Burke wrapped himself in a thick white terry-cloth robe and picked up a towel from the wrought-iron chaise longue. Rubbing his wet hair briskly, he tried to dislodge thoughts of Callie from his mind. He had hoped several swift laps in the pool, combined with the chilly November night air, might dampen his ardor. Dammit, something had to work. He couldn’t spend two days and nights in this state of arousal!

Stay outside for a while, he told himself. Breathe in all this fresh sea air and let the autumn wind blow away the confused thoughts from inside your head. He was in a no-win situation—damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. His instincts told him that if he went upstairs, he’d find Callie still awake. And if he pushed her the least bit, she’d give in to him. She might not want to lie down with the mongrel she thought he was, but she would. She would because she wanted him in the same crazy way he wanted her.

The primitive need that rode him hard wasn’t something he’d had to deal with very often. In his youth, when he’d been randy day and night, he would have bedded almost any willing female. But this specific yearning, this desire for one particular woman was alien to his nature. With two exceptions. Once, with his mystery woman, whose face he couldn’t even remember. And now, with Callie.

Burke walked to the awning-covered terrace and sat in one of the cushioned rattan chairs. The electric torchères at the far end of the pool area threw soft shadows across the dark terrace. Tossing back his head, he closed his eyes and willed himself under control. Being this close to Callie and not being allowed to touch her was sheer torture. Perhaps he deserved punishment for having inadvertently allowed her to become involved in the dirty mess with Simon. God knew there had to be a reason he was being tormented this way.

Had he been sitting there for two minutes or ten? He didn’t know. But suddenly he sensed her presence, even before he glanced up and saw her entering the outer terrace. Straightening in the chair, he watched her and soon realized she was searching for something—for him! Just as he started to speak, to let her know that he was near, she turned and stared right at him.

“Hello.” Her voice was soft and raspy, as if she’d been crying.

“Did you ring Enid again?” he asked, when what he wanted to say was, Why are you here? Don’t you know that you aren’t safe with me?

“Yes, I rang her, for the third time since we left London,” she admitted. “But I got to speak to Seamus only the one time. He was napping when I rang from Naples, and this time he was asleep for the night, of course.”

“I take it that all is well?” Burke inquired.

“Quite well. It seems that Seamus has taken a liking to Leland.” Callie sighed. “And so has Enid.”

“Enid and Leland?” Burke chuckled. What an unlikely pair!

“Mm. Your Mr. Perkins had best watch himself or he’ll wind up wondering what hit him. Enid can be quite lethal, you know.”

“That must be a family trait.” Burke rose from the chair and stood, his gaze lingering on Callie.

She wore a white robe identical to his. The robes were staples in the baths, kept there for the convenience of his guests. Callie had let her hair down, and the dark, fiery mass hung about her shoulders in curly disarray. She had removed her makeup, leaving only the fresh, youthful glow of her flawless skin.

“Do you think I’m lethal?” she asked somberly.

“Most definitely. Lethal to a man’s self-control. Lethal to a man’s sanity.” He took a tentative step toward her. “You’ve driven me quite mad, you know. When I’m with you—”

“You’re the one who is dangerous.” Callie untied and loosened the belt holding the robe together and let the lapels fall apart. “You tempt me to forget all the reasons I should stay away from you.”

He caught a glimpse of her flesh, her legs, her belly, the swell of her breasts. He became instantly hard. What sort of game was she playing? he wondered. Or was this attempt at seduction no game at all?

Callie eased the robe from her shoulders and dropped it to the tiled terrace floor. Burke swallowed hard. She wore a skimpy teal-green bikini. The top was little more than two small triangles that covered her nipples and the center of her round, firm breasts. And the bottom was a thong, with only a triangle covering the apex between her thighs.

She’d better not be toying with him! The savage beast within him roared. If she thought she could expose herself this way and not arouse him to the point of no return, she was sadly mistaken.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

Callie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. With a hint of a smile quavering on her lips, she looked directly at him. And then, without a word, she turned and dived into the pool.

As she leisurely swam the length of the heated pool, she listened, waiting for Burke to follow her. Within minutes, the resounding splash announced his plunge into the water. You shouldn’t be doing this, her conscience warned. You know there will be a price to pay for dancing with the devil. But I don’t care. God, forgive me, but I don’t care!

