“Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a roller coaster.”

Devon couldn’t imagine someone depriving themselves of the experience.

Jenny shook her head. “Never.”

He’d gladly share his take on the ride. This was one woman he planned to convert. He leaned forward. Closer. Firmly into her personal space.

“It’s an adrenaline rush.” The kind he sought out whenever possible. “A slow build that climbs with anticipation until you can barely hold still for what’s going to happen next. Then a heart-flipping moment where you feel like you’re going to fall over the biggest ledge of your life and your whole nervous system goes ballistic with erratic impulses. You can’t breathe. You can only scream and hold on for dear life.”

Unable to resist the lure of her hazel eyes hanging on his every word, he reached out to stroke a finger down her soft cheek.

In a breathless voice she said, “Sort of like sex.”

Dear Reader,

THE WRONG BED is a favorite ongoing miniseries from long before I started writing romance. I loved reading books with this fun and sexy premise and was thrilled when my first attempt to write my own proved to be a bestselling Harlequin Temptation novel. Now that the miniseries has moved to Harlequin Blaze, the creative options for this steamy miniseries have multiplied and it is with great pleasure that I bring you my first WRONG BED Blaze novel.

When Jenny Moore sends an e-mail containing a distinct proposition for sex to the wrong man’s inbox, she finds herself undressed with a captivating stranger. A good girl would probably clear up the misunderstanding and call it a night, but Jenny has played it safe for far too long. Besides, she soon discovers she’s not the only one in the mood for bedroom games.

All the fun, twice the sizzle…welcome to THE WRONG BED in Harlequin Blaze!

Happy reading,

Joanne Rock

Up All Night
Joanne Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Heather Beaufait, Amelia Hernandez and all the readers on my BlazingFans loop who encourage and support me. Thank you so much for your willingness to always talk about romance, to answer spur-of-the-moment crazy questions that help me with my works-in-progress, and for being a part of my life!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

1

“I DON’T THINK we should see each other anymore.”

Jenny Moore blinked through her first date nervousness to stare at the heartbreak hero who’d made the unexpected pronouncement. The clank of bar glasses and buzz of a hundred conversations faded in the face of her abject mortification in a back booth of an Atlantic City nightspot. Surely she’d misunderstood him.

“Our drinks haven’t even made it to the table yet and you’re breaking up with me?” Jenny knew she wasn’t every man’s fantasy date, but she’d done everything right with this executive of a Jersey engineering firm she’d met online a few weeks ago. She’d gotten to know him through an Internet dating service first. Exchanged e-mails through the private addresses supplied by the company. Tonight she’d been careful to play it cool with him even though she battled a few personal phobias about being out in public. Meeting David Brady in person was half the reason she’d come to the conference in Atlantic City—a city she’d never liked in the first place, even if she didn’t suffer from mild agoraphobia that made it tough to leave her apartment under any normal circumstances.

Today was fast becoming far from normal.

“I’m sorry, Jen, but I just don’t think I can take things as slow as you’d like me to.” He gave her a lopsided grin that might have been endearing if she hadn’t wanted to box his ears for not giving her a chance to jump his bones—loser or not. “I just think we need to be open and honest with each other about our expectations, don’t you?”

In an e-mail, she could have handled that question. She’d built up a million-dollar empire selling luxury goods online through De-Luxe, her successful brainchild run from the isolated safety of her home office. But now, face-to-face with a man in a situation that made her nervous to begin with, she was more likely to break out in hives than form an intelligent response.

“H-honesty?” Her breath caught in her throat while she tried to ward off a bout of hyperventilation sure to come if this man—a man who’d finally seemed like her chance for intimacy—truly dumped her in the retro lobby bar of Quintessence Hotel and Casino ten minutes after their first live meet.

She’d never been a fan of dating, but this encounter was off the charts in the hideous department.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I’ve had a great time e-mailing with you the past few weeks.” The object of her online affection rose from the table and snagged a pen off the nearby bar, dodging the flirtatious waitress who brought Jenny’s drink—a pink halo—and his double shot of scotch. He passed the server a twenty with a wink and proceeded to scribble on a turquoise-colored cocktail napkin with his pilfered pen, a fat ruby winking on what looked like a university ring around his finger. “I closed my e-mail account with the dating service, but feel free to contact me at this address if De-Luxe ever gets in those platinum nameplates we talked about. Gotta be the first in town to have one for my desk.”

With a quick kiss to her cheek, David grabbed his drink and sailed out of the bar, taking his khaki-clad cute butt and her only opportunity to score this weekend—maybe this whole flipping year—along with him.

