her finger, feeling like she was physically severing herself from him, and set it on the nightstand next to his wallet. "This ring means nothing."

He looked from the ruby-and-diamond band to her, trying his best to conceal his hurt expression, and failing. "It means everything to me."

Unfortunately, their "everythings" differed dramatically. "Not to me. Not without marriage."

"I have no intention of getting married. Ever," he said succinctly, and not without a little hostility. "Why can't we just enjoy what we have for as long as it lasts?"

"Because I want it to last forever."

He sliced a hand impatiently through the air. "A piece of paper declaring us husband and wife hardly guarantees happily ever after."

"No, it doesn't. It's up to you and I to work together to make our life happy." She came around the bed toward him. Ludicrous as it seemed, she wanted to be near him for what precious moments were left of their unraveling relationship. "There are no guarantees in life, Grey. Maybe we'll divorce or, God forbid, maybe one of us will die tomorrow."

"And there's no guarantee that love will last," he argued.

"You're absolutely right." She stood in front of him, resisting the impulse to reach out and touch his tense body. "I know you've seen the worst of marriages and relationships, but I've seen some of the best. You can't let the horrible way your father treated you and your mother's obsession about being loved influence your life and the chance to be happy with one special woman."

He said nothing, just stared at her, his eyes darkening with a despair that made her heart ache.

"People stay in love, Grey, as long as the couple continually works at it," she went on, a desperate part of her hoping she still had a chance in heaven of influencing him. "Love is fragile. For it to grow, it has to be nurtured and never taken for granted. People grow apart and divorce because they stop caring about each other, their family and the commitment they've made."

A mocking smile curled the corner of his mouth. "What makes you so sure that won't happen to us?"

His cynicism cut deeply. "I'm not sure, but as long as we communicate and respect one another, I think we could be really good together. You're my best friend, and I'd do whatever I could to make you happy."

"And I want to make you happy. I just don't think we need marriage for that." His voice rose in frustration. "Why complicate things?"

"Because I don't want to have children out of wedlock." The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could rescind them. But they were the truth, and it was an issue that needed to be discussed.

He blanched. "I never said anything about children."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Except that you don't want them."

His mouth thinned into a grim line. "At least I'm honest about it. Kids need a father who can be there for them emotionally, who can raise them with a gentle but firm touch. I can't do that, Mariah. I don't know how to do that. All I know is the anger and cruelty I learned at my father's knee. I refuse to subject a child to that kind of ugliness."

He turned around and focused his attention somewhere out the window. Very quietly, very defeatedly, he said, "They'd be better off without me as a father."

A crushing pressure filled her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. "You are so very wrong," she whispered. "They'd be very fortunate to have you as a dad."

He whirled around and scowled. "How the hell would you know?"

"From what you've told me about Aaron Nichols, I know firsthand you're a better man than your father ever was."

His laugh was self-depreciating. "I could be worse. Much worse."

She shook her head, refusing to be baited. "I wouldn't consider marrying a man who wasn't gentle and kind and loving. You have those qualities, Grey. And those qualities are what I love the most about my father."

She watched him struggle with some internal battle-wanting to believe her but allowing that vulnerable little boy in him to cling to the past and all the troubling memories of his childhood: the verbal abuse from his father and his mother's neglect.

Until Grey resolved those fears and insecurities, she knew they had no chance at a future.

He scrubbed his hand along his jaw, misery clouding his features. "So, what this all boils down to is you want all or nothing."

"Yeah, I guess I do. I'm afraid being someone's mistress isn't my style." She drew a deep shuddering breath, and although her heart felt torn and ragged, a strange calm swept over her. "I want to be your wife, Grey, and I want to be the mother of your children, not just the woman you happen to be living with and sleeping with. If you love me the way you say you do, then marriage would be the next logical step in our relationship. Anything else we can work on together, as husband and wife."

He uttered a strangled sound, and his hands fisted at his sides. "Dammit, Mariah… I can't."

She couldn't stop the tears that stung the back of her eyes and spilled forward. "And I can't keep loving you and being with you day after day, not without a promise for a future together."

His own eyes misted, and his throat worked spasmodically. He took a step toward her, then stopped. "Mariah, please don't do this to us."

"I have no choice." Bridging the distance between them, she brushed her lips across his, wanting to forever remember the taste of him. His body shuddered in response, but he showed greater restraint than she and kept his hands to himself.

"I love you, Grey," she said softly, touching his cheek, his jaw, imprinting everything about him into her mind before letting her hand fall away. "I probably always will. Even if you don't realize it, you would have made a wonderful husband and a great father. One of these days you're going to realize exactly what you threw away, but by then it'll be too late. You'll be alone and lonely, wishing you had a wife to keep you company and grandchildren to spoil. Maybe, if you're lucky, one day you'll take a chance and find happiness with another woman."

"I don't want any other woman."

She smiled sadly. "And I don't want any other man, but I want a husband as well as a lover. Someone I know will be there for me when I'm old and gray and a little slow getting around. I want to come home to the same man for fifty years and still feel that surge of excitement I do every time I look at you. I want children to enrich my and my husband's life, and when they're grown, I want a man who will still be my best friend, my lover, my life." A tear trickled down her cheek, but she didn't bother wiping it away. "I wanted that with you, Grey."

His anguish was real, so real she had to fight the urge to tell him to forget everything she'd just said, that she'd take him on any terms he demanded.

A thread of common sense kept her grounded to reality.

She swallowed the huge knot of sorrow lodged in her throat. She knew what she had to do, though she might have just as well carved her heart out of her chest while she was at it. "It's over, Grey, for good this time," she said in a choked voice, hating the words that would forever sever him from her life.

"Mariah, you can't mean this."

His despair ripped at her soul. "I do," she whispered, and turned to finish packing the bags. "The honeymoon is over, Grey, it's time to take me home."