"Can I indeed?"

"Yes, except that I won't take it seriously. By tomorrow everything will change. But tonight is fine."

"Do you think I need your permission to love you?" His voice was still quiet.

"Hey, lighten up," she said, still trying to turn it all into a joke. "We've got the moon and the stars and Venice. Why spoil it by getting serious?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her strangely, like a man trying to comprehend a baffling enigma.

Justine went very deliberately to the recliner, sat down and reached out to him in invitation. After a moment he came to her and took her hand, then knelt beside her and gathered her in his arms.

Now it would happen, she promised herself. Now the attraction that had drawn them together from their first glimpse outside the airport would take over so completely that she could forget caution.

He kissed her slowly, one hand beginning to trace a path from her face, down her neck to her throat. Excitement leapt in her like fire, sending its message in all directions, to her very fingertips, to the heart and depths of her.

As his hand began to drift lower she took a slow breath, eagerly yielding to her sensations.

And then, just as the world began to dissolve, leaving behind only him, it was all taken away. She felt him freeze, then withdraw from her.

Reluctantly Justine opened her eyes and found him looking at her tensely. His breathing was harsh and uneven, and she could feel the strain that racked his whole body.

"What is it?" she whispered. "What's the matter?"

"The matter is that this is not right," he growled.

"How can it be wrong if it's what we both want?"

"Is it? Can you look me in the eyes and say that you truly want me, as I want you? Or are you saying to yourself, I've gone too far to turn back now? Tell me the truth, Justine. I need to know."