It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that Reed shoved his plate to one side and fixed her with a cool, determined gaze. "So tell me, Ms. Makepeace. Are you ready to admit the truth now?"

Angie froze, a forkful of frenette nere halfway to her mouth. "Excuse me?"

"I keep waiting for you to explain what we’re doing here, but so far you haven’t cooperated."

Carefully returning her fork to her plate, she scrambled for a reply. "Haven’t we discussed this already?"

"We’ve danced around the subject any number of times." He leaned forward. "The question I want answered is...why? Why are you so interested in my love life? What the hell business is it of yours?"

"You don’t understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"It’s...it’s complicated."

He reached out, capturing her hand in his. "You promised to always tell the truth."

"Please don’t ask me this particular question."

"Why?" His index finger stroked the back of her hand, tracing a leisurely path upward. "Won’t I like your answer?"

She fought to suppress an involuntary shiver. "Reed--"

"Tell me why we’re really here, Angie."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn’t arrange this evening because you thought I needed dating lessons."

She stared at him, startled. "Yes! Yes, I did."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you’re starving. Like you’ve been adrift for most of your life and just now found home port."

"I’m doing no such thing."

"You said you never lie. Yet, I’m looking into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen and it’s all right there. The hunger. The irresistible attraction. The invitation."

"Stop it, Reed."

"Relax, sweetheart. I feel the same way. I wanted you the first minute I saw you, too. You were trouble in a red dress, but I didn’t have the willpower to send you away."

"You’re not supposed to say these things to me."

"Isn’t that why we’re here?" His eyes darkened, the dark browns and greens eclipsing the gold. "Isn’t that why we’re playing out this charade?"

She had the terrible suspicion that she’d screwed up another mission. Badly. "What do you mean?"

"You want me, Angie, every bit as much as I want you. Isn’t that why you arranged tonight?"

"No! You’ve totally misunderstood. I arranged tonight in order to teach you how to date."

"Bull. You didn’t come tonight to teach me how to date. You came to date me."

There was a horrible logic to his accusation. A logic she shied away from pursuing. "You’ve made a mistake," she insisted tightly.

"Come off it, Angie. Why don’t you use some of that honesty you value so highly and admit the truth. Let’s finish this. We’ve talked. We’ve exchanged glances. We’ve even touched, though not nearly enough. To hell with coffee. To hell with dessert. Call it a love rush. Rationalize the attraction any damn way you want. But be honest about your feelings and come home with me."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Slowly she shook her head. "No. No, you’ve got it all wrong. You have to be wrong."

Abruptly, she thrust back her chair and snatched up her purse. And then she walked as quickly as she could toward the exit, moving faster and faster until she looked like a finger of fire racing across the restaurant. She heard Reed call to her, but ignored him, ignored everything except the urgent need to escape. She rushed past Rollo and entered the revolving doors. She felt Reed right behind, crowding her into the tiny cubicle, his heat branding her spine.

"Ah, the love rush," Rollo called after them, raising his fingers to lips and blowing them a kiss. "At last."

The doors took forever to turn. Finally they opened onto the street, allowing her to escape. She didn’t linger, instead hurrying down the sidewalk away from Sarducci’s.

"Angie, wait." Reed caught her arm before she’d gone more than half a dozen steps.

"No!" She turned to confront him. Distant thunder rumbled through the city, echoing off steel and concrete. "You don’t understand. You have it wrong. All wrong."

A flash of lightning lit the nighttime sky, throwing the taut planes of Reed’s face into sharp relief and flashing eerily in the golden-green depths of his eyes. "Then explain it to me."

"I’m not here for you. This...this thing between us... It’s impossible."

"Is it?" He caught her in his arms, pulled her firmly against him. She could feel his raw power, could sense the tight rein he kept on his desire. "You swore you wouldn’t lie to me, Angie. But that’s precisely what you’re doing."

"There’s nothing between us, Reed. There can’t be."

"I can prove there is." He cupped her head, his hand sinking into the knot of curls. "It would be all too easy. All I’d have to do is this...."

Reed bent his head to steal a kiss, then hesitated, arrested by the expression on Angie’s face.

