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Kara thought the hours would never pass. She fidgeted through dinner, listened impatiently as Gail recited her homework, stared at the TV without seeing a thing.

At eight-thirty, she tucked Gail into bed and said good night to Nana.Advertisement

At nine o'clock, she took a long, leisurely bubble bath, dressed in a pair of silky black pants and a pale pink sweater, combed her hair, brushed her teeth, applied her lipstick with care.

At ten o'clock, she went out into the backyard and sat on the swing.

And waited.

And waited.

At eleven, she told herself he wasn't coming. And still she waited, wondering what there was about Alexander Claybourne that touched her so deeply.

Perhaps it was the air of supreme loneliness that clung to him. Perhaps it was the feeling that he needed her, although she admitted that was probably just wishful thinking on her part.

"Kara."

His voice. Was it real, or was she still dreaming? "Alexander?"

"I'm here."

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She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I must have fallen asleep."

"You should not be out here. It's cold."

He was wearing a long black coat that reminded her of the dusters old-time cowboys used to wear. Shrugging it off, he draped it over her shoulders.

"You said you'd be here at ten."

"I know."

She looked up at him, waiting for an explanation, an apology, something. But he only stood there, gazing down at her, his dark eyes filled with sadness.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I should not have come here."

"Why? Oh, no." She shook her head, certain he was about to tell her he had a wife and the requisite two-point-three children. "You're married, aren't you?"

Alexander laughed softly, wishing it was something as ordinary as a wife that was keeping them apart. "No, Kara, I'm not married."

"What is it then?"

"I'm afraid you have asked the one question I cannot answer."

"Then I won't ask it again."

The simplicity of her reply, the trust shining in her eyes, was his undoing. Kneeling before her, he took her hand in his.

"Kara, I am not like other men. You must never love me. Or trust me."

"I don't understand."

"Pray you never do."

"But . . ." She bit down on her lower lip, remembering she had promised not to ask why. "Are we never to see each other again?"

"It would be for the best."

"For who?"

"For you."

"Don't I have anything to say about it?"

"No."

"If you don't want to see me anymore, why did you come here tonight?"

"Because I could not stay away."

She smiled triumphantly. "So you do want to continue seeing me!"

"It is my fondest desire."

"Mine, too." She put her hand over his mouth when he started to speak. "No. Don't say another word. I want to be with you. You want to be with me. I don't see the problem."

Gently, he removed her hand from his mouth, then kissed her palm. Warmth feathered up her arm to pool around her heart.

"I hope you never do," Alexander said quietly. Rising, he drew her to her feet. "Your leg_it's better?"

Kara nodded. "The doctor said I can go back to work next week."

"Will you meet me here again tomorrow night?"

She nodded again, happiness welling inside her. "Will you kiss me good night?"

"Will the sun rise in the morning?" he murmured, and then he slanted his mouth over hers, his lips claiming hers in a long, lingering kiss that left her shaken to the soles of her feet.

When he took his mouth from hers, Kara swayed against him, certain she would have fallen but for his arms around her.

"I hope you do not regret this, Kara."

"I won't," she whispered. "I won't."

"Good night, then," he replied, and hoped, for her sake, that she grew tired of him before it was too late.

In the last hours before dawn, Alexander sat in front of his computer, reading what he had written earlier. pqdm.com