“You must need me for something,” Christopher drawled, “or you would not have come this weekend or sought me out now.”

“Perhaps it was curiosity,” she argued.

“You have investigators to handle that.”

Maria took a deep breath and slipped her blade back into its sheath in a hidden pocket. “We are at an impasse.”

“No, you are at an impasse. I am ready to move on to the sex.”

One corner of her mouth tilted in a wry smile. “You do realize that the sex is supposed to come after we settle what we can do for one another. If it comes at all.”

Christopher stilled, finding his unwanted fascination for the Wintry Widow sharpening to near painful acuity. Physically, he was staring at the exact opposite of himself. Where he was fair, she was dark. Where he was tall, she was petite. Where he was hard, she was luscious softness. But the brain inside her head was so similar to his, he could scarcely credit it. He had known she would circle the pantheon like a huntress seeking prey, because it was exactly what he would do. And the knife…

…well, he would have been prepared for that if she had not melted in his arms.

What he had not known was that he would reach for her. Until she had tossed her lover in his face, a man he knew was not warming her bed any longer simply by watching their posture together. Christopher had planned to keep things light. Draw her closer. Not frighten her.

But obviously she was not a woman who was easily frightened. She was presently returning his stare with one finely arched dark brow raised in silent query. “Your time is up.”

Then she collected her parasol, moved to the pathway, and headed back toward the manse.

He stared after her, debating whether to stop her or not and then deciding that her egress was so magnificently affected it was too much of a joy to end. So he leaned against a tree and watched her until the flashes of ice blue could no longer be seen. The mere thought of the entertainment ahead made the wait for her almost bearable.