After Midnight by Diana Palmer

the more food you raise, the more the population grows. That increases the amount of food you have to raise to feed the increasing numbers of people! It’s a vicious circle.”
    â€œMy God, you talk like an economist,” he said.
    â€œWhy not? I studied it in college.”
    â€œWell, well.” He grinned at her. “What did you take your degree in?”
    â€œI didn’t finish,” she said sadly. “I dropped out after three and a half years, totally burned out. I’ll go back and finish one day, though. I only lack two semesters having enough units to graduate, with a major in history and a minor in sociology.”
    â€œGod help the world when you get out,” he murmured. “You could go into politics with a brain like yours.”
    She was flattered and amused, but she didn’t let him see the latter. He mustn’t know how wrapped up she already was in politics.
    â€œYou’re not bad yourself.”
    â€œI took my degree in business administration,” he said. “I did a double minor in economics and marketing.”
    â€œDo you work in business?” she asked with deliberate innocence.
    â€œYou might say so,” he said carelessly. “I’m in marketing.”
    â€œIt must be exciting.”
    â€œSometimes,” he dodged. He finished his coffee. “Do you like to walk on the beach?” he asked. “I enjoy it early in the morning and late in the afternoon. It helps me clear my mind so that I can think.”
    â€œMe, too,” she said.
    â€œKindred spirits,” he said almost to himself, and she smiled.
    He put the garbage in the receptacle and impulsively slid his hand into Nikki’s.
    It was the first deliberate physical contact between them, and sparks flew as his big, strong fingers linked sensuously between her slender ones. She felt their warm touch and tingles worked all the way down her body. She hadn’t felt that way in years. Not since Mosby…
    She caught her breath and looked up at him with something like panic in her green eyes.
    â€œWhat is it, Nikki?” he asked gently.
    His deep voice stirred her even more than the touch of his hand. She felt him, as if they were standing locked together. Her eyes looked into his and she could almost taste him.
    â€œNothing,” she choked after a minute. She pulled her fingers from his grasp firmly, but hesitantly. “Shall we go?”
    He watched her move off ahead of him, her hands suddenly in her pockets, the small fanny pack around her waist drooping over one rounded hip. She looked frightened. That was an odd sortof behavior from a woman who’d let him share her home for a night, he thought idly. She hadn’t been afraid of him then.
    She paused when he caught up with her, feeling guilty and not quite herself. She looked up at him with a rueful, embarrassed smile.
    â€œI don’t trust men, as a rule,” she confessed. “Most of them have one major objective when they start paying attention to a woman. I’ve never been accused of misleading anyone. That’s why I’m going to tell you right now, and up front, that I don’t sleep around, ever.”
    â€œAt least you’re honest,” he said as they continued to walk toward the beach.
    â€œAlways,” she assured him. “I find it’s the best policy.”
    â€œDo you sleep with the man who owns the beach house?”
    â€œWhat I do with him is none of your business,” she said simply.
    â€œFair enough.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at her while they strolled along the white sand. Whitecaps rolled, foaming onto the nearby shore, and above head the seagulls danced on the wind with black-tipped white wings spread to the sun.
    â€œYou’re very big,” she remarked.
    He chuckled. “Tall. Not big.”
    â€œYou are,” she argued. “I’m five foot five and you tower over