"No ma'am, I won't." The touch of her fingers held his mind and seared his skin like a branding iron. "I know you won't. Now scoot. I have things to do before you get that drink." Luke turned and raced down the hall to his bedroom, propelled by a sense of urgency he could neither explain nor resist. He showered in five minutes and dried himself in less, pausing only to lay his fingers on his arm where Jackie had touched him in an effort to recall that moment and the wild sensations he had felt. He was about to leave the bath when he ran his palm across his cheek and felt a two-day growth of beard. He shaved with quick, hurried strokes, and then brushed his teeth. He raked his fingers through his hair, then reached for his aftershave. Two sprays for his face, two for his chest, and then, on a prescient whim, he pumped the atomizer twice and misted his groin. He threw on his robe and tying the belt as he went, dashed downstairs toward the den.

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