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her to

moan against him. "Perpetually quivering." He withdrew to thrust deep within her

again. "Striving…"

She gasped. "Tyber, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know." He gave up all pretense of the physics lesson, clutching her

tightly to him. His hot mouth fastened on hers. He plundered her sweet mouth,

mirroring his erotic movements below.

Yes, he was expanding with the heat.

Sometimes demonstration was the finer art of teaching.

Chapter Thirteen

« ^ »

Zanita gazed out of the upstairs bedroom window, trying to focus on the two

figures walking slowly across the far acreage of Tyber's land, near where it

bordered the woods.

Even from this distance, she could discern Tyber's tall form, his distinctive

stride: one part smooth, hip-rolling gait, three parts conquering presence. The

shorter man gesturing expansively at his side would be LaLeche.

After lunch, Tyber had decided to take LaLeche on a personally escorted,

carefully edited tour of his property. He wanted to see if LaLeche would be

relaxed enough to inadvertently drop his guard in some way.

When he had approached Zanita with the idea, she shrugged her shoulders,

thinking, what could it hurt? So far, to her way of thinking, the

self-proclaimed psychic had been annoyingly in "character" and as far as she

could tell, had revealed nothing to either of them of any import.

Zanita had sensed that Tyber hadn't felt completely comfortable opening his

entire home to LaLeche. Right from the beginning she knew that Tyber was a very

private man—his personal life was just that. She had a strong feeling that

invitations to his walled domain were carefully given.

So what happens to the poor man once he hooks up with her?

He had an invasion force in his house, his sanctuary. It had to go against his

grain, yet he was being the most gracious of hosts. A nagging question surfaced.

Is Tyber doing all this just for me?

Zanita knew she could gloss over the implications of such a gesture by telling

herself that he was just as involved as she was in the investigation. She could

even try to make herself believe he hadn't minded his life being turned upside

down this weekend, but she would be lying to herself.

The simple truth was, Tyber was doing this for her sake alone.

The flowers. The gracious, sumptuous meals. The dress slacks. Auntie.

It was all for her.

Was the Captain proclaiming himself?

She bit her lip. If so, what should she do? How should she handle this? Somehow

the word handle and Tyber didn't go together in the same sentence.

While she watched, a gust of wind lifted a long strand of Tyber's gold-streaked

chestnut hair. Zanita sighed. He really was the most stunning man. She leaned

her elbows on the windowsill, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, her

thoughts brooding on her partner cum lover.

In her past, the only real relationship she had had was with Steve. The

experimental disaster with Rick she dismissed as a momentary insanity.

The truth was, she had never experienced anything like what she had with Tyber.

Aside from his wonderful kookiness and heady individuality, when Tyber made

love, he put his whole self into the act. His entire being became present tense.

Reactive. Proactive. He was there.

Zanita dropped her forehead against the windowpane, rubbing her heated skin

against the cool glass. She had warned him about this, repeatedly. Told him

straight out she was not getting involved in any relationships. Had he paid any

attention to her?

No.

He had gone about his merry way—buying her little gifts, taking her out for

dinners, watching over her like a mother hen when she was sick, and physically

loving her to the point of exhaustion.

The pirate.

He had laid siege to her! Not with the traditional tools of his craft—no, not

with cannon and cutlass, but with honeyed lips and heated caresses. With the

scorching press of his body. With the masterful command of her pliant response

to his overwhelming sensuality.

She had been broadsided.

Zanita winced and took a deep breath, valiantly trying to salvage the wreck. She

was still afloat. The grappling hooks had been thrown, but she wasn't boarded

yet.

Her eyes narrowed while she observed him through the window.

The two men had stopped walking and were facing each other, deep in

conversation. Tyber's long legs were spread in a familiar stance, his hands

planted firmly on his hips. Convince me, the arrogant pose said. She had seen

this invincible stance before. Many times. The overbearing rogue!

Well, she would convince him! Later, when she could be sure they wouldn't be

interrupted. This time she was going to pierce through his vigorous hide to

impress upon him exactly what was what.

No more lavish displays of affection.

No more just one more time, baby heatedly whispered in the middle of the night

into her ear.

No more!

They were working together for a common cause. Co-workers and… friends. It was

time Tyber was reminded of just where they stood.

Zanita swallowed the lump of agitation and something else which didn't bear

examining but which had suddenly lodged in her throat. Her shoulders squared,

resolutely quelling the irksome feeling. She recognized this feeling as one

which could get her into deep trouble. Had gotten her into deep trouble in the

past.

Tyber was an adult. He would see reason, would listen to her when she told him

he needed an attitude adjustment.

If Zanita had her druthers, remodeling Tyberius Augustus Evans was not a task

she would have voluntarily taken on, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

After all, it was up to her to get them back on track. Left to his own devices,

Tyber would lead them down a very dangerous road.

She had no intention of being derailed from her course of self-preservation.

A realignment was definitely in order.

"Tyber, you have created an oasis of tranquility in this jungle of stress called

modern life. No wonder you choose to spend your working day right here in the

peaceful beauty of your gracious estate."

Tyber listened to LaLeche, dark lashes veiling light blue eyes clouded by

disgust. He'd seen Rocky Mountain oysters with less bull. He inclined his head

slightly, as if thanking and agreeing with LaLeche at the same time.

"You know, I believe most people, given a choice, would prefer just such an

environment in their daily lives."

Tyber wondered where LaLeche was leading with this. "Oh, I don't know, Xavier,

different strokes