Tears gathered in her eyes, giving mute testimony to the fact that this wasn’t a game. Not for her. He’d never known anyone with as much self-possession as this woman, someone as comfortable with herself or with the unmistakable frailty she found in others. And yet, holding her in his arms, gazing into her sea-swept eyes, he saw the painful depth of her vulnerability. She stood before him, unshielded and assailable. In the far distance, lightning clawed apart the sky again, silvering her face in its unearthly glow, illuminating what she strove so hard to disguise.

She was afraid, he realized in shock. It radiated from her with stunning force.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What are you afraid of?"

She started to turn away and he didn’t think she’d answer. Then she lifted her chin, anger vying for supremacy over her fear. "Da-- darn it all! I can’t believe this is happening. You want an answer?" The words spilled from her in an emotional torrent. "Fine, I’ll give you one. I’m afraid our relationship will get out of hand. I’m afraid I’ll fail at my job. I’m afraid of the future. But most of all, I’m afraid of what I--" Her voice broke painfully and she pulled against his hold.

He refused to release her. "Finish it. What are you most afraid of?"

"Of what I feel. There, are you satisfied now?"

"It’s a simple kiss, Angie," he soothed. "It’s nothing to fear."

After all, what could one kiss hurt?

He bent his head, waiting for a refusal that never came. Her silence gave him all the permission he needed. His mouth closed over hers and ever so gently he tasted the moist softness, allowing her to taste him as well. It was a cautious give and take, slow and careful and considerate, the passion held firmly in check. It offered them a sampling of pleasures to come, a mere sip of wine-sweet anticipation.

"See?" he murmured, pulling back slightly. "Nothing to fear."

She made no move to escape. Instead she seemed to drink in the moment, intoxicated by the pure simplicity of their kiss. Her lashes fluttered and she looked at him. The sheer joy reflected in her dream-laden eyes stunned him as much as the intensity of her yearning roused his curiosity. Perhaps she’d had a bad experience recently. Perhaps she’d been holding men at a distance. Or perhaps she just needed the warmth of human touch. Not that it mattered. Her reaction drew him, invited him to magnify that joy.

He sealed her mouth once again and this time there was nothing tentative about his kiss. He didn’t sample. He took. He didn’t lightly linger, but explored with rapacious curiosity. He melded them with lips and teeth and tongue. Her response came with a ferocious power identical to the storm bearing down around them.

It was her turn to take, her turn to explore, her turn to brand him with her unique taste and touch. Thunder reverberated beneath their feet, shuddering through them, quickening the bone-deep longing and stirring a primitive mating urge that was eons old. Her lips parted and her breath became his. She tasted like raw hunger, anticipation scenting her with the fragrance of irresistible temptation.

Physical desire slammed through his body. He wasn’t alone. Reed could see the budded tips of Angie’s breasts pressing through the thin silk of her dress, hear the harsh catch in her throat as he molded her close, feel the urgent tripping of her heartbeat. He wanted her. He wanted her in his bed, stripped of all artifice, her vulnerability transposed into strength, her passion equaled only by his own. The storm broke, pelted them with stinging spears of chilly rain. Reluctantly, Reed pulled back.

"You see?" he repeated. "There’s nothing to fear."

Raindrops clung to Angie’s hair and lashes, glittering beneath the street lights like liquid diamonds. "And I told you this was impossible!"

He framed her face with his hands, laughing as the skies finally opened and a cold, invigorating downpour drenched them. "Impossible? Wet, perhaps. But not impossible."

"Yes, it is!" She could hardly hear her own words. They were drowned out by all the sounds around them--the muted roar of the traffic, the hiss of tires on rain-slick pavement, the distant rumble of thunder and the deadening thrumming of the summertime rain as it pelted the concrete-laden earth. She stepped back, forcing him to release her, forcing him to listen. "We can’t do this!"

"Why?"

She shouted, lifting her voice so he’d hear across the great chasm that separated them--so that she’d hear, as well, and remember. "Because I’m not a woman. I’m an angel. And I was sent here to find you a wife. There. How’s that for honesty?"