“His truth. Not everyone else’s.”

“It’s my truth too.”

“The hell it is.” Joe’s voice had changed, no longer quite so patient. “You spend most of your time planning one wedding after another. You started a business doing that. Some part of you believes in it.”

“I believe in marriage for some people.”

“But not for yourself?” When it became clear that I wasn’t going to reply, he said, “’Course you don’t. The two most important men in your life gave you a hell of a one-two punch, at a time when you couldn’t protect yourself.” Fervently he added, “I’d like to go back and kick both their asses.”

“You can’t. My father’s gone, and Brian’s not worth it.”

“I still might kick his ass someday.” Joe’s hold on me altered, his hands becoming bolder, more intimate. The sky had turned blood orange, the hot evening air pungent with lantana. “When do you think you’ll be ready to try another relationship?”

In the electric silence that followed, I didn’t dare tell him what I really thought… that rehashing the sad, bitter memories had reminded me how much I wanted to avoid becoming involved with him. “When I find the right kind of man,” I said eventually.

“What kind is that?”

I tensed as I felt his fingers sliding beneath the back placket of my bra. “Independent,” I said. “Someone who agrees that we don’t have to experience everything together. A guy who doesn’t mind if we have separate interests and separate friends, and separate households. Because I like a lot of alone time —”

“What you just described isn’t a relationship, Avery. It’s friends with benefits.”

“No, I wouldn’t mind being part of a couple. I just don’t want a relationship to take over everything.”

We had stopped at the side of the pool, my back to the wall. My toes wouldn’t quite touch the bottom, obliging me to cling to the hard slopes of his shoulders. I dropped my gaze and found myself staring at his chest, mesmerized by the way the water had darkened and flattened the coarse hair.

“That sounds like the same setup you had with Brian,” I heard him say.

“Not exactly the same,” I said defensively. “But yes, something like that. I know what’s right for me.”

I felt a deft tug at the back of my bra, the heavy padded cups loosening. I gasped, my legs churning in a search for traction. His hands slid to my breasts, caressing me under the water, teasing the hardening tips. He pressed me back against the wall, his thigh intruding between mine. “Joe —” I protested.

“Now it’s my turn to talk.” The sound of his voice in my ear was pure sin. “I’m the guy who’s right for you. I may not be what you’re looking for, but I’m what you want. You’ve been alone long enough, honey. It’s time for you to wake up with a man in your bed. Time for the kind of sex that lays you out, owns you, leaves you too shaky to pour your morning coffee.” He pulled me more fully against his thigh, the intimate pressure making me weak with desire. “You’re going to have it every night, any way you want it. I have the time for you, and I sure as hell have the energy. I’ll make you forget every man you ever knew before me. The catch is, you have to trust me first. That’s the hard part, isn’t it? You can’t let anyone get too close. Because someone who knows you like that, he could hurt you —”

“That’s enough.” I floundered and pushed at him clumsily, dying to make him shut up.

His head lowered, and he kissed the side of my neck, using his tongue, making me squirm. In the middle of the twisting and splashing, he wedged both legs between mine and slid a hand over my bottom. I whimpered as he pulled me up against him, there, making me feel how big he was, how ready, and all my senses focused on that stiff, tantalizing pressure.

Gripping his hand in my hair, Joe brought my mouth to his and kissed me, deep and hungry. His other hand kept urging my hips closer, forcing me to ride him in an erotic protean rhythm, and I couldn’t believe how damned shameless he was, and how good he felt, his body so hot and hard against mine. He was deliberate, doing exactly as he pleased, feeding every sensation with raw lust.

As the pleasure climbed, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I had to wrap my legs around him, my nerves screaming, yes, yes, now, and nothing mattered except his hands and mouth and body, the way he was taking me over, bringing more and more pleasure to my dazzled senses. All I wanted was to kiss him and writhe against that relentless heat. I needed this so badly, the feeling that had begun to roll up to me with visceral force —

“Baby, no,” Joe said hoarsely, pulling away with a shiver. “Not here. Wait. This isn’t… no.”

Clinging to the side of the pool, I stared at him with bewildered fury. I couldn’t think straight. I was throbbing in every limb. My brain was slow to process that we weren’t going to finish.

“You… you…”

“I know. I’m sorry. Hell.” Breathing heavily, he turned away, the muscles of his back bunched and sharply delineated. “I didn’t mean to take it that far.”

I was temporarily incoherent with rage. Somehow this man had gotten me to confide in him until I was more vulnerable than I’d ever been with anyone, and then after driving me half-crazy with sexual frustration, he’d called a halt at the last minute. Sadist. I made my way toward the shallowest part of the pool and tried to fasten the back of my bra. But I was shaking and unsteady, and my wet shirt clung obstinately to my skin. I struggled with the sopping mess.