"You are a very sweet man," said Mandy to Howie, as they walked around the hall, gathering cups and napkins and dumping them into a large plastic garbage can on wheels. Howie ducked his head in embarrassment. "I mean it," said Mandy. "You made a lot of girls happy tonight. And you didn't have to. You could've spent the whole night..." She nodded over at Natalie, who was folding the tablecloth at the refreshment table.

"Actually, it was her idea," said Howie, thinking that if he'd spent the whole night with Natalie in his arms, they would not have remained vertical for long. "She's good people," he added.

"I know," said Mandy with a grin. Then she leaned in close to Howie and said softly, "She told me to pounce on Ty."

Howie laughed and then looked at the earnest face. Mandy was biting her lower lip.

"Do you think I should?"

Howie didn't really know how to answer that. "Well, from an outsider's point of view...I mean, I don't know what you do in Montana...but it's obvious that you're attracted to each other..."

"Yes," she sighed, "but pouncing...I don't know..."

Howie shrugged. "What have you got to lose? Figure that out first. And then go for it!"

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

Howie chuckled to himself as he shut off the car. Natalie raised her eyebrows at him.

"You told Mandy to pounce on Ty."

"Yes, I did," laughed Natalie. "Do you think she will?"

"Oh, I'd say Mr. Harper's days as a single man are numbered," he replied. He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Natalie. But she was already out and halfway to the door.

Natalie opened the door to the cabin. She wanted to run straight to her bedroom and close the door behind her. Well, actually what she wanted to do was strip every piece of clothing from his body and touch him all over. But hiding in the bedroom seemed like a better idea.

She set down her purse and started fussing with things, straightening items on the kitchen counter that were already straight. She moved the magnet on the fridge a fraction of an inch and then moved it back again. She looked up to see Howie advancing slowly and deliberately toward her. No! she told herself. Don't!

She had sat on her hands on the drive home, saying nothing. In fact, she had said very little to anyone at all after dancing with Howie. She had continued moving from group to group, but now all she did was listen. Shelley the Librarian had mentioned to a few people that Natalie might be using Big Timber as the setting for her next book and people had lots of stories to tell. They were good stories too! Natalie wished she had a tape recorder with her because she knew she wouldn't remember them all. The state her mind was in right now, she'd be lucky to remember her own name.

Howie had reached her. She had backed away from him until she was up against the fridge and could retreat no further. He ran his fingers down her jawline and put his mouth on hers. He kissed her tenderly and it melted every part of her. She put a hand on his arm and this encouraged him. He ran his tongue along her lips and she began to open her mouth. No! She could not let him in. She could not!

She moved her head sideways away from him. "I don't want you..." She didn't know how to finish the sentence. He thought she had.

He backed away from her. How had he misread the signals? What about the hand holding? What about the dance? He looked at her face and realized that he hadn't misread them at all. She wanted him too.

"Natalie," he said softly. He put his hand on her arm.

"No! I can't," she wailed, pushing past him and moving to her bedroom door.

"Why can't you?" asked Howie. "Is it because of the guy, the married one?"

Natalie turned pained eyes on him. She nodded.

"You're still in love with him," said Howie, matter-of-factly.

"No, no I'm not," said Natalie firmly. "But I'm not over...'it'. I haven't reached the healing stage...the indifference. I'm stuck at angry." She paused for a moment. "I hate men," she finished vehemently.

"So you're going to hate all men forever just because one guy was a prick to you?" This evening was not ending at all the way Howie imagined it would and he was feeling frustrated.

"No, not forever...but for now," she answered slowly.

"You don't hate me," said Howie. "You want me. I want you. Why are you fighting that?"

Natalie didn't answer him.

He never knew where he stood with this woman. Why was he even bothering? "This is stupid," he said, half to himself.

"Don't call me stupid," she screamed at him, and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"I didn't..." began Howie and then stopped as the door slammed. I didn't call you 'stupid, thought Howie. I said, this is stupid. Why was that such a hot button for her, he wondered. She was obviously not stupid. Crazy, maybe.

He sighed. This day had been perfect. The dance had been fun, even with the little Backstreet moment. And he had been reasonably certain he would end the evening making sweet, sweet love with Ms. Natalie Reardon. But on the way home, she'd said nothing. He'd made a few little attempts at conversation, but then gave up. So it was not to be, he guessed. He went around the room, straightening cushions and turning off lights, hoping the bedroom door would open or that he would hear crying and he could rush in to comfort her. But there was only silence.

He went to bed and read for a few minutes, but his head wasn't into it, so he set it aside. He tossed and turned and finally fell asleep.

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

Howie's eyes opened. Something had wakened him. He blinked his eyes twice to focus them. Natalie was standing beside his bed, silhouetted in the moonlight coming through the doorway. He couldn't see her face.

"Natalie?" he whispered. She didn't respond. "Natalie, are you okay?"

The tiniest whimper came from her. At least, he thought he heard one. He wasn't sure. She put her hand on the bed, plucking at the bedspread. Howie lifted the blankets and she crawled in beside him. She lay on her back with her hands folded over her chest like a corpse. What the...? Howie let the sheet fall on them. He lay on his side with his head resting on his hand watching her. He waited and then slowly and tentatively, he touched her arm. She started to tremble. He moved closer. "Natalie?" She said nothing, but turned on her side away from him and curled up into a ball. He continued stroking her arm gently, whispering calming words. She didn't move or speak, but the trembling lessened and then stopped.

Howie couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. He didn't even know if she was really there or if he was dreaming. He moved up behind her and kissed her softly on her shoulder. She responded by arching her neck. Moving away or offering more territory? She was wearing a tank top with the thinnest of straps - strings really. He tried to remember what she usually wore for a pyjama top - a t-shirt, he thought.

He kissed her neck and played with the string. He was becoming aroused. He shifted his hips back away from her. She pressed back against him. Okay, what now? He kissed her shoulder and moved the string down her arm. He reached in front of her and ran his fingers along the neckline of her top. Still nothing from her.

He moved his hand down over her breast, cupping it, squeezing it gently. He ran his thumb over her nipple and could feel it harden under the thin fabric. He put his fingers in his mouth and licked them. Then he slid them under her shirt and gently rolled her nipple back and forth in his wet fingers. She turned her face into the pillow and he thought she moaned, but he wasn't sure. He hesitated, stilling his fingers, but leaving them where they were. After a minute, he removed them.

The next move was up to her. I'm not going to touch her again, he decided. Not until she asks me to. He didn't know if she was awake or asleep. He didn't know if she even knew she was there. He wasn't going to take advantage of an unconscious woman, that was for damned sure! Especially one who had informed him so clearly the night before that she didn't want him. He laid his head back on the pillow. Then what the hell was she doing here? Should he wake her up and ask her?

No, I'll just hold her, he decided, spooning his body around hers and willing his erection to subside. I won't make a move. Even though she came to me. Maybe. It doesn't matter, he thought. We'll figure it out in the morning. She was there. That was all that was important. She was there.