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“Not anymore. She was training to be a concert pianist when she met my father.”

“And she gave it up to marry him.”

He made it sound like more of a sacrifice than her mother ever had. “Women did back when my mother was young. She came from
a wealthy background. He didn’t. My father had this need to excel, to do better than my grandfather had.”

Adam was beginning to see the parallel between Joseph Townsend and himself and wondered if Liz did, too. “And did he?”

“Probably.” She wasn’t sure what her father’s holdings were, but they were impressive. And she wasn’t sure why she’d discussed
her family so openly with him when she knew very little about his. It was time to change the focus of the conversation. “Does
Fitz have someone special in his life?” She’d never seen his brother with anyone.

Adam traced his thumb along her wrist and felt her pulse skitter as he decided to keep Fitz’s past private. “Nah, he’s a workaholic.
No time to develop a relationship.”

He’d handed her an opening she couldn’t ignore. “Like you.”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Yes, like me. Workaholics probably shouldn’t think seriously about settling down until they’re
well established. I readily admit I’m not looking for anything permanent at this point in my life. Too much is up in the air.
But that doesn’t rule out a relationship.” If we
could just keep it from getting too significant. “Have you had many relationships?”

She refused to let him think her inexperienced. In truth, she wasn’t, but even Ed Steele, the man she’d dated most at Stanford,
hadn’t lasted long. “A few.”

He managed to keep from smiling. Twenty-one was so young. Seven years separated them, yet he felt aeons older. His growing
up was so different from her protected way of life, it set them worlds apart. Why, then, when his practical side knew all
that, couldn’t he keep her out of his thoughts?

The waiter appeared with crisp Caesar salads, crunchy rolls, and plates of steaming spaghetti bolognese. Liz picked at her
food and sipped the red wine she didn’t want. She shouldn’t have come. Her emotions were in turmoil. Yet how could she have
refused him after all the trouble he’d gone to?

“I didn’t see Molly in San Francisco, either,” Adam commented as he buttered a roll.

“She’s finishing up a couple of paintings that are going on exhibit next month. She may have a one-woman showing at that art
gallery where we bumped into each other recently. Molly’s very serious about her art.” And what about you, Liz Townsend? she
asked herself. What are you serious about?

She was nervous, withdrawing. He tried again. “Do you know that blonde in the office, Diane Cramer, very well?”

Why was he asking her about all these women? Why didn’t he ask his brother? “No, not very.” You didn’t have to know Diane
Cramer well to know exactly what she was. And what she’d seen of her, Liz hadn’t particularly liked. But it wasn’t her place
to say.

Adam watched her set down her fork and gaze out into the rainy evening. “You don’t like Italian food?”

She swung her eyes back, not wanting to hurt his feelings, uncertain of her own. “I love it. I’m just not especially hungry.”

“Neither am I. I want to be alone with you.” He watched her eyes widen, but she didn’t say a word. “Let’s get out of
here.” He signaled the waiter. In minutes they were in the parking lot, dashing through the raindrops toward her car. “I’ll
drive,” he said, taking her keys from her hand. He’d taken a cab from the airport to the little theater, and they’d driven
to Enrico’s in her Mercedes.

It was a silent five-minute ride to his apartment building, the only sound from the rain drumming on the canvas top. Adam
parked in the circular drive out front and hurriedly ushered her into the elevator. The moment the doors closed, he pulled
her to him and took her mouth in a stunning kiss.

Dazed, Liz finally opened her eyes. “I think I’m making a mistake here.”

He kissed her again, openmouthed, stealing her breath away.

Her hands against his chest were trembling. “I
know
I’m making a mistake.”

Nerves. His were jumpy, too. Inside his apartment he turned a lamp on low and punched in a tape. The pulsing sound of classical
guitars thrummed in the background. He looked up to see her still standing hesitantly by the door. “Would you like some wine?”

“I don’t think so.” The calico kitten hurried over, and Liz welcomed the diversion as she bent to pick her up. “I see you’ve
got a roommate.”