Burke caught up with her as she neared the side of the pool. With a fierce lunge, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to the shallow end, bringing her up so that her feet touched the bottom of the pool. Water lapped around her hips and the cool night air chilled her naked flesh. Her peaked nipples pushed against the thin barrier of cloth that covered them.

When she saw the look of raw hunger in Burke’s eyes, she almost cried out in fear. Moving her backward to brace her hips against the wall of the pool, Burke slid his hand beneath her wet hair and grasped the back of her neck. His mouth descended and his lips covered hers with an urgency that took her breath away. He tasted of wine—the rich, red wine they’d drunk with dinner. Had he finished off the bottle alone, after she’d fled from the study? This question was her last totally coherent thought, as Burke led her deeper into the sensual haze that encompassed her completely.

While he ravaged her mouth with a kiss that alternated between brutal possession and stimulating tenderness, he reached around to the ties of her bikini top and undid them. So engrossed in the nearness of his big, hard body and the devastating effect of his kiss, Callie was only partially aware that she was now almost totally naked. But the moment her nipples pressed against his chest hair, she moaned deep in her throat. The sensation spiraled through her, from breasts to feminine core and then to every nerve ending in her body.

While he explored her mouth, she clung to his broad shoulders. She allowed him freedom to do whatever he wanted and it soon became apparent that what he wanted was precisely what she wanted. All the while his mouth worked its magic spell, he held her head in place with one hand and used the other to artfully remove the thong that protected her body from his complete invasion.

The expectation sent shock waves through her body. While his hand separated her thighs and his fingers worked their way around and about and inside, her femininity clenched and unclenched in preparation.

“I don’t want our first time to be in the pool,” he whispered in her ear, then drew her out of the water.

Quickly he wrapped her robe around her shoulders and slipped into his, then guided her into the house through the open French doors that led into the study. Before she could protest, he tossed aside his robe and hurriedly removed hers, then took her hands in his and drew her across the room. He eased her onto the rug in front of the bright, warm fire and came down over her, his face tense with the struggle to control himself. She understood only too well the hunger that he could not disguise.

Burke was big and broad and blatantly aroused. He lowered his body just enough to brace himself on his elbows and smothered her with another possessive kiss. She expected him to take her, to enter her body and claim her. But instead he began touching her. Softly, with fingertip caresses—all over her body. From neck to shoulders. From shoulders to hands. From collarbone to navel. From hip to knee.

Mercy! He was teasing her. Tormenting her. Arousing her. This was what she remembered. A talented lover. A maestro of foreplay.

Soon his lips, tongue and teeth joined in the adventure. Tasting, licking, nipping. But he deliberately avoided her nipples, which stood rigidly erect, aching for the feel of his mouth and tongue, begging for attention.

She writhed beneath him as longing coursed through her body, heating her blood. Her breasts ached. Her feminine core throbbed.

“Please, Burke.” She speared her fingers through his hair and tried to bring his mouth to her breasts.

“Please, what?” His breath was hot on her breast, but his lips didn’t make contact with her flesh.

“Touch me,” she pleaded.

“Where?”

“Here!” Cupping one breast, she lifted it to his lips.

As if he knew she had reached her limit, he flicked his tongue and raked it hurriedly over her nipple. She cried out as the unbearable pleasure rioted inside her. Liking her reaction, he rewarded her by focusing on her breasts. While his mouth adored one breast, his fingertips played havoc with the other. Callie moaned when sensations so incredible she could hardly endure them spread throughout her body. Need so great she would have killed to acquire fulfillment claimed her, mind and body.

She bucked her hips, inviting him, urging him. Take me! Take me now! her body cried.

Aching with the need to have him inside her, Callie tried to drag him down to her. She clasped his buttocks and pushed. He slid between her legs, rubbing seductively over her feminine core. But before she could grasp him and bring him into her, he moved down her body, his tongue painting a moist trail from breasts to thighs. With his head between her parted legs, he kissed her intimately.

“Burke!”

“Yes, my darling?”

“What…oh…”

When his tongue sought and found the tight kernel protected by hot, wet flesh, she shivered uncontrollably.

Momentarily ceasing his assault, he whispered, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Mm…” She couldn’t speak, could barely utter even the most simple compliance.

While he loved her with his mouth, each stroke bringing her closer and closer to completion, his fingers caressed her nipples, building the tension tighter and tighter. Suddenly the world exploded. In her. Around her. Waves of tumultuous release washed over her, tossing her into the throes of a climax unlike anything she’d ever before experienced.

