His lights were on. She had only to climb up that one short flight of wooden stairs and knock on the door. He would know, and would take. She would, she promised herself as she crossed her hands over her speeding heart. As soon as she had composed herself, as soon as the giddiness faded a little.

She went into the stables instead, moving down the line of drowsy horses. She hadn’t seen the foal since its birth, she reminded herself. She only wanted to look, to admire. Then she would go up and knock.

At the stall door, she studied the mother and child. The foal lay curled on the hay, the mare standing slack-legged beside her.

“I miss having a baby who needs me,” she murmured. “They trust you to take care of them. It’s the most incredible feeling, isn’t it? Knowing that came from you.”

She indulged herself another moment, stroking the mare’s head when it was offered. Then she turned, and he was there. All in black, he was like a shadow that became real in a blink. She stepped back.

“I was—I hadn’t seen the foal since—I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’ve been disturbing me for a long time. Longer than I realized.” His gaze holding hers, he stepped forward. “I saw you, running across the lawn. In the starlight. You looked like something out of a dream. But you’re not, are you?”

“No.” She retreated again, nerves shattered. “I should go, I—” She couldn’t take her eyes off his as he came closer, boxed her against the stall door. “I should go.”

“Pretty Laura Templeton,” he murmured. “You always look so polished, so perfect. Nothing out of place.” He skimmed a finger over the soft lapel of her blouse, dipped a finger in the vee and watched her eyes go dark. “Makes a man like me want to muss you up, get right under that polish and find out just who the hell you are.”

He closed his hands over her breasts, calloused hands over thin silk. Felt her shudder. “Who the hell are you, Laura? Why are you here?”

Her heart was pounding against his palm, so violently that she wondered it didn’t simply leap out into his hand. “I came to see the foal.”

“Liar.” He pressed her back against the wood, and when the door gave, she would have stumbled if he hadn’t held her. “I bet he never mussed you up, did he? Always polite, always the gentleman. You won’t get that from me.”

“I—” She was panicked now, thrilled, terrified. Her gaze darted from his as hay crackled under her feet. The stall was empty but for them. She was alone with him. Trapped. “I don’t know how to do this.”