Damn it.

Jenny couldn’t even look at the fizzy pink halo she’d ordered when she first sat down. Her drink order had been an optimistic choice. How much more upbeat could you get than pink and fizzy? David’s retreat had put her in more of a Bloody Mary mood.

“Can I get you anything else?” The busty waitress with long, dark hair peered down at Jenny’s untouched cocktail once she finally yanked her gaze off of Jenny’s departing date.

Thank God the server was a woman, even if the dishy chick had flirted outrageously with David when she’d taken their order. In general, Jenny did better face-to-face with strange women. Strange men were normally more intimidating. But between the online photo of David and their exchanged e-mails, she’d actually thought she had a chance of making it through a dinner with him. Possibly more.

“My friend’s a doctor and he just got called away,” Jenny lied in a face-saving effort, embarrassed to her toes to have a bar server feeling sorry for her. “I guess I’ll just head back to my room.”

Scooping up the napkin with David’s e-mail address, Jenny rose from the table and headed for the elevator, her silky skirt that felt so sexy against her legs an hour ago now reminding her with each swish what a failure the night had been. She would not let herself contact a man who wasn’t even patient enough to sit through drinks with her, so she didn’t know why she clutched the stupid napkin in a death grip.

“Loser.” Punching the elevator button, she told herself she would simply enjoy the conference from a self-help guru who’d written a series of books on nurturing mental help through alternative therapies that she was attending this week. She’d even been chosen to participate in a special forum with a research group compiling data on agoraphobics, so she could help along other people with issues similar to hers.

Although, it would have been nice to have indulged in some sensual therapy in addition to the mental coping strategies offered at the conference. Jenny had made an art form out of finding all her life needs online, but there were still a couple of crucial ones that couldn’t be procured on the Internet.

A real relationship, for one.

Real sex for another.

Staring blankly at an ad for the hotel’s boardwalk casino, she smoothed out the napkin with David’s address as the elevator button chimed for her floor. He had said he was concerned about how slowly she’d wanted to take things. But surely that was a reaction to the fact that she’d confided her privacy issues with him via e-mail before they met in person. Maybe he’d just assumed she would want to move slowly after they met since she’d taken plenty of time to get to know him first.

And if that’s what he thought, didn’t she owe it to herself to clarify his mistake?

Loser or not, Dave Brady was a known quantity and Jenny wouldn’t let this prime candidate for a fling slip away without exerting a little more effort. She needed a transition man while she worked her way up to a real relationship, and Dave had “temporary” written all over him.

Hot and lonesome and tired of worrying about her problems, Jenny unlocked her room and headed straight for her laptop on the king-size bed at the back of the suite. David might not be the most suave of guys, but he was a damn sight more fine than the men in her limited experience.

db@shoreengineers was about to find out how quickly she could move when it came to scratching a sexual itch.

DEVON BAINES loosened his tie as he slammed the hotel door behind him. Conferences sucked. Not because he didn’t enjoy engineering. On the contrary, the workshops kicked ass and the chance to school the new kids about real-world projects was a guaranteed good time. But the bs networking which amounted to listening to a bunch of long-winded geeks sing their own praises…

Granted, he had low tolerance for people in general. An even lower tolerance for people who talked a big game and didn’t have the smarts to back it up. Thank God he’d brought his laptop so he could escape the social pressures of conference hell for a few hours. Cracking open the computer, he flexed his fingers and clicked the keys that would connect him to his message box.

His watch said it was just past midnight as he slid into one of the Lucite chairs at the ultramodern wet bar just off the kitchen of his suite. Spotting the round of new e-mails, he scrolled over the mundane reminders from various project managers about inhouse responsibilities and a couple of notes from friends in the industry that probably contained good luck sentiments or possible job offers. Instead, his gaze lingered on an unfamiliar address, a personal note that didn’t suggest he’d won a foreign lottery or that he needed Viagra.

As if.

The note from “deluxegirl” read:

I didn’t know what to say to you in the lobby bar tonight, but I came to the conference this week just to meet you in person. I’m not a woman who takes things slowly. When I see something I want, I go after it.

And I want you. Naked, hot and ready for me.

I’m in room 1016 if you’re interested in seeing where things lead tonight.

Jenny

Devon stared at the note, wondering who the hell Jenny could be. An engineering colleague from another firm? Obviously, the message writer was staying here at Quintessence so it made sense she’d be connected to the business if she was here for the conference. The time on the note read 11:55 p.m., shortly before he’d left the party full of windbags downstairs. He’d been in the fifties-style lobby bar a handful of times that night, mostly because the lines were shorter there than inside the welcome reception and he’d bought drinks for some friends he hoped to do business with as a freelance consultant.