While aftershocks tingled in and about her feminine core, Burke lifted her hips and plunged into her. She whimpered when he filled her. He was big and hard and demanding. And she loved the feel of him. The taste of him. The scent of him. The sound of his labored breathing and harsh, manly grunts as he rode her.

He hammered into her with a fury born of intense passion and a need to possess her completely. His climax came like a bolt of lightning—fast and furious and electrifying. As completion claimed him, his body draining into hers, Callie lifted against him and cried out with the unparalleled pleasure of a second release.

Sated, relaxed and totally satisfied, they lay together on the rug in front of the fireplace. When his breathing returned to normal, Burke rose to his knees, then lifted her into his arms and stood. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. He nuzzled the side of her face.

“I’m going to make love to you again and again,” he said. “For the next two days, we have no pasts and no futures. There is no one else in the world, except the two of us.”

“Just you and me,” she agreed.

Callie awoke the next day in Burke’s massive, decorative, black wrought-iron bed, situated on a raised dais. Sheer cream-colored curtains formed a canopy around them. Morning sunlight streamed through the balcony doors. She lifted her head from the pillow and glanced at the sleeping man beside her. The satin sheet covered him only to his waist, leaving his broad, hairy chest visible.

He was a beautiful man. And sexy beyond belief. A warm blush covered her cheeks as she remembered what had happened between them last night and again shortly after dawn. The things they’d said to each other! And the things they’d done! Callie had never imagined lovemaking could be so deliciously wicked and so gloriously earth-shattering.

Two years ago, Burke had been drunk and yet had made love to her with a passion unlike anything she’d ever known. But a sober Burke had taken her to heights she’d never dreamed existed. Dear God, no wonder practically every woman in Europe stood in line to get into his bed. And to think he was her husband!

But only temporarily. Only for the weekend would she allow herself to truly be his wife, she reminded herself. Enjoy what you have for the moment. Don’t let thoughts of what happens when you return to London interfere with this once-in-a-lifetime pleasure.

“I don’t like that frown on your face,” Burke said as he opened his eyes and looked at her.

She smiled. “No more frowns. Not today. And not tomorrow.”

He lifted a hand and cupped one of her breasts. She sucked in her breath. “Are you sore? I want you again, but I don’t—”

She answered his question by whipping the sheet away from his body and shoving it to the foot of the bed. He was aroused and ready.

Before she took things any further, Burke halted her. “Remember the condoms,” he told her.

She nodded and reached to the nightstand where a box of protective sheaths lay open. She slipped a packet from the box, then ripped it open and handed the condom to Burke. She watched with fascination as he slipped it over his erection.

“I’m sorry I got so carried away the first time and didn’t use anything,” he said. “It’s not like me to forget. I’m always very careful.”

“It’s all right,” she told him, but something deep within her heart wanted to remind him that he had forgotten once before. One life-altering night when she had conceived his child. A premonition flashed through her mind. The image of a little redheaded girl lingered in her thoughts. No. No! She couldn’t be pregnant.

“You’re frowning again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you’re pregnant…”

She covered his lips with her index finger. “Hush. I’m not pregnant.”

“I never asked, but are you on the pill?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m not pregnant.” Fate wouldn’t play the same trick on me again, she thought.

“If you are, we’ll deal with it. You mustn’t worry.”

What did he mean, we’ll deal with it? Would he expect her to give up her child? Stop tormenting yourself, an inner voice advised. By the time you find out if you’re pregnant or not, you’ll be out of Burke’s life once and for all. You’ll be safely in America. You and Seamus and…

Callie dismissed the worries of reality from her mind. She had promised herself two days of pretense, of illusion, of making enough memories to last a lifetime.

She straddled his hips, and gently guided him inside her. She eased herself over him, slowly taking him completely. He groaned deep in his throat and clutched her hips.

She rode him, slowly at first, savoring each undulation as she set the pace. But as their mating continued and her body became thoroughly aroused, she increased the tempo until she moved in a frenzy, seeking release. They climaxed simultaneously. The earth moved. Fireworks exploded. She relaxed on top of him, their flesh glued together with sexual perspiration.

Monday afternoon arrived too soon. Burke was not prepared to end the idyllic honeymoon. Moments out of time. No past. No future. Only the glorious present. Night had melted into day and again into night as they laughed and talked and made love again and again.