“I can’t seem to find anyone who claims her.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Rosie.” He walked to her and stroked the kitten’s sleek back as she purred in Liz’s arms. “When Fitz and I were growing up,
we had a series of cats, and we always named them Rosie. My father greatly admired Franklin Roosevelt and insisted on the
name, male or female. One ran away, another got hit by a car. We just kept getting more.”

Liz put down the kitten and stepped into the living room. She walked over to the wall of windows and stood looking out, imagining
the rain pelting into the sea beyond. The elements
of nature, fiercely beautiful, at once wild and wonderful, impossible to contain.

Like her need for this man, Liz thought, turning to Adam, who’d followed her over.

He stepped close enough to smell the rain in her hair yet didn’t touch her. He felt a trace of annoyance that she could tie
him in such knots and a hint of frustration that he couldn’t overcome his irrational desire for her. No one had ever shattered
his control like this, yet she was unaware of the power she held in her soft hands. Was this what it had been like for his
father, another man who’d been trapped by a savage need that wouldn’t let him be?

Adam lowered his head to kiss her, determined to have her, to get her out of his system once and for all. It had always been
like that for him, to conquer one thing and move on to the next. She wrapped her arms around him, and the reckless assault
on his senses had him reeling.

He backed her to the wall and bent his head to taste the sweet flesh in the V opening of her blouse. His hands slipped behind
and beneath the soft cotton to caress the silken skin of her back. He felt her tremble and was surprised at how much pleasure
her reaction gave him.

But Liz was fighting an internal battle. She wanted desperately to give in to her need for Adam, yet if she did, she felt
she’d be taking her first step down a rocky road. Pulling free, she stepped back. “I can’t do this, Adam.” He was the wrong
man to want. Despite his romantic gesture tonight, his ambition would forever take precedence over his feelings for her.

He dropped his hands, turned aside. “All right. I told you, no seduction unless we both want the same thing.”

She stared at him, feeling torn, feeling frightened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then, before the tears could fall, she hurried
out, closing the door behind her.

At the window he watched lightning split the night sky. He felt like hitting something hard. He’d let her go without a fight,
which wasn’t like him. He, who had persuaded many a
hostile jury to his side. Jamming his hands into his pants pockets, he asked himself why.

She wanted him. He was certain of it. He was bordering on obsession with her, yet to let her go was unthinkable. To hell with
his own rules. He couldn’t lose her.

Adam raced for the elevator and prayed on the ride down that he’d be able to find a cab in this downpour. Rushing outside,
he headed for the street, then stopped. Her Mercedes was still parked where he’d left it. A low-hanging fog had moved in.
Shielding his eyes against the rain, he peered around.

She stepped out from alongside a jacaranda tree, her hair plastered to her head, her blouse and jeans drenched. Slowly he
walked over to her. In the pale light from the lampposts on the entryway, he saw the confusion in her dark eyes.

“I tried to walk away from you,” she finally managed. “I tried so hard.”

“I tried to let you.”

“You’re all wrong for me.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’ve struggled with my feelings since the first day I met you, Adam.”

Adam remembered her story of Nancy. The bad sister and the good sister. The one who disappointed her parents and the one who
never did. The wild one and the repressed one. Rain dripped down his face, beneath his collar. He ignored the discomfort.
“Life’s a crapshoot, Liz. There are no guarantees. I wish I had more answers, but I don’t. Tell me what you want.”

There was a roaring in her ears. She was nearly overwhelmed with her need for this man. She ached with it, throbbed with it.
What did she want? “You,” she answered, her voice husky. “I want you.”

If only she knew how completely she already had him, Adam thought. For that split second of hesitation, he’d been ready to
go down on his knees to her, to beg. Slipping a hand
beneath her knees, he gathered her into his arms and carried her back to his apartment and into his bedroom.

Aroused beyond belief, Adam knew this first time there’d be few preliminaries. He paused only long enough to turn on the lamp
on his bedside table and to grab a towel for each of them. Liz dried her hair while he mopped his face.