Finger hovering over the delete key, Devon tapped lightly on the button without actually pressing. He shouldn’t be interested in some sordid interlude with a woman he might possibly cross paths with again in his profession.

And yet…

How long had it been since he’d lost himself in sweaty, all-night sex? For a man who appreciated every nuance of amusement park rides in his gig as a mechanical engineer, he sure did deprive himself of the best thrill on earth.

Lifting his hand away from the keyboard, he left the message intact but flipped down the screen. As if that would keep him from thinking about the mystery invitation and the potential adventure waiting one floor above him.

Suddenly thirsty, he unbuttoned his pinstriped shirt as he headed for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water at the black marble sink with slightly gaudy—but probably pricey—gold fixtures. He didn’t need this kind of temptation with his whole future career teetering on his personal reputation. But he never indulged himself, damn it. Why should he say no now when a primo opportunity landed in his lap?

Here was an open invitation that had cost him zero effort when he’d never sleep tonight anyway.

Downing the rest of the water, he buttoned his shirt back up except for the top one and left his tie on the counter. He could at least see who was behind the mystery e-mail. What would it hurt to have a look at Jenny to see if she was as tempting in person as her words had been in her note? After the last few months of having the rug pulled out from under him professionally, Devon figured he deserved to indulge a few pleasures wherever he could find them.

Picking up his room key, he stepped out into the hallway, liking this idea the longer he thought about it. His feet carried him to the luxury spa that served the hotel’s suite guests where he’d seen a condom machine earlier in the day. He’d made time for a workout to sweat off three months worth of aggression toward Dave Brady, the ass-kissing nimrod who’d taken over Shore Engineers. Devon had never considered sex as an outlet for frustration, but he had to admit it sounded a lot more fun than mind-numbing reps with free weights.

Scooping up a handful of prophylactics just in case, Devon left the deserted spa and took the elevator up a floor. Straight to room number 1016.

Possibly he could have convinced himself to turn around and go back downstairs if the door had been shut. But the metal bar that served as a security bolt when latched from the inside had been swiveled on its hinge to prop the door open very subtly—a half inch at the most.

An invitation to come inside?

Lured by the implication of that open door, Devon didn’t stand a chance of walking away just yet. Every primitive instinct within him urged him forward to explore his options and follow this night wherever it led. He’d been so disciplined since his ex-wife had left, determined not to let another woman mess with his head until he got his life together again.

But Lori had left…a year ago.

A damn long time to go without sex for a man with enough drive to screw his way through the phone book—according to Lori in one particularly messy argument. Not that he’d ever cheated on her. She just hated that he wanted sex a lot and to her way of thinking, he could have kept half the women in Jersey occupied with his appetite.

Shaking off bad memories and regrets, Devon told himself it wouldn’t hurt to tap on the door. Body tense with anticipation even though he probably shouldn’t have sex with whatever stranger waited for him inside, he knocked.

Waited.

Classical music drifted out into the hallway along with a floral scent from a burning candle he could see perched on a table to one side of the door. Beethoven and gardenias. He was pretty sure he’d properly identified the smell since he could see a face of three exotic blooms just inside the doorway.

He recognized the Beethoven from a college course he’d taken online in a futile attempt to gain refinement for his wife. He might have resented the effort except that he’d discovered he liked what he’d learned and it helped him realize Lori only liked the symphony for the social cachet. She wouldn’t know Bach from Brahms if her life depended on it.

“Hello?” he called into the room, forging ahead despite multiple voices in his brain telling him he needed to back away now before he did something stupid like have sex with an uptight engineer who he’d have to sit across from in meetings some day.

“Come on in,” a soft voice called from deep within the suite…another room, maybe? “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Devon pushed the door open wider, wondering how the scent of gardenias and the soft music could have him seriously hot so quickly. He wasn’t the sex addict his ex had accused him of being. But the whole scenario of finding a titillating note on his computer in the middle of the night and then strolling into a stranger’s darkened hotel room was sending strong sex signals to his brain. He’d be walking around with a serious hard-on for days if he didn’t find a little relief tonight. Of course, his conscience told him to set a date with Rosy Palm and her five sisters in the shower tonight since he could not afford to mess with a total stranger.

“I’ll just be right here,” he called back, sticking close to the door but shutting it behind him for privacy’s sake. And her safety. No woman should prop her hotel door like that.

