Erin moved into the kitchen and opened the liquor cabinet, but her thoughts didn’t leave Kane. Although he was in the living room, the air was charged with electricity and anticipation. It was difficult to think, to move. Why had she asked him up to her loft, and why had he accepted?

She managed to put together some Irish coffee, and the cups were steaming as she carried them into the living room. Kane was standing at the window, looking into the night as if he could penetrate the darkness. His shirt was moist and clung to his body, and the ripple of his muscles was evident through the fabric.

When she entered the room, he turned to face her. His face was ragged, torn with emotion, and she knew that he was as tense as she. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he whispered, but the besieged look on his face didn’t disappear. “Thanks,” he said with a tight-lipped smile and sampled the hot drink.

“There is something wrong,” she challenged. “I can feel it. It’s something about me, isn’t it?”

“You’re imagining things,” he retorted, and took a long swallow of his drink.

“No…I’m not. It all started yesterday, at the office.”

His gray eyes bored into her, daring her to continue. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think that you do. You were angry that I was at the office—don’t deny it. And all of those ridiculous questions about Mitch. It has something to do with him, doesn’t it?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” he suggested huskily. “What do you know about Mitchell Cameron?”

“Nothing—except that you fired him, and I don’t know why!”

He set his cup down on the table and strode quietly over to where she was standing. His voice was barely audible, but he pinned her with his gaze. “You can’t even hazard a guess?” he coaxed.

“No!”

“Why don’t you try?” His fingers reached upward and found the nape of her neck. He lifted her hair from her shoulders and clasped both of his hands gently around her neck, massaging her shoulders through the light rain-washed fabric of her blouse.

“I have no idea. I only know that the legal department wasn’t profitable…” His gray eyes snapped.

“Is that it? Would you let him go because of one bad year?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you work…”

“Sure you do,” he suggested smoothly, and Erin felt that she had known him all of her life.

“Aren’t you going to finish your drink?” she asked, not able to concentrate on anything other than the warm enticement of his hands. His thumbs traced lazy patterns of seduction along her throat, gently persuading her mind to think of nothing other than his overpowering maleness.

His eyes looked over at the half-full cup of Irish coffee. “Is that my cue to leave?”

Erin braced herself, trying to ignore the dizzying sensations that seemed to build up from within her and explode at his touch. “It’s…it’s getting late.”