A man fighting his past. A woman fleeing hers.

When Fate throws them together they form an unlikely-and temporary-alliance. Soon real passion infuses their fake marriage and they begin to dream of more.

But someone has other plans. Someone who would rather see them dead than happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm going to kiss you." He brushed her hair from her cheek and leaned close. She could see the pulse beating at his throat and feel the heat of his skin. He must have read her mind. His head dipped close, blocking out the light from the fire and blurring his features. She backed up against the cold glass and a shiver ran up her spine. Suddenly the closeness suffocated her and black, helpless panic loomed.

"No."

"Don't tell me no unless you mean it." The voice was calm, gentle. Burton's voice. She latched onto the sound of it. Burton's voice. Burton's hand. "Do you mean it, Amanda?"

"No."

"No, you don't mean it?"

"Yes. I don't mean it. I want¡­."

His lips touched hers, soft, gentle. His hand threaded through her hair, a caress, not a grip of possession. A bit of her reserve thawed under its warmth and she gave herself up to the kiss.

The tangy scent of pine still clung to him and with the cold glass at her back she might have been reliving the kiss in the snow, except now, as he slowly molded her body to his she went gladly.

Her hands moved to his waist and slipped inside the open shirt. The solid, smooth warmth of his skin was reassuring beneath her fingertips.

He nipped at her lower lip then slid his tongue across it, inviting her to deepen the kiss, without forcing. The next time he offered the temptation, she yielded to it, opening to let him taste her. And instead of relief, she found more temptation. The temptation to draw him deeper inside, the temptation to explore him in the same slow way he explored her. The temptation to forget the past, the future, and everything except this moment.