Very reckless.

And what would a reckless woman be like in the king-size bed on the other side of the living area that was—holy crap—already sprinkled with flower petals? Pink roses, this time.

The core question that had teased the edges of his brain ever since he received the note on his computer flashed into his head in neon letters now. Lori hadn’t wanted anything kinky, nothing wild and definitely no thrill rides while Devon had always liked to push things to the limit.

His skin heated as he heard a rustle on the other side of a door connecting to the living room and kitchen area where he waited. The suite was bigger than his, but the whole place was cast in shades of gray thanks to the light of three scented candles situated around the room. The one clear feature was the bank of windows overlooking the glittering Atlantic City strip and boardwalk with the ocean beyond. He took a step deeper into the suite, drawn by that rustling noise just before the door opened and revealed a half-naked woman he’d never seen before.

“Hi…” Her greeting halted in a breathless gasp, but Devon couldn’t think about that since his own breath had been sucked clear out of his chest at the sight of her.

Platinum hair fell just short of her shoulders in waves that swooped over one eye. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes in the glow of the candles, but then again, his male gaze couldn’t remain on her face since she wore a see-through, open wrap over a white lace bra and matching panties, her generous curves showcased to mouthwatering benefit.

Garters clipped to her outfit trailed down her thighs to hold sheer silvery white stockings in place on legs that ended in impossibly high heels. And holy hell, she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in person or in print, and that included any beer commercial, Victoria’s Secret catalog or NFL cheerleader in memory.

But as his gaze tracked back up her body with considerable effort, Devon realized the ethereal angel with the body for sin wasn’t just breathing heavy for sexy effect.

The woman of his dreams was starting to hyperventilate.

2

THE HARDER Jenny tried to catch her breath, the faster it seemed to whoosh away from her in great gasping gulps. Who the hell was the guy in her room with the slightly rumpled dress shirt and no tie in sight? Had he seen her propped door and simply decided to wander in uninvited?

And where was David?

She wanted to ask the question, but no words would squeak out of a throat overtaxed with breathing. She’d never had androphobia before—fear of men—but there was a first time for everything, and judging by her vital signs, she guessed she was damn well scared right about now. Coming to Atlantic City had been too big of a risk. She should have just stayed home where none of this would have—

“Relax,” the stranger ordered suddenly, his voice surprisingly calm and authoritative for a man who could be anything from a killer on the prowl to a sex fiend lured by the candles and soft music she’d been playing for her rendezvous with David.

Oh God. If she wasn’t frightened before, she sure as hell was scaring the pants off herself now. Not that she had any pants to speak of.

Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs so fast it made her dizzy. She had visions of overoxygenated blood making her light-headed. Or what if she fainted in front of this guy who could take advantage of her while she was unconscious?

Was there even such a thing as a sex fiend? God knows she’d met a few erotomaniacs at the counseling center her mother favored and they probably qualified. If the man in her room wanted something of a sexual nature from her, it sure didn’t help that she was wearing only a few scraps of do-me lingerie. She’d ventured firmly into Frederick’s of Hollywood terrain with this outfit. She resisted the urge to yank shut the curtains displaying the Atlantic City skyline. The last thing she needed was to turn her back on this guy and show him her thong-bared butt.

“Are you okay?” The stranger looked almost concerned for her, his straight brown eyebrows crinkling together as he studied her. “Should you sit down? Has this happened to you before?”

She couldn’t catch a lungful of air to answer one of those questions let alone all three. The room started to spin and she cursed herself and all her stupid issues—real and imagined—for putting her at risk with a strange man in her hotel room.

She’d been stupid to prop the door in the first place, but she’d been afraid she’d lose her nerve to prove to David he’d been wrong about her if she didn’t slip into the made-for-sex outfit. And since she would never have the guts to answer the door in a costume that was a staple in every porno queen’s wardrobe, she had hoped to make a sexy entrance once David was inside instead.

“You need to relax,” the man barked at her more strenuously this time as he moved closer.

The light-headedness kicked into overdrive, throwing off her balance and making her wobble on her feet, her toes curling reflexively inside the faux fur-lined white mules that her De-Luxe catalog sold as bedroom slippers. She thought for sure she would topple over and end up sprawled on the floor of her suite, but the stranger in the wrinkled dress shirt swooped in and grabbed her like some kind of superhero before she hit the ground.

A trespassing sex fiend superhero.

