"No! Oh no," she cried, rolling away from his touch. "Don't, Ross. We can't."
He pulled her back into his arms, kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips.
"Charity, Charity," he murmured. "I want to make love with you. I want to touch you and I want you to touch me. I want to start a fire inside you that only I can quench." He took her chin in his hand. "Don't pretend you don't want that, too."
"No, Ross." She shook her head, her dark eyes plead ing for him to understand. "I can't sleep with you."
He didn't take her seriously at first. "Why not?" He grinned. "We're married, aren't we?"
She nodded. "That's just it. This whole marriage farce. That's why we can't."
His eyes darkened. He was beginning to realize she was serious. And stubborn. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I knew you wouldn't understand."
He took a deep breath. "I'm trying very hard to under stand." But he reached for her again.
"We shouldn't do this," she whispered.
"Why not?" he murmured, pushing back her hair and nuzzling his face against her hairline.
But Charity didn't melt against him this time. "It's wrong. This whole thing is wrong. We're insulting the en tire institution of marriage. Don't you see?"
"No, I don't see." His voice was hard, almost angry, but at the same time he was watching her, and he knew she was sin cere. She really meant it. She couldn't follow the urgency her body demanded because of some sort of abstract loy alty to the idea of marriage.
He could probably talk her out of it.
Then he had a wild impulse to ask her to marry him for real. Anything. Anything at all that would end up with him having her in his bed. And then he frowned, trying to remember why he'd come here in the first place.
The consortium. That was it. He needed her restaurant to join.
That motivation seemed an aeon away. All he wanted now was her body, her soul, her heart.
Her heart? He swallowed hard and rose to pace across the room. He was getting carried away. He'd never given up a thing before in order to get a woman when he wanted her. This was no time to set a precedent.
"Charity," he began, moving toward her.
Her head came up with a snap.
"No," she said firmly, her mouth set. "This is all wrong. It has been from the start. We can't pretend to be married. We can't try to fool Aunt Doris. She deserves better."
She rose, her spine stiff, her face deter mined.
"I'll call her in the morning, tell her the truth."