In a hoarse whisper, she breathed, “I’ve got to know.”

His eyes narrowed into a blur of gray curiosity. “Know?”

“What it’s like. Making love with you.”

He stepped back. “I…uh, where did that come from?”

She removed her hand from his arm. “Left field, I guess.”

He eyed her, probably to figure out how to rebuff her advances gently. But she’d put herself so far out there that anything he said or did other than drag her off to bed would be a rejection. Why had she set herself up like this?

Finally, he said, “That’s quite an offer.”

Was he considering or stalling for time? If he was the least bit interested, she had to push him over the brink. As if she’d always known what she had to do next, she moved into him, pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Out of pure improvisation, she added tongue.

Ned willingly participated, slid his tongue along hers, augmented her moves as they went. Suddenly, he pulled back, “You sure about this?”

One last chance to change her mind. “Yes, I’m sure. But what about you? You’ve accused me of running away from confrontations. Said I wasn’t tough enough to tango. I’m ready to prove you wrong.”

He took her hand in his, rubbed his thumb against her palm. “Okay, then. Let the dance begin.”