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the gesture. She pulled back, but he held firm. He kissed her hand and found himself wanting to extend the gentle caress to her lips. For one long moment they stared into each other’s eyes, then he tugged at her hand, wanting her closer.

Chapter Two
    Someone knocked on the front door.
    Talia jerked back, looking as if she’d touched a snake. “That must be the committee members. I’ll let them in.”
    Trace watched her bolt from the kitchen, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. A man could incur some heavy losses under that kind of woman’s influence, he decided. Loss of perspective. Loss of sleep. Loss of sanity.
    His body was still tense with the excitement of merely being close to her, kissing her hand and touching her silky legs. He remembered how her eyes had grown soft and vulnerable. Odd, he mused. It was almost as if she’d forgotten who he was.
    Then she’d turned to ice.
    Talia swung open the door and greeted the committee members as if they were the cavalry coming to her rescue. Accompanied by the two middle-aged men and one woman, she walked back into the kitchen and made the introductions. Lou Adkins, Opal Taylor, and Darryl Harris, one of the vice presidents at the local bank.
    Since the three arrivals wore expressions varying from surprise to distrust, Talia supposed Trace would have his hands full winning them over. It would be interesting to watch. And she was relieved to have his attention directed away from herself.
    â€œI’m going to check on the brownies,” she said. “You can go into the den.”
    After the others left, she set the brownies on the counter to cool, poured the coffee and set the cups on a tray. Untenable though it may be, she knew she was drawn to Trace. But, as easily as she accepted her curiosity about him, she knew she wouldn’t do a thing about it.
    She picked up the tray. Her shaking hands caused the cups to clatter noisily, and she uttered a mild curse. How was she supposed to be calm and collected with Trace Barringer in her house?
    She didn’t want his attention, she reminded herself as she walked into the living room. She wanted his donation.
    The meeting progressed as the group mapped out more plans for Lung Awareness Month. Though she tried to concentrate on each word, Talia found her gaze repeatedly drawn to Trace. Although he sat relaxed and quiet, she’d bet he could recite every detail of the discussion.
    Watching his deliberate examination of her living room, she wondered what conclusions he was making. What did he think of the oak end tables her father had made before he died? The homey green sofa and slightly lumpy chairs? Did he recognize Kevin from the picture on the wall? Could he possibly know the porcelain bunny collection on the second shelf of the bookcase was one of her weaknesses? And why did she feel he’d gained too much knowledge of her just from his perusal of the room?
    His gaze slid from the bunnies to her eyes, and she wondered, inanely, if he could read her mind. Then he was studying the little mole above the right corner of her mouth. She had to purse her lips to resist the urge to run her tongue over the mark.
    Flustered by his quiet, invasive attention, she forced her eyes away from him.
    When Trace finally spoke, he offered his opinions and suggestions with utter politeness. “Since you have a dual goal of raising both awareness and funds, it sounds as if you’ve got a good start. I’d like some posters for the mill, Lou, if you could manage that.” Lou nodded, and Trace continued without missing a beat. “The mill could sponsor an event. Perhaps a bowling tournament or a night at the roller-skating rink. And I think you could increase your donations significantly if you generated some interest from the country club.”
    They all stared at him. That last suggestion had the impact of a small bomb, because none was a member of the country club.
    The silence was unnerving.