His kiss burned through Marjorie like fire raging through dry brush. When he reluctantly lifted his head from hers, she swayed, and his hands on her shoulders were all that kept her from tumbling to the floor.

“I think you’re right,” she admitted. “I need something to eat…quick.”

Sam’s eyes burned into hers, and his strong, steady voice shook slightly. “I was just thinking that we should forget about dinner and continue with the kissing.”

She tilted her head up to look into his eyes, resisting the urge to reach out and cling to him. “You were?”

“But you’re right.”

“I am?” At the moment she didn’t think so, as she watched him turn back to the stove. After a while she stood on shaky feet, unfastened her jacket and removed it. By the time she’d finished loosening the top buttons of her shirt, Sam had their meal ready.

He handed her a plate and pulled another stool up beside hers. The tantalizing scent of hot oil and ginger wafted toward her, and her stomach reacted with a loud growl. She placed her hand over her abdomen and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“When was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“Noon.” Soup. She’d been too upset to down anything else, so now she was famished.

Sam used chopsticks, holding the plate with one hand while dexterously using the wooden sticks with the other. She tried the same thing and nearly dumped her dinner on her lap.

“You’d better use a fork,” he advised, humor lurking in his eyes.

She nodded meekly. Once she had a fork in her hand, she discovered the food was both hot and spicy. Closing her eyes, she savored each mouthful as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of hours.

“Oh Sam, this is really good.”

“I do my best,” he answered, but his interest wasn’t in the dinner. Marjorie, the woman who had tormented his dreams for weeks, was sitting next to him. Part angel, part temptress. Complicated, vital, and ripe, an opulent beauty. He’d dreamed of having her with him in his home, envisioned carrying her into his room and laying her across his king-size bed. He wanted to love her, ease the ache of loneliness he read in her eyes, and make up to her for the childhood she’d lost.

—

Following the meal, Sam made a fresh pot of coffee. Marjorie, feeling sober and steady on her feet after the delicious dinner, poured them each a cup and carried them into the living room. They sat close to each other, and she tucked her feet up under her and placed her head on his sturdy shoulder.

“You’re not going to drift off on me, are you?” he asked gently. His hand curved around her nape, and his fingers stroked the slope of her neck and shoulder.