Jenny figured she would have passed out then and there except that she couldn’t bear to be the fainting phobic woman everyone would giggle about behind her back. Not that anyone would ever learn about this event unless the stranger turned out to be a killer and there was a write-up on her murder in tomorrow’s paper, but she would know she’d turned into a wilting flower at the first hint of adversity and she couldn’t live with that vision of herself.

The stranger’s hands tightened around her waist and her bare thigh as he cradled her in his arms. At that slight shifting of his grip, the panic inside her eased by a fraction. Surely if he wanted to kill her or make free with her person, he would have done it before now when she’d been utterly defenseless.

“You’re okay.” He told her as if she wouldn’t have the mental wherewithal to piece it together on her own. He spoke slowly. Articulating the words for exaggerated clarity.

Why bother reassuring her if he was in her room with evil designs? Some of the tension eased in her shoulders and her breathing slowed by aching degrees, her lungs burning.

Only then did she realize they were seated on her flower-covered bed. Or rather, the stranger with the straight brown eyebrows and even browner eyes was seated on the bed. For her part, she was settled across his lap, her butt dipping slightly into the depression between his legs. And holy hysteria, her hip grazed his…maleness.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Okay, fine for him. Impressive for him. Not good for her at all.

She wriggled on instinct until the soft scrape of his light wool trousers on her thong-exposed butt made her think the better of it. This situation of a stranger on her bed holding her half-naked body close to his…impressiveness…was completely absurd and inappropriate. But duh. What did wriggling do to any man sporting that kind of condition?

The problem increased in response.

As did her shaky, shallow breaths.

“Wait.” He squeezed her closer to his chest without really tightening his grip on her. Nevertheless, her breasts were a breath away from popping free of her scanty lace bra. “Sit still until you’re sure you can get up without hyperventilating. You scared five years off my life and I don’t even know you.”

“About that…” Her voice scraped awkwardly over her vocal cords, the pitch all wrong after her bout with too much breathing.

“I’m serious, lady.” He relaxed his hold again, keeping a wary gaze on her. “It’s Jenny, right?”

She nodded automatically before she could consider the wisdom of confirming her identity for a man who knew more about her than most of the rest of the world between guessing her name correctly and cradling her bare thigh in his palm.

And while the sensation didn’t feel good per se, given the fact that he could still be in her hotel room for nefarious reasons, she had to admit that having his hands on her wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience either. She hadn’t been touched intimately since—ugh—her brief affair with a takeout delivery guy she’d slowly gotten used to seeing without leaving the safety of her home turf. But that had ended a year ago when she’d refused to go out on actual dates with him and, sweet psychosis, had she missed the sex.

“How did you know my name?” Had he been rifling through her purse while she was in her room rolling on her sexy one hundred percent silk stockings—items also available from the De-Luxe catalog?

If she hadn’t been so busy trying to get David to change his mind about a relationship tonight she might have heard this stranger’s entrance into her hotel suite.

“You signed the e-mail you sent me,” he informed her, his hands sliding away from her body completely, silently giving her permission to walk away now if she wanted.

Except that her insides still shook and she couldn’t believe her ears even though her Beethoven CD remained pleasantly soft in the background. The Ninth Symphony provided welcome familiarity in an uncomfortable situation.

“What e-mail?” She racked her brain, wondering if she’d ever met him before. Could he be with the psych conference? There were enough borderline crazy people in the Quintessence Hotel this week to ensure she ran into one every time she turned a new corner.

Sliding off his lap with as much grace as she could muster and possibly a little unwanted thrill, Jenny concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths as she kicked off her mules and tucked her legs up underneath her on the bed. The movement released the scent of roses, another sensory anchor that helped her hold steady in unfamiliar surroundings.

The sheer white robe she’d worn provided little coverage, but she drew it more tightly about her and attempted to regroup long enough to figure out what this guy was talking about. If he was an escapee from some local mental institution trying to fix himself via a weeklong psych seminar, Jenny had more reason than ever to watch her back around him.

“The note you sent inviting me to your room tonight.” He stared at her as if she was the mental patient.

“You got a message inviting you here?” She knew he could be lying to justify letting himself into her hotel room, but she couldn’t help but think about her note to David an hour ago. Could she have hit a wrong key? “What’s your e-mail address?”

“D B at Shore Engineers.” He straightened his shirt cuffs beneath the sleeves of his jacket. “You told me you saw me in the lobby bar earlier so I assumed you were someone attending the engineering seminar at the hotel this week. Are you in the industry? I’m pretty sure I’d remember you if we’d met before.”

