“I took money from Marcus once. Not again.”

“Child support payments could be set up very quietly. You could stop working seven days a week.”

Liz took a deep breath and pulled away until she could see his face. “Faith is my child, has been my child only since the moment Marcus handed me a check. I could have had the abortion and gone back to my life as I’d planned it. I chose not to. I chose to have the baby, to raise the baby, to support the baby. She’s never given me anything but pleasure from the moment she was born, and I have no intention of sharing her.”

“One day she’s going to ask you for his name.”

Liz moistened her lips, but nodded. “Then one day I’ll tell her. She’ll have her own choice to make.”

He wouldn’t press her now, but there was no reason he couldn’t have his law clerk begin to investigate child support laws and paternity cases. “Are you going to let me meet her? I know the deal is for me to be out of the house and out of your life when she gets back. I will, but I’d like the chance to meet her.”

“If you’re still in Mexico.”

“One more question.”

The smile came more easily. “One more.”

“There haven’t been any other men, have there?”

The smile faded. “No.”

He felt twin surges of gratitude and guilt. “Then let me show you how it should be.”

“There’s no need—”

Gently, he brushed the hair back from her face. “Yes, there is. For both of us.” He kissed her eyes closed. “I’ve wanted you from the first.” His mouth on hers was as sweet as spring rain and just as gentle. Slowly, he slipped the robe from her shoulders, following the trail with warm lips. “Your skin’s like gold,” he murmured, then traced a finger over her breasts where the tone changed. “And so pale. I want to see all of you.”

“Jonas—”

“All of you,” he repeated, looking into her eyes until the heat kindled again. “I want to make love with all of you.”

She didn’t resist. Never in her life had anyone ever touched her with such reverence, looked at her with such need. When he urged her back, Liz lay on the bed, naked and waiting.

“Lovely,” Jonas murmured. Her body was milk and honey in the moonlight. And her eyes were dark—dark and open and uncertain. “I want you to trust me.” He began a slow journey of exploration at her ankles. “I want to know when I look at you that you’re not afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You have been. Maybe I’ve even wanted you to be. No more.”