There was no time to be nervous, and Liz was grateful. With fingers made clumsy by haste, he pulled her sodden blouse from
her as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. All the while, his mouth skimmed her cheeks, her chin, settling on her lips.
Their clothes hit the hardwood floor with a wet plop. When her hands unfastened his belt buckle and moved to touch his zipper,
he stopped her by easing her onto the heavy navy quilt covering his four-poster bed. In the soft lamplight she watched him
hurriedly yank off the rest of his clothes, then follow her down.

His mouth took hers, and his hands went exploring. Flesh to flesh they tumbled on the twisted sheets, touching everywhere,
tasting everything, caressing each secret place. His need huge, Adam held on to his control by a thread as he sent his lips
on a wild journey over her. He tasted the rain on her skin, inhaled the heady fragrance of passion as she warmed to him.

Shifting restlessly beneath him, Liz felt her stomach muscles quiver. Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind and gave herself
up to the incredible feelings. She hadn’t made love often and not for some time. But none of it had ever felt like this. She’d
never before wanted to taste a man’s rich male flavors, never before been so desperate to be filled, never before been plunged
into passion so thoroughly.

Floating, she absorbed the sensations, letting him feast where he would. When his lips closed over the peak of her breast,
she arched and moaned low in her throat. Her body strained to get closer as he devoured. Then her arms circled his neck and
he shifted his greedy mouth to the other side.

This was what she’d dreamed of and never been able to
put into words. This was the dark madness she’d known was possible yet had never quite achieved. She felt him shiver, banking
his own needs, and knew she’d always longed to be wanted this desperately by a man.

Her skin was young and firm and remarkably smooth. Adam skimmed his mouth along the length of her fantastic legs. His lips
traveled upward and found her ready. Unable to resist, he sent her soaring. The first climax tore through her, followed by
waves of sensation that left her stunned. With the little breath she had left, she whispered his name.

Before she could react, he moved over her and slipped inside. Recovering quickly, she rose to meet him thrust for thrust,
her eyes glazed but open and on his. It occurred to Adam as he moved within her that the conqueror was being conquered as
well.

They found the rhythm instinctively, as if they’d been lovers for years. Her arms went around him as if needing to hold him
ever closer moments before they tumbled over the edge together.

Adam punched the elevator button for the fourth floor and loosened his tie as the doors closed. Alone inside, he leaned against
the mirrored back wall and took a deep breath.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be dropping by Liz’s apartment at this hour. Past eleven. She might be asleep.

He’d spent the evening at a rented hall in Chula Vista, answering questions posed by the mostly Hispanic audience. Fitz had
set up the meeting with one of the local attorneys concerned about Adam’s viewpoint on matters of importance to the large
California Hispanic population.

Endlessly they’d discussed immigration, police harassment, ethnic discrimination, state-sponsored adult English classes. He’d
left feeling that most people there understood his policies and approved of the direction he was hoping to take the state.
But this was the fourth question-and-answer session in as many days, usually after a full day of appointments and interviews,
and he was ready to drop.

The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out, turning
left. He’d talked with Liz around six, and she’d invited him to stop by after his meeting. He hadn’t thought he’d be this
late. He should have driven home, called her, made it another day. But the need to see her was stronger than his desire for
rest.

He shook his head as he recalled that three months ago he’d taken her into his bed thinking that once he’d had her, he’d be
able to get her out of his system. His need for her was stronger each day, a living, breathing thing.

And it scared the hell out of him.

He knocked on the door of apartment 410. Almost immediately it opened. She stood there, obviously fresh from her shower, brushing
back her damp hair, wearing a white wraparound robe and a welcoming smile. It struck him again that there was this air of
innocence about her that totally belied the passionate nature he’d discovered. He felt his fatigue slip away as he stepped
inside and took her into his arms.

He kissed her hungrily, greedily, as if he could never get enough. Lifting his head, he gazed into her dark eyes. How had
he let this happen? he asked himself. He’d had his life neatly mapped out since his teens; he’d calculated every move, considered
each option. He’d planned so carefully, even conjecturing about the unexpected. He’d pondered every possibility except one.