“No.” This wasn’t ten years ago, she thought. This was now. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

“I’ll do it.”

She stopped in the doorway, bristling. “It’s my house,” she began.

“It certainly is,” Cliff agreed mildly, then stunned her by running both hands up her naked thighs to her hips. “I don’t mind looking at you half dressed, but it’s bound to distract Stan.”

“Very funny.”

“No, very beautiful.” While she stared, wide-eyed, he lowered his head and kissed her with the first true gentleness he’d shown. She didn’t move or speak when he lifted his head again. Her eyes were still open. “I’ll call the sheriff,” Cliff said roughly. “You get some pants on.”

Without waiting for her reply, he was heading down the steps, leaving her staring after him. Dazed, Maggie lifted a finger to trace over her own lips. That, she decided, had been as unexpected and as difficult to explain as anything else that had happened between them.

Utterly confused, Maggie left the poker tilted against the door and went back to her room. She couldn’t have known he could kiss like that—tenderly, exquisitely. If she couldn’t have known that, she couldn’t have known that her heart could stop beating and her lungs could choke up. The totally different kiss had brought on a totally different reaction. This reaction, she knew, had left her without any form of defense.

A passionate, aggressive demand she could meet with passion and aggression of her own. There they were equal, and if she had no control, neither did he. Urgency would be met with urgency, fire with fire, but tenderness … What would she do if he kissed her like that again? And how long would she have to wait until he did? A woman could fall in love with a man who kissed like that.

Maggie caught herself. Some women, she corrected, hastily dragging on her jeans. Not her. She wasn’t going to fall in love with Cliff Delaney. He wasn’t for her. He wanted no more than—

Then she remembered that he hadn’t left without a word. He hadn’t left at all.

“Maggie!”

The voice from the bottom of the stairs had her jolting. “Yes.” She answered him while she stared at her own astonished face in the mirror.

“Stan’s on his way.”

“All right, I’m coming down.” In a minute, she added silently, in just a minute. Moving like someone who wasn’t sure her legs could be trusted, she sat on the bed.

If she was falling in love with him, she’d better admit it now, while there was still time to do something about it. Was there still time? It washed over her that her time had been up days before, perhaps longer. Perhaps it had been up the moment he’d stepped out of his truck onto her land.