"I'm talking about a long, maybe an endless tunnel. A corridor that seems to stretch forward and backward into infinity. If there is such a thing as infinity," he added thoughtfully. "Personally, I'm not so sure there is. At least not on the continuum that links time and space. Maybe there are other continuums that are truly infinite. Or maybe each universe is finite but the potential for the creation of universes is infinite. Or maybe time isn't on a continuum at all. Maybe it's more like a foggy sea surrounding us. Or there could be millions of time continuums all existing simultaneously. ..."

"Jonas, you're losing me rapidly," Verity said with a quiet desperation.

"No, I'm not. You told me yourself you had an excellent education. You just don't want to hear what I'm going to say. But you're going to listen, Verity." The ancient gold of his eyes burned for an instant.

"There's not much else you can do. After all, like it or not, you're trapped in this car with a crazy man who just happens to be your lover."

Verity flinched. His sardonic remark was far too close to what she had been thinking earlier that morning as she descended the steel staircase. If Jonas was getting to know her well enough to second-guess her thoughts, she was in real trouble. "I never said you were crazy and two nights of sex does not automatically make you my lover. At this point you don't qualify as anything more than an occasional bed partner."

"Your only occasional bed partner." His long fingers tightened on the wheel. "Tell me something, Verity.

Are you using me?"

"Using you! What a thing to say! If anyone's using someone in this relationship of ours, it's you."

"I'm not so sure about that. I've been wondering why, after twenty-eight years of sleeping alone, you suddenly decided to let me into your bed."

"I didn't exactly let you into bed," she pointed out carefully. "You sort of muscled your way in."

"Bullshit. You let me in. You wanted me there. Don't you dare imply there was any rape involved, Verity Ames, or so help me, I'll turn you over my knee."

"Threats now, Jonas?" she asked in taunting, liquid tones.

"You bet your sweet little ass. Now answer my question. Are you using me? I have a right to know just what the basis of this relationship is."

His arrogance was breathtaking. "Don't be absurd. How would I be using you?"

"As an experiment," he said succinctly.

"An experiment!"

"Sure. I've been the subject of enough experiments in my life to know a setup when I see one. It makes a nasty kind of sense. After all, you're looking at thirty on the horizon and there's no relationship in sight.

Hell, there's not even a man in sight for a weekend fling. You were a little too picky for a little too long, I guess. Either that or you flayed every man in sight with that sharp tongue. Whatever the reason, you find yourself alone facing spinsterhood. You're a naturally passionate woman who's denied herself an outlet for her sensual needs for too long. You begin to wonder if you'll ever experience sex or have a genuine affair. It's only natural that you might be getting desperate as you see an important aspect of life passing you by."

Verity was incensed. Her hands closed into small fists. "I am not desperate. I may be picky but I am not desperate."

"What woman wouldn't be desperate in your situation?"

"You egotistical, chauvinistic bastard!"

"I'm just trying to get at the truth. I want to know if you decided to experiment with me. I want to know if you're using me to get a taste of what you've been missing all these years. After all, I'm convenient, there's an attraction between us, and I'm willing. What's more, the relationship probably feels safe to you because you think that ultimately you're in control of it. Hell, I work for you. How much more in control could you get? You can always fire me if I start boring you in bed.

"My lady thinks she will command the dance

She calls the tune and dictates every measure.

I tread the steps, ensnared with every beat,

While she sips the rich dark wine of pleasure."

Verity wrinkled her nose. "Another rough translation of some Renaissance poem?"

"Yeah. Some courtier's humble ode to his beloved who kept him dancing on the end of her string.

Translating poetry is not my forte, but you get the point. I'm like the poor courtier who ended up dancing to his beloved's tune."

"Somehow, I don't see you playing the humble courtier, Jonas. If you do occasionally, it's for your own purposes. If we're going to use Renaissance imagery, I would have to say you're more of a condottiere who's busy with his own schemes and plans while he pretends to be working for a client."

Jonas's mouth tightened."You haven't answered my question."

"About whether I'm using you? Experimenting on you? Never mind. It will give you something to think about while I'm wondering why I'm allowing a crazy man to continue washing dishes for me."

There was a frozen silence from the other side of the car and then Jonas asked in a too-neutral voice,

"Do you really think I'm off my rocker?"

Verity caught her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed painfully for a moment. "No," she said finally, thinking of what she had seen in his golden eyes.

She had seen humor in that gaze as well as intelligence, passion, and anger. She had never seen anything that made her wonder if he was mentally unstable. She had never sensed anything in him that made her think he was dangerously out of control.

"Thanks for that much, at any rate."

"Tell me about this... this corridor," she ordered tightly.

His expression gentled as he looked at her. Jonas took one hand off the wheel long enough to squeeze her clenched fingers. His touch was warm and comforting. "Don't be afraid, honey. Whenever you're in the corridor, I'll be there with you. What can scare the living hell out of someone is finding himself alone there, not knowing what's ahead or behind."

Verity looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "You see yourself in a corridor whenever you go into one of your trances or whatever you call the condition you were in last night?"

Jonas nodded once. "A long, dark tunnel, like a tube that connects the past and the present. I didn't know if, when you joined me there, you would see the same thing, but apparently you do. That should help, Verity. It gives us a point of reference. The experience is similar enough for both of us that we should be able to share certain aspects of it."

Verity searched frantically for some logical explanation. "Maybe you're telepathic or something. Maybe that corridor is a construction you've invented in your own mind and you can somehow make me see it, too. Maybe this has nothing to do with psychometry."