“It’s hard. Particularly when you look so fetching in my shirt.”

“I don’t like flirtations,” she said under her breath.

“My dear Mary Ellen, there’s a world of difference between a flirtation and a direct statement of desire. Now, if I were to tell you what lovely eyes you have, how they remind me of the hills in my homeland—that would be flirting. Or if I mentioned that your hair is like the gold in a Botticelli painting, or that your skin is as soft as the clouds that drift over my mountain some evenings—that could be construed as flirting.”

There was an odd, distinctly uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach. She wanted it to stop.

“If you said any of those things I’d think you’d lost your mind.”

“Which is exactly why I opted for the direct approach. I want you in bed. My bed.” Under one of the spreading oaks, he stopped, turning her into his arms before she could so much as sputter. “I want to undress you. Touch you. I want to watch you come alive when I’m inside you.” He leaned down to catch her lower lip between his teeth. “And then I want to do it all over again.” He felt her shudder and turned the nip into a long, searching kiss. “Direct enough?”

Her hands were against his chest, fingers spread. She had no idea how they’d gotten there. Her mouth felt swollen and stung and hungry. “I think …” But, of course, she couldn’t think at all, and that was the problem. Her blood was pounding so hard that she wondered people didn’t come out of their houses to see what the racket was about. “You’re crazy.”

“For wanting you, or for saying it?”

“For … for thinking I’d be interested in a quick tumble with you. I hardly know you.”

He caught her chin with his fingers. “You know me.” He kissed her again. “And I didn’t say anything about quick.”

Before she could speak again, he tensed. “They’re coming out,” he said, without turning around. Over his shoulder she could see the door open and the brunette pushing out a stroller. “Let’s cross the street. You can get a good look as they walk by.”

She’d tensed up again. Sebastian kept an arm around her shoulders, as much in warning as in support. She could hear the man and woman talking to each other. It was the light, happy conversation of two young parents with a healthy baby. Their words were nothing but a blur. Without thinking, she slipped an arm around Sebastian’s waist and held on.