Clarice turned around and her breath caught in her throat. She'd never met a man that could wear clothes the way he could. The way they hung on his lean body should be against the law.

His taupe linen trousers were fashionably baggy with a draw string tie, as was the cream colored silk T-shirt. He was barefoot, and his long hair was wet, and combed straight back from his face. He looked exotic and dangerous, and sexy as hell.

She breathed in his cologne deeply. God, he always smelled so good. "You had some eggs, and cheese, so I made us omelets. I hope that's okay?"

"Absolutely. I'm starving." He gazed at her intently. "You know, don't feel like you have to cook for me Clarice," he remarked with a slight smile. He pulled out a chair and eased himself into it. His tiger-eyes tracked her every move as she nervously dished up two plates and set them on the table.

He stood up and pulled out her chair for her. Clarice sank down swallowing hard. A long, damp strand of his incredible hair brushed against her cheek. Her appetite fled as butterflies the size of fighter jets zoomed around her stomach. Having him this close to her in the silent house was intoxicating. He sat down and stared at her enigmatically.

"I don't feel that way. It…it was my pleasure. I enjoyed it," she stammered.

He shrugged a little. "Okay."

He picked up a fork and began eating. He ate quickly, and in a matter of minutes his plate was scraped clean. She watched in amazement. She barely took two bites, and he was already patting his mouth with the napkin, and dropping it next to his plate.

He looked at her. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Yes! I…are you still hungry?"

He thought about it for a minute. "No."

He continued to stare at her, it was extremely unnerving. He had his forefinger underneath his chin and was rubbing his goatee absently. Clarice set her fork down. "I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," she murmured. She set her hands on her lap and twisted them together.

The silence stretched on unbearably. The tension was turned up another couple of notches. He looked like a coiled spring. Why did she get the feeling he'd jump out of his chair if she made a sudden move? His amber gaze was steady and unwavering, like he was trying to puzzle something out in his head.

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. "I'm going into the living room. I'm beat," he said abruptly. "Leave the dishes, I'll take care of them later. The food was delicious." He scraped his chair back and left the room without a backward glance.

Her breath left her body in one sudden whoosh. He was so complicated. Would she ever be able to figure him out? She automatically began clearing the dishes. What else was she going to do? She was apprehensive, scared, and excited at the same time. The mere thought of him set her heart racing. God, she wanted him so badly. Should she make the first move? What if he thought she was easy? The only thing she did know was that there was no way she could spend any prolonged amount of time with him, without putting her hands on him. She was hot-blooded and passionate. Her heart beat rapidly.

Tonight.

Tonight she'd make a move.

She quietly walked into the living room. A fire was blazing in the fireplace, casting a golden glow over the room. Heavy, black rain clouds now obscured the sun, which briefly was out. She heard thunder growl in the distance. A storm was coming.

Todd was stretched out on the sofa, apparently asleep. She carefully removed her shoes and tiptoed over to him.

She knelt down and looked at him. His face was so beautiful in repose. The silky fans of his lashes brushed his against his cheeks innocently. His full mouth was softened and slightly apart. God, she thought in wonder. His chestnut hair was shimmering with golden highlights from the fire. It was spread out like the most beautiful of gossamer.

She lightly ran her knuckle down the brown silk, trembling with desire.

It was too much. She gently and ever so delicately leaned down. She held her breath as she lightly kissed his lips, then his scar, running her tongue lovingly over it. Breathing softly over his face as she rained kisses over his lips, cheeks, eyebrows, and lids.

Pete was awake and alert. He knew the second she entered the room. He had his eyes closed and was laying perfectly still, thrilling at every kiss, the softness of her sweet tongue. It took every ounce of self-control that he had, not to pick her up and carry her to his bed, and make love to her all night long.

He didn't want to spoil this for her. Or embarrass her in any way. He prayed she wouldn't notice his erection. It was agony, and he never wanted it to end.

Never.

He came to a shocking realization. He was completely and utterly in love. For the very first time in his life. He loved her and would die for her in an instant. All he'd ever known in his life was rage and hatred. He knew the horrible things he had done. He raped, lied, stole, and destroyed.

But, now the hate he carried around was shrinking, and in its place was an all consuming love for this woman. He made a vow right then and there. He would protect her to the end. No one, not Manning. Not anyone would ever hurt her. Or they'd have him to deal with.

Clarice sat back against her heels. She gently laid her head on his chest with her hand low on his stomach. She curled her legs under her and closed her eyes.

Pete barley breathed and waited until she was sleeping. He smiled softly and ran his fingers through her hair, resting his long fingers against the delicate flesh of her neck. "I love you," he whispered passionately. Tears slid down his face and collected in his ears with a soft plop.

Todd slowly fell into a deep sleep and for the first time in years had no nightmares.

Outside it began to rain violently. Peter Manning stared at the beautiful house with hatred and evil coursing through him like a poisonous virus. He was putting his plan into motion. Let them have tonight. It would make it all the better. Because tomorrow he was going to destroy Todd right down to his soul.

And kill his lady love.

Peace and Love,

VTW