“He never thought I was good enough for you,” Mason said. “I was a poor kid who had to look out for his younger sister, a screwup who had no business being involved with his daughter, ‘the princess.’ The accident only proved him right.”

“It didn’t.”

“In his mind, Bliss.” He took another gulp of his coffee and tossed the dregs into the grass.

“Well, not in mine.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm.” She caught the gleam in his eyes and her pulse jumped.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t regret getting involved with me.”

“Okay,” she teased, smiling. “I won’t.”

One side of his mouth lifted, revealing an off-center slash of white. “You’re a maddening woman, Bliss Cawthorne.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He was suddenly serious. “You know, I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she lied.

“I wish I could believe you.” He leaned back on his elbows and stared at her. “If I could change things—”

“You wouldn’t. You have a beautiful daughter, a successful business . . . What more could you want?”

“I already told you earlier.”

“I want you, Bliss,” he’d said. Not I love you. Not I want to marry you. It was more than she should have expected.

“I don’t know,” she said as the breeze ruffled her hair. She reached forward, spanning the small distance between them, and touched the back of his hand with her fingers. That one gesture was her undoing. The heat of his skin, the cords running along the back of his hand, caused her blood to ignite. She felt her pulse begin to throb, saw his gaze shift to the hollow of her throat.

With a groan, he moved closer. His fingers linked through hers and an intimate heat, like none other she’d ever felt, passed from his skin to hers.

Stop this, Bliss, while you still can. But it was too late. She was mesmerized by the depths of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the flare of his nostrils. He pulled her next to him and his mouth, wet and hard, found the pulse point in her neck.

No! No! No! a part of her screamed.

Yes, oh, yes! a deeper, more feminine part responded as Mason’s fingers twined in her hair. His lips tasted and touched, pressing soft kisses along the column of her throat. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered in a voice that was rough with need. “So damned long.” His lips found hers again, and desire, new and hot, danced wantonly through her blood.

She couldn’t think, could scarcely breathe as his hands lowered and he cupped both breasts in his rough hands. Bliss’s heart nearly stopped as he buried his face in the cleft, and through the thin cotton of her blouse his breath fanned her skin.