The tightness in her chest returned, but she forced herself to breathe slowly through the pinch. It had been almost two years since her last full-blown panic attack and she didn’t plan to put herself through that scary ordeal again any time soon. She’d keep her inhalations steady now. Even.

“You work for Shore Engineers?”

That was David’s firm. His e-mails had glowed with pride about the success of his company. His father’s company that he’d recently taken over, in fact. How could this man have intercepted her note to him?

Unless…could David have given her someone else’s address by mistake?

“I’ve already handed in my notice but I’m still technically with the company for a few more days.” His now straight cuffs provided an interesting contrast to the front buttons of his shirt, one of which had been undone from the first moment she’d spotted him in the room tonight. He looked equal parts slick corporate guy and negligent playboy. “Are you suggesting you didn’t mean to e-mail me?”

“I, um—” Wavering, she didn’t wish to insult him, knowing firsthand how fragile an ego could be. But then he also deserved to understand the reason for her panic attack. “Actually, I meant to e-mail David Brady. One of your colleagues, I suspect? I thought that address belonged to him.”

“This was for Wonderboy Brady?” Pointing toward her outfit, he shook his head. “Please tell me you don’t know him well.”

The expression of pure contempt on his face made her hesitant to tell the truth. Would she be lumped in his condescension category if he knew she’d been e-mailing David through the dating service system for the past two months? Then again, most people who weren’t agoraphobic might consider that kind of contact very limited.

“I guess not.” She mourned the loss of her much-anticipated sex romp now that she knew this man had received her note instead of the intended party. “You’re DB?”

“Devon Baines. And I’ve been with the company longer than Brady so they let me keep the address even though I’ve got the same initials as the man you were hoping to contact tonight.” Something about the sardonic set of his mouth told her exactly what he thought of her taste in men. “His address is Hercules at Shore Engineers, by the way, if you’re still interested in salvaging a date.”

Hercules?

He started to rise as if their conversation had ended. But to Jenny’s way of thinking, things were just beginning to get interesting.

“Wait a minute.” Either this Devon Baines was making up stories or David Brady was a far cry from the man she thought she knew. “Hercules? Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was.” Cracking a grin for the first time since she’d spotted him in her room, Devon Baines gave a humorless laugh. “But in all fairness, he’s had the world by the tail his first six months with the company.”

“It’s not like those addresses are a letter different and he could have written it down wrong or I could have read it wrong.” Jenny knew she wasn’t the hottest woman in the world, but she wasn’t so unappealing that a man would just foist her off on another guy to get away from her. Was she? “He had to have given me your address on purpose. Is that some kind of sick joke you have going between the two of you? Write off the women you don’t want by giving them phony contact information?”

Anger burned anew in her, chasing away every last vestige of fear or self-consciousness she might have had about hosting Devon Baines in her hotel room. He wasn’t a killer or a sex fiend. Just a guy with a sick sense of humor. Either that, or he’d been set up.

Devon paced to the bed, retracing the steps he’d taken away from her.

“I avoid Dave Brady wherever possible, so I guarantee you he and I don’t sit around concocting high school-style hijinks to perpetrate on unsuspecting women.” His glare smoldered with barely leashed anger, his tall, strong frame outlined in golden candlelight giving him a glowing aura. “Jesus, Jenny, you could have called the cops when you saw a strange man in your hotel room. You think that kind of repercussion would ever be amusing to me?”

Ah, no.

Now that she heard his take on the subject she decided that wouldn’t be his cup of tea at all.

“Okay.” She offered up a tight smile and turned to David’s other motive. “Then I guess I have no choice but to believe your coworker found me so unappealing he purposely misled me and pawned me off on a person he apparently…dislikes?” She waited for confirmation, unsure from Devon’s side of the story if Dave found Devon as unlikable as Devon obviously found him.

“I can’t begin to speculate why he would have given you my address and I don’t know what he thinks about me personally.” Shrugging, he pulled a champagne bottle out of an ice bucket Jenny had left chilling on the nightstand. “But I can’t imagine any man ever finding anything unappealing about you.”

He shifted his gaze from the champagne label to her and Jenny thought her skin might start to sizzle from the weight of his stare. Memories of his hands on her waist, her thighs, replayed in her mind. The heat of his touch had anchored her through her anxiety attack, helping her battle her demons more effectively than any medication.

Although there was nothing remotely medicinal about his effect on her right now.

“Thank you.” She hadn’t realized how starved her feminine senses were until his compliment warmed her to her toes and heated a few other things on the way. “But apparently David decided at a moment’s glance that I wasn’t his type. We met through a dating service online a few weeks ago, but today was the first time I saw him in person and he fled the table before our drinks arrived.”

