was going to be entirely truthful, then she would have to admit that he had been in and out of her thoughts ever since the first night they met.
Gabriel lifted his right leg over the horse's withers and slid gracefully to the ground. He gave the horse an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and the stallion trotted into the corral.
Without taking his gaze from Sarah's face, Gabriel closed the gate and slid the latch into place.
Sarah clasped her hands together. Gabriel's nearness, the heat in his unblinking stare, made her decidedly nervous. Why hadshe come here? If all she had wanted to do was return his car, she could have brought it back in the morning and left it in the driveway.
Her hands felt clammy, her mouth dry. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her breast, feel the blood pounding in her ears. She stared into his eyes, eyes as gray as a winter day, as hot as the summer sun. His gaze held hers for a long while, then moved down to her lips, to the pulse beating rapidly in her throat.
"Why are you here?" His voice was dark and smooth and soft, like rich black silk.
"I'll see that you get the robe back, too." she replied, wishing she could make herself look away from his eyes.
"Keep it."
"I couldn't. It must have cost a great deal."
"It's yours," he said, sounding angry now. "I bought it for you."
"Like you decorated that room?"
"Yes."
Black, she thought. He was wearing black again. Not jeans and a T-shirt this time, but a heavy black sweater that emphasized the width of his shoulders. Black sweat pants hugged his long, muscular legs. Looking at him, she had the uncomfortable feeling that his constant wearing of black was not merely a fashion statement, but the color of his soul.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't answer my question."
How could she tell Gabriel why she was here? How could she confess that she had gone to the park hoping to see him there, and when he hadn't shown up, she had come looking for him, needing to see him because he knew why she sought the darkness, because he understood her grief. Because his arms were strong and invincible and his voice was low and soft.
Sarah licked her lips nervously. "I thought you could read my mind."
"I'd rather hear it from you."
"It's like I said, I brought your car back. Thanks for letting me take it."
"Liar." His quiet tone took the sting out of the word.
She glared at him, resenting him because he knew the truth, because he made her feel alive again.
"Why, Sarah?"
"All right, I missed you!" She practically screamed the words at him. "I'm lonely, and I missed you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Does it stroke your male vanity?"
Muttering an oath, he took a step toward her, but she took a hasty step in retreat.
"Thanks for the use of the Jag," she said, and lifting her arm, she threw the car keys at him, then turned and ran for the heavy iron gate that led to the street.
"Sarah."
His voice. Just the sound of his voice speaking her name. But it brought her to an abrupt halt. She didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken, just stood there, waiting, her heart beating a wild tattoo.
He made no sound, but she knew he was standing behind her, and then she felt his hands, his long fingers curling over her shoulders, sliding down her arms, sending shivers up and down her spine, and he breathed her name.
"No." She shook her head. "I can't. I don't even know you..." She gasped as his arms slid around her waist, drawing her close so that her back was snug against his chest. "It's too soon..."
He drew in a deep, shuddering breath as he rested his chin on the top of her head. His body sprang to life at her nearness; his nostrils filled with the scent of her skin, of scented soap and shampoo. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, hear the blood thrumming through her veins, warm and sweet with the vitality of life. To his dismay, he felt the blood-lust stir within him, hotter and stronger than his burgeoning desire for her flesh.
"Please," she murmured, "please let me go. I... I don't even know your last name."
"Ognibene." His breath was hot against the side of her neck.
"Is that..." She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. His arms had