Elusive Dawn by Kay Hooper

soft statement made her thudding heart skip a beat. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, her eyes searching his face as though it held the secrets of the universe. Still he refused to look at her. When he went on, his voice had deepened, hoarsened.
    "I've tried to keep my hands off you all morning and haven't succeeded worth a damn. I have to touch you, Robyn. The same way I have to breathe. Don't hate me for that."
    "I don't hate you, Shane."
    He looked up at last as she whispered the denial, and his hands closed convulsively around hers with a gentle, savage strength. His eyes were nearly black. "Don't look at me like that, dammit ," he swore softly. "Even when you don't mean to, you look at me with bedroom eyes!"
    "Who says I don't mean to?" she managed shakily.
    His eyes flared with emerald fire, and he released her hands to cradle her face with his large palms. "Honey, you don't know what you're saying. We're supposed to be getting to know each other as friends."
    "I know." She reached up to grasp his wrists, suddenly understanding his statement about needing to touch her. She needed to touch him, desperately, almost painfully. It was like a hunger eating away at her soul. Bewildered by the strength of that need, the throbbing emptiness inside her, she pleaded huskily, "Please don't think I'm a tramp, Shane! I-I need you to touch me, I want you to! I can't help it..."
    He abruptly rose on his knees, releasing her face to pull her up against his body, wrapping his arms around her firmly. "Of course I don't think you're a tramp!" he scolded unevenly. "You're confused, honey; everything's happened too fast. I just want you to be very, very sure of what you feel."
    She intuitively sensed he was holding something back. What were the words he didn't speak, she wondered dimly, slipping her arms around his lean waist with a need beyond reason. Was he afraid that she still saw him as a replacement for Brian? Was he still thinking of another man's ghost?
    Shane drew back far enough to gaze down at her face, his own very serious. "I want nothing less than a commitment from you, Robyn, and I don't think you're ready for that yet."
    Unbidden, she thought of his racing, and a stab of fear shot through her. The fear must have been reflected in her eyes, and Shane obviously misinterpreted what he saw there.
    He drew away suddenly, getting to his feet. "You see?" He smiled reassuringly, softening the blow of his taut voice. "You're scared to death of committing yourself to me, honey. You aren't ready for that yet."
    Robyn wanted to voice another denial, but she couldn't work up the courage. Then the moment had passed, and it was too late.
    "Give me a hand, and we'll get underway," he was saying lightly. "I'd like to reach Key Largo this afternoon."
    Clamping a lid over the turmoil of her emotions, Robyn silently set about helping him to get the boat underway. Once they were skimming over the blue-green sea again, she left Shane at the wheel, gathered up the remains of their lunch, and went below.
    She put everything in its place and then went into her cabin, emptied her duffel bag on the bottom bunk, and began putting her things away in one of the chests. The other chest, she noted, held Shane's clothing.
    She resisted an impulse to run her fingers through his things, telling herself firmly not to be an idiot.
    And then, unable to delay the moment any longer, she changed into a pair of cut-off jeans and a very brief halter top and went back up on deck-to the man who would or would not become her future.
    Shane was standing behind the wheel. He watched her until she sat down on the padded bench, a lambent flame flickering for a moment in the depths of his eyes. Then he was paying attention to their course again.
    "Have you ever seen the living coral reef off Key Largo?" he asked casually.
    Robyn drew one foot up on the bench and hugged her knee, watching him. "No. Will we see it?"
    "If we get there in time today, we can tie up