The night had turned downright chilly, midnight chilly, except when she was circled in his arms. And when he dropped his arms, he still didn't look at the uniformed guy, but only at her. His voice was thicker than smoke, lower than blues. "We're going back to my place."

"Yes," she said, as if it were the only word she knew, the only word she could say.

Even at that moment, she knew he wasn't referring to her having no other place to stay. He wasn't offering her his couch.

And she wasn't leaping to offer excuses-too much wine, too much dinner, too much of an exhausting, terrible day, too much Paris.

She knew what he was inviting.

She knew what she was saying yes to.

Where it had taken almost an hour to get to the port where the cruise began, it seemed only minutes before they were back at Will's place, hauling her suitcases from his trunk. He'd left no lights on. She plunked one case right inside the hallway; he dropped the other two. He'd barely closed the door before leaning her against the hard surface and leveling another kiss on her. This one happened to be a whole-body kiss, involving his chest, his knee, his tongue, his hands, his erection. His soul.

And hers. It wasn't totally her fault she couldn't stop kissing him. Lonesomeness poured off Will in waves. This just wasn't about horniness or chemistry or that kind of nuisance stuff. He tugged at something in her. something huge. A loneliness. A yearning. A need to be with someone-someone who filled up the emptiness. Someone who mattered. Someone who touched her. Not on the outside, on the inside.

He did stop for breath once, but only to grumble. "If you say no now, you'll kill me."

At that moment, her thin sweater was flying somewhere over her head. His right shoe was gone. Her knee had regretfully connected with a wall. Neither had turned on a light yet. but the glow of streetlights below was starting to infiltrate the darkness. She could see the fierce shine in his eyes. Feel. see. the tension in his body, in his face.