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silent beach house with its careless bachelor ambience and conspicuous lack of visitors: Dane Forrest, one of Hollywood’s most popular leading men and bon vivants, didn’t like having people around very much.
    Except me
, Margo thought firmly.
He likes me
.
    Sometimes it was still hard to believe it had all really happened—that it
was
happening. Almost exactly a year ago, Margo Sterling had been Margaret Frobisher, a starstruck schoolgirl on the other side of the mountain in Pasadena, sleeping with Dane Forrest’s picture over her bed. Now, every night, she was actually sleeping in his.
    And not just sleeping, either
. Margo and Dane had done things Margo was raised to believe she would only do once she was married—if then.
    Except for one thing. One very important thing.
    You could take the young lady out of the Orange Grove Academy it seemed, but you couldn’t quite take the Orange Grove Academy out of the young lady. At least, not all of it.
    God knows I want to
. After all, this was hedonistic Hollywood, not prudish Pasadena. Sex was just par for the course.
    Yet somehow, Margo just
couldn’t
. She’d try to relax, to let herself go, but some part of her would just clamp up, until the whole exercise seemed much more painful trouble than it was worth.
Funny
, she thought. Back when she thought Dane was in love with Diana Chesterfield, she would have done anything to make him happy, would have given herself to him in a heartbeat, no matter the cost. Now that she had him and wanted to keep him, something inside her just couldn’t … well, couldn’t
unclench
.
    But it would. It had to. Dane hadn’t gotten around to mentioning marriage yet, but surely it was just a matter of time. Even in Hollywood, you couldn’t just invite a girl to practically
live
with you for months and then
not
marry her. And as soon as he did—as soon as Margo knew she was
safe
—she’d open up just like a flower. “Remember, girls,” Miss Schoonmaker hadonce said during one particularly excruciating Poise and Presence class, “the ring is the key that unlocks the treasure chest.”
    Dane’s shoulders were bare. The new muscles hewn from weeks of roping cattle bulged beneath his smooth skin.
    Let’s just hope the ring comes very soon
, Margo thought.
    Dane groaned. “Margo, George gets up at the crack of dawn. Before, even. When it’s still dark.”
    “Maybe he stepped outside for a minute,” Margo suggested. “Or went to the bathroom. Or maybe he did answer the phone and he just didn’t put it through because he didn’t want to wake
us
up.”
    With another groan, Dane propped himself up against the headboard, the white bedsheet tangled around his bare chest like a Roman toga. Rolling his eyes at Margo, he reached for the house phone on the nightstand.
    “George,” he muttered into the receiver. “Yes, we’re awake.… Have there been any calls this morning?… Well, if there are, could you let us know right away? Poor Margie is practically eating her own skin off with nerves.”
    Margo winced inwardly. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite get used to the informality with which Dane spoke to the help. It was almost like he didn’t realize that George worked for
him
.
    “All right. Thank you, George.” Dane hung up. “He said he’ll put it straight through as soon as it comes. Feel better?”
    “Not really.”
    “Well.” Dane turned toward her, the exasperation in his face giving way to a naughty twinkle. “In that case, maybe we can think of some way to keep your mind off it.”
    “Oh, can we?”
    “Mmm. We’d better think about it very seriously. Very, very seriously indeed.”
    Giggling, Margo arched her back, pressing her body against his as she met his kiss. The long, lingering mornings in bed were really the best thing, the best part of being with Dane. Even if you couldn’t quite get rid of the voice that told you nice girls didn’t go all the way, there were still plenty of things you could