She nearly choked before she managed to swallow the tea that was halfway down her throat. “I don’t . . .” She coughed a little, then tugged the lapels of her robe closer. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Do you consider that an odd question?” Charmed again, he smiled, leaning closer so that he could touch her hair. “You’re so sensitive, so attractive. Other men must have wanted you.”

“No . . . that is, I can’t say. I haven’t really paid much attention.”

“Does it embarrass you for me to tell you you’re attractive?”

“No.” But when she picked up her teacup with both hands she was flushed. “A little, perhaps.”

“I can’t be the first to have told you how lovely you are. How warm.” He pried one of her hands from the cup to soothe her fingers. “How exciting.”

“Yes, you can.” Almost unbearably aroused, she let out a long, shaky breath. “I haven’t had a lot of . . . social experience with men. My studies.” Her breath snagged as he kissed her fingers. “My work.”

He released her hand before he went with his impulse to make love with her again. “But you study men.”

“Studying and interacting are different things.” He didn’t have to touch her to stir her, Libby realized. He only had to look, as he was looking now. “I’m not very outgoing unless I concentrate on it.”

He started to laugh, then realized she believed it. “I think you underestimate Liberty Stone. You took me in and cared for me, and I was a stranger.”

“I could hardly have left you out in the rain.”

“You couldn’t. Others could. History may not be my strong suit, Libby, but I doubt human nature has changed that much. You went out in the storm to find me, brought me into your home, let me stay even when I annoyed you. If I get back to my own time and place it will be because of you.”

She rose then to fix more tea she didn’t want. She didn’t want to think about his leaving, though she knew she would have to. It was wrong to pretend, even for a few hours, that he would stay with her and forget the life he’d left behind.

“I don’t think giving you a bed and some scrambled eggs constitutes a real debt.” She made herself smile as she turned toward him again. “But if you want to be grateful I won’t argue with you.”

He’d said something wrong. Though he couldn’t put his finger on it, Cal could tell from the way her eyes had changed. She was smiling at him, but her eyes were dark and sad. “I don’t want to hurt you, Libby.”