Why she felt compelled to offer the most embarrassing details of her dating history, she had no idea, but it seemed as though she owed Devon Baines some sort of explanation for his trouble. Especially since he’d gotten stuck playing doctor to her when she freaked out.

“He might be kicking butt at the office, but he obviously made a big mistake tonight.” Devon settled the bottle back in the ice bucket. “And I have to tell you that if you ever invited me to crack open this highbrow vintage for you, I would never be stupid enough to leave before we kicked the bottle.”

His words coaxed a smile from deep inside her despite the mixed-up craziness of her night. Her whole life.

She liked Devon Baines.

“Whether I owe the pleasure of your company to my good taste in champagne or my habit of heavy breathing on the first date, I think I might invite you to do just that since I usually never fall asleep until dawn.” Another sin confessed. Since she had nothing to lose with the stranger, she might as well be upfront with him. “I’m a total insomniac.”

“You’re kidding.” He stilled in the middle of flipping over the two slender flutes beside the bucket. “Me, too.”

So he wasn’t with the psych convention, but he had a few quirks of his own. Sounded like a promising start to an unexpected new…friendship?

Or more.

“Cool.” Pulling herself from the bed she rose to find a real bathrobe that wasn’t see-through. Something appropriate for a guy she wasn’t planning to seduce quite yet. “Then you won’t think it’s strange that I love having company at 3:00 a.m. If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ll just go find something else to wear and we can stay up all night.”

DEVON DIDN’T BOTHER resisting the urge to watch her walk away. If this was his last view of those thighs in garters, he’d strain his eyes for a good look until she disappeared into the bathroom.

Well damn.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a crazy night. He’d ditched the networking opportunity offered by the seminar mixer downstairs. Then he’d received a wayward e-mail inviting him for what sounded like hot and heavy sex. Then the sender of the message turned out to be a total babe who panicked at the sight of him but offered for him to stick around nevertheless.

A sane man would leave. Devon had a sudden craving for champagne and a woman named Jenny.

Popping the cork on the bottle, he poured bubbling froth into the chilled glasses on the nightstand and told himself there was no reason in the world he couldn’t spend the night with her in her gardenia-scented haven full of luxury if he so chose.

He got the impression she wasn’t an engineer. God, he hoped she hadn’t come here for the sole purpose of meeting Brady. The kid had disappointed his old man at every turn, wanting nothing to do with the company his father had built until John Brady gasped his last breath at seventy-five years old.

Devon concentrated on enjoying the moment, something he’d learned to do at a young age for a variety of reasons he didn’t care to remember. And living for the moment was pretty much a cakewalk tonight when he got to share his insomnia with a woman who wore lacy white lingerie and seemed to embrace risk-taking as much as him.

“So I never told you my last name.” She reappeared suddenly, a man’s black and red flannel bathrobe covering her from midcalf to neck, although her feet remained covered by the sheer white silk that could only be the gartered stockings she’d been wearing earlier. An enticing prospect to know what waited beneath the flannel. “It’s Moore.”

“Nice to meet you, Jenny Moore.” He held out a glass of champagne to her and raised his own with the other hand. “Here’s to shared insomnia.”

“Cheers.” Accepting the glass, she clinked it against his before taking a sip. “I’m not usually the kind of woman who propositions men she hardly knows, but I’ve been pushing myself to take more risks lately. Be a little more bold.”

Seemed to him she was doing just fine in the bold department. Her note had been…intriguingly forthright.

“Are you in town for the engineering conference?” He followed her toward the sofa away from the bed. A damn shame she wasn’t thinking about jumping his bones the way he wanted to jump hers, but he found himself intrigued by more than her silk stockings. Even wrapped up in flannel, he wanted to get to know her.

“If you knew me better you’d realize that’s like asking Shaquille O’Neal if he’s in town for the knitting classes.” Dropping onto the white leather couch that was more comfortable than his black and Lucite-crammed suite, Jenny sipped her drink and folded her legs underneath her. “I’m a small business owner and I run a catalog company called De-Luxe. My refined tastes and love of shopping have finally parlayed themselves into a lucrative career after years of simply running me into credit card debt. I’m thinking about expanding this year and taking the company public.”

“So the fur-lined slippers and the exotic vintage champagne are par for the course for you.” He didn’t know what he thought about that since he’d never been a connoisseur of anything beyond beer and tractors. Not that he was Joe Farmer, but he’d gotten his first taste for mechanical engineering when he’d taken apart a neighbor’s old John Deere and put it together again.

