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matter what.

Then she gave up thinking at all, because his movements became more rapid, more rhythmic, more insistent than ever before. Again and again he drove himself inside her, deeper and deeper, faster and faster, harder and harder and harder still. Dorsey bucked her hips upward to meet every swift thrust, wrapped her legs and arms tightly around him, until their damp, heated bodies seemed to fuse into one. And just when she thought they had accomplished that very thing, just when she was certain the two of them had united to become one, Adam's thrusting ceased, and his entire body went rigid atop hers.

Had it not been for the man-made barrier he'd donned to protect her, he would have emptied himself inside her then, would have mingled his physical essence with her own. Something in Dorsey grieved for that loss, even with her certainty that he had done the right thing. The joining of their spiritual and emotional essences had been more than complete, she told herself. And that was what was truly important.

After one final thrust, Adam withdrew from her, then deftly maneuvered their bodies so that he was flat on his back with Dorsey lying atop him. "Next time, Mack," he gasped against her hair, "we do this in a bed. Agreed?"

Somehow, she found the strength to nod. "Agreed."

After the passage of approximately two seconds, he added, "Okay, I'm ready for next time. How about you?"

Chapter 10

« ^ »

E die still had a full block to cover before reaching her car when she finally accepted the fact that she was being followed. She had felt someone's gaze trailing her almost since she'd stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Adam Darien's building five minutes ago, but she'd brushed the sensation off, had tried to convince herself that she was imagining things. She was tired, it had been a long night, and no woman in her right mind savored a solitary walk in the darkness.

Edie had told herself she was just creating monsters where there were none. And heaven knew she could spot a monster from this distance. And she was certainly no stranger to dark urban streets.

In spite of the quick pep talk, however, she'd been fighting off a major wiggins ever since leaving Adam's place. She'd even ducked into a coffee shop and ordered a café au lait to go, hoping that whoever belonged to the gaze following her would continue on his merry way and find someone else to creep out. Within seconds of leaving the coffee shop, however, that eerie sensation of being watched had washed over her again, and she'd heard the sound of not so distant footsteps echoing her own.

She hadn't planned on leaving Adam Darien's place by herself, had figured she'd help Dorsey finish cleaning up, and then the two of them could walk out together. But Dorsey had insisted she could close things down by herself and had encouraged Edie quite adamantly to go on home. Had Edie explained the situation and said she didn't want to walk so great a distance by herself, Dorsey—and probably Adam Darien, too, for that matter—would have no doubt come to her aid.

But with one look at Dorsey and another at Adam, Edie had been reluctant to say another word. The tension in that room had been thick enough to hack with a meat cleaver. No way did she want to get caught in the downswing of whatever was coming next.

She never would have guessed anything was going on with those two. Not only because they didn't seem to have anything in common, but because Edie had always figured Dorsey was way too smart to get caught up in something like that.

Man, you never could tell with some people.

Still, it was none of Edie's business. Dorsey and Adam were adults, and they both knew what was what in this world. Besides, Edie had infinitely more pressing matters to attend to right now. Not the least of which was the source of the footsteps that were gradually beginning to catch up on her.

This part of Chicago , during the day, would be bustling with people, but at nearly one A.M. , it was pretty much deserted. Well lit, certainly, something for which Edie was grateful, but deserted. Still, there were a number of restaurants serving a few final customers, and she'd seen a lone police cruiser pass by shortly after leaving Adam's building. If she screamed horribly at the top of her lungs, she was sure someone would come running. Probably, anyway. Nevertheless, she wished she hadn't had to park so far away.

Why couldn't life be like TV? she wondered, not for the first time. On TV, people always got a parking spot right by the door. Of course, on TV, people found true love and profound happiness, too. Most of them had dream jobs and chic apartments and fabulous clothes and adoring families. TV was a fantasy, she reminded herself. Nobody in reality ever got what they wanted. Certainly not true love or adoring families. And not parking spots by the door, either.

Experimentally, she stopped walking, ostensibly to study a menu in the window of one of the restaurants she was passing. The footsteps shadowing hers stopped, too, not surprisingly. This was ridiculous, Edie thought. There was no way she was going to lead this person right to her car and invite him to commit whatever heinous acts he was intent on committing. And besides, she was feeling a little hungry.

The café she entered was charming, a little slice of the Mediterranean brought to the Midwest . Crisp, white linen tablecloths covered the crowded tables, and frescoes of olive groves and Greek villages splashed the walls. She smiled when she heard the voice of Pavarotti serenading her with a mellow, operatic rendition of La Vie en Rose.

The last thing she needed was to stay up late tonight, she thought. She'd already gone nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, and

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