Maggie jerked away so quickly his hands fell to his sides. “So, you do believe everything you read.” Her voice was brittle now, and her eyes were cold. “Los Angeles, land of sinning and sinners. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Cliff, but I haven’t filled my life with nameless, faceless lovers. This fills my life.” She slapped her hand down on the piano so that papers slid off onto the floor. “And since you read so much, since you know so much about me, you’ll know that up to two years ago I was married. I had a husband, and as ridiculous as it sounds, was faithful for six years.”

“My question didn’t have anything to do with that.” His voice was so mild in contrast to hers that she stiffened. Maggie had learned to trust him the least when he used that tone. “It was more personal, as in you and me.”

“Then let’s just say I have a rule of thumb not to hop into bed with men I don’t know. You included.”

He crossed the room, then laid his hand over hers on the piano. “Just how well do you have to know me?”

“Better, I think, than I ever will.” She had to fight the urge to snatch her hand away. She’d made a fool of herself enough for one day. “I have another rule about steering clear of people who don’t like who and what I am.”

He looked down at the hand beneath his. It was pale, slender and strong. “Maybe I don’t know who and what you are.” His gaze lifted to lock on hers. “Maybe I intend to find out for myself.”

“You’ll have to have my cooperation for that, won’t you?”

He lifted a brow, as if amused. “We’ll see.”

Her voice became only more icy. “I’d like you to leave. I’ve a lot of work to do.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when you wrote that song.”

Something fluttered over her face so quickly he couldn’t be certain if it was panic or passion. Either would have suited him.

“I said I want you to leave.”

“I will—after you tell me what you were thinking of.” She kept her chin angled and her eyes level. “I was thinking of you.”

He smiled. Taking her hand, he brought her palm to his lips. The unexpected gesture had thunderbolts echoing in her head. “Good,” he murmured. “Think some more. I’ll be back.”

She closed her fingers over her palm as he walked away. He’d given her no choice but to do as he’d asked.

It was late, late into the night, when she woke. Groggy, Maggie thought it had been the dream that had disturbed her. She cursed Cliff and rolled onto her back. She didn’t want to dream of him. She certainly didn’t want to lie awake in the middle of the night, thinking of him.

Staring up at the ceiling, she listened to the quiet. At times like this, it struck her how alone she was. There were no servants sleeping downstairs, as there had been all her life. Her closest neighbor was perhaps a quarter of a mile away through the woods. No all-night clubs or drugstores, she mused. So far, she’d yet to even deal with getting an outside antenna for television. She was on her own, as she’d chosen.