Burke hadn’t wanted to leave the villa, hadn’t wanted the interlude with Callie to end. She fulfilled him in ways no other woman ever had. Not only sexually—and he had to admit that her inexperience pleased him because she was an adept pupil who was eager to learn—but emotionally. She seemed interested in what he thought and how he felt. She wanted to know all about his childhood, his parents and his entire family. Callie was an ideal companion—friend, confidante and lover. But a phone call from Jonah prompted Burke to follow their original plan and return to London Monday evening. The arms deal had gone through, but unfortunately hadn’t turned out as planned. Once again, the wily Simon had outsmarted SPEAR and escaped, not only with his life, but with a goodly portion of the weapons.

“However, we did manage to capture one of his employees,” Jonah had said. “The man was quite willing to exchange information for his life. It seems the weapons are headed for L.A.”

“The drug wars,” Burke had commented.

“Exactly. There’s money to be made in the drug trade and Simon needs money to continue financing his schemes.”

“Does Simon think I double-crossed him?” Burke had asked, greatly concerned that Callie and her child might be in danger. More danger than ever.

“We handled that problem. You’re in the clear. No fingers point to you as the traitor, so we feel certain that you and Ms. Severin—excuse me, Mrs. Lonigan—and her son are safe from any future reprisals. But I’d wait a month or so before following through with the divorce. Just in case Simon continues to keep tabs on you.”

When they disembarked from the private jet at Heathrow, Burke felt Callie’s withdrawal the moment she saw Leland and Enid, who held young Seamus on her hip. The child wore a blue coat and cap, with mittens on his little hands and a plaid scarf around his neck that hid the lower half of his face. Callie rushed forward, racing toward her baby. The moment she reached Enid, she grabbed her son into her arms and held him to her chest. The sight of mother and child touched something deep inside Burke, and a slight twinge—a pang of jealousy—tightened his gut. He wasn’t jealous of the child, but of the child’s father. He didn’t like the thought that Callie might still care for the man, whoever he was.

Burke reached out and grasped Leland’s shoulder. “Good to see you, old man.”

“Good to have you back, sir.”

“I’m afraid I have some urgent business to attend to,” Burke told Callie, who stood facing him, her son cuddled in her arms, his back to Burke. “Leland will take you and Seamus to my house and I’ll join you later tonight. But don’t wait up.”

“Why can’t we go home with Enid?” Callie asked. “Wouldn’t that be simpler?”

“You’re my wife now,” he reminded her. “It will be expected for you and Seamus to live with me.”

“But just for tonight—”

Burke gave her a disapproving glare. “When I arrive home tonight, I expect you and Seamus to be there. You can move whatever you need from Enid’s place into mine tomorrow.”

“But now that the danger is over, what’s the necessity of continuing this charade?” When her son whimpered, Callie soothed him and quickly said to Burke, “Go on and take care of whatever needs your attention. We’ll settle this tomorrow.”

“Very well.” Burke turned to Leland. “I’ll get a cab to the office. You take Enid home and then drive Mrs. Lonigan and her son directly to Belgravia.”

“Yes, sir.”

Callie waited until Burke had disappeared from sight before she confronted Enid. “Why did you and Seamus come to the airport to meet us?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Enid replied as she looked meaningfully at Leland. “I wasn’t left a choice.”

Callie snapped her head around and glared at Burke’s employee. “Did you force Enid to bring Seamus to meet me?”

“The car is waiting, madam,” Leland said. “We should be going.”

“Not until you answer my question.”

“Very well, madam. Yes. I thought you and Mr. Lonigan would be eager to see your son.”

A shiver of apprehension raced up Callie’s spine. “Yes, well…I’m very happy to see Seamus, but there was no need to bother Burke with a sleepy, whimpering child.”

“I thought Mr. Lonigan should meet young Seamus,” Leland said, then reached over to tickle Seamus under the chin. “Such a handsome lad. We’ve become fast pals, haven’t we, Seamus?”

Seamus grinned, that bright, baby smile that warmed her heart. Callie’s gaze met and locked with Leland’s, and she realized that he knew. Dear God in heaven, he knew!

“It’s all right, madam. I have no intention of telling Mr. Lonigan,” Leland said. “But if I were you, I’d find a way—before he gets a good look at Seamus—to explain to him why your son is his spitting image. I’ve seen a photograph of Mr. Lonigan as a lad. He keeps the picture in his study. One of him with his mother when he was about two years old. That picture could easily be of young Seamus.”