“They’re not real fur, just a top-of-the-line facsimile.” She set her glass on the coffee table and studied him in the candlelight, her eyes clearly a shade of hazel now that he saw them up close. “And the luxury goods definitely aren’t the norm for me anymore since I’ve learned to put most of my earnings back into the business, but there are a few items we carry that I can’t help but scoop up.”

“You live in Jersey?” He noticed her hands were bare of rings, her nails neatly polished in a shiny clear finish with the tips painted extra white. “You don’t sound like a native.”

“It took years of practice to erase the accent, believe me.” She winked and he wanted to pull her closer to sit her on his lap again. “But since I started out as the sole operator for the De-Luxe 800 number, I wanted to sound a little more upscale than the Jersey twang suggests. I grew up just south of Seaside Heights, about an hour north of Atlantic City. You?”

“I started out in Philly and I still have a place there. But I keep an apartment near Wildwood since Shore Engineers is based down there. We do work all over the eastern seaboard.” He’d embraced the traveling as part of his job since he still tended to go stir-crazy if he stayed in one place for too long. “In fact, I think I put in a small coaster at an amusement park just north of Seaside Heights. One of my first.”

“You build roller coasters?” Her eyes lit up, brighter than the lights on the glittering boardwalk outlined behind her.

He really liked Jenny.

“I’ve designed a few. That’s the payoff for being a math nerd all through high school. Eventually you recoup a certain amount of cool that you never could cultivate by busting the grading curve on every test.” Not that Devon had ever needed anyone else’s approval.

“So what’s it like to create a thrill ride? Are you the first to try it out? Do you ever get scared you forgot a safety feature and you’ll be tossed out of the car on your ear?” She focused solely on him, her pupils wide in the dim light.

A damn heady experience to be on the receiving end of that focus.

“I’m not always the primary tester, but I try to be whenever possible.” What was the point of designing and strategizing for the best adrenaline buzz if you couldn’t critique it afterward and learn from the experience? Good mechanics were all about subtle adjustments. The esoteric changes that couldn’t always be accounted for on paper. “And I would consider the ride a failure if there wasn’t a hint of fear along with the fun. That’s what initiates the adrenaline rush necessary for a good experience.”

“Really?” She seemed to contemplate that as if he’d unveiled some important secret. “You scare yourself on purpose. But don’t you eventually not fear it anymore? If you take the ride too often, do you grow kind of blasé about the whole thing?”

“Not me.” He’d never let that happen. “I live in the moment and actively seek the thrill. I think you can only grow detached like that if you want to take the fun out of it.”

Frowning, she twisted her finger around the dangling belt of her robe. “Or if you want to take away the fear. But what does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like? Designing a coaster?”

“No. Experiencing it firsthand.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a roller coaster.” He couldn’t imagine someone depriving themselves of the experience.

“Never.”

He smacked his forehead in disbelief, but he’d gladly share his take on it. This was one woman he planned to convert.

Setting his glass beside hers on the coffee table, he leaned forward. Closer. Firmly into Jenny Moore’s personal space.

“It’s an adrenaline rush.” The kind of experience he sought out whenever possible, just for kicks. “A slow build that climbs with anticipation until you can barely hold still for what’s going to happen next. Then a heart-flipping moment where you feel like you’re going to fall over the biggest ledge of your life and your whole nervous system goes ballistic with erratic impulses. You can’t breathe. You can only scream your brains out and hold on for dear life.”

Unable to resist the lure of her hazel eyes hanging on his every word, he reached out to stroke a finger down the side of her soft cheek.

“Sort of like sex.”

3

“MY EXPERIENCES must be lacking because I can’t ever recall sex having such a profound effect.” She knew she’d been seriously deprived when it came to quantity of intimate encounters, but now she had to consider that she’d never even enjoyed much quality in that department. “And since I have built a whole company around the idea of indulging your inner hedonist, I think I’m going to have to investigate this sex-as-thrill premise.”

His hand cupped her chin tilting her face toward his in a way that sent her pulse into overdrive.

“It can be risky to seek adventure with someone you don’t know much about.”

As if she didn’t have enough phobias without him resorting to scare tactics.

“Trying to warn me away?”

“Not from me.” His thumb dragged slowly along her bottom lip. “Selfishly, maybe I’m just hoping you don’t consider propositioning anyone else. I’d like to be the one to get to know you better.”

The heat that had been flowing through her veins cooled