This morning, though, he seemed to be easing back into consciousness, sensation by sensation. First it was the heat that tugged at his senses. Then it was the sweet, sweet smell of some light-as-air flowery scent, layered with an undertone of dark, musky sensuality. And then, dear heaven, it was the soft-as-satin brush of skin against skin, a teasing caress that had his blood pumping so hard and fast he thought his heart might flat-out explode in his chest.

That woke him, all right! His eyes snapped open to gaze straight into sleepy, dark eyes that struck him as far more troubled than they ought to be after such an incredible night.

“You’re looking mighty serious,” he said, brushing Janet’s hair back over her shoulders so he could drink his fill of the sight of those rose-tipped breasts. The peaks pebbled at once, even under such an off-hand caress. He might have lingered longer, intensified his touch, had Janet’s gaze not seemed so fraught with worry.

“Regrets?” he asked.

“None,” she swore.

Harlan wasn’t convinced. “You sure?”

“I could never regret what happened between us last night,” she said more firmly.

Though he was still doubtful, he decided he’d just have to take her at her word. “Then I think we ought to talk about making it permanent.”

This time there was no mistaking the alarm that flared in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered, touching a finger to his lips. “Please, don’t say any more.”

He couldn’t take rejection so easily, not when he had his heart set on spending his future with this woman, not when he knew without a trace of doubt that deep inside that was what she wanted, too. He suspected he even knew what was preventing her from accepting his proposal.

“You don’t even want me saying that I love you?” he said, keeping his tone light. “You don’t want to hear that I won’t settle for anything less than making you my wife, not after last night?”

A tear slid slowly down her cheek, even as she declined his proposal for a second time.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Of course you can,” he insisted just as adamantly. “There’s nothing to stop you, except some foolish willfulness on your part.”

He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they had been exactly the wrong thing to say. Whatever she was struggling with—and he was certain now that he knew what it was—he shouldn’t have dismissed it as foolish or willful. A milewide stubborn streak would kick in over words like that. His own certainly would have.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologized at once.

“No,” she said stiffly, retreating as far from him in the bed as she could and surrounding herself with layers of covers despite the room’s more than comfortable temperature. “You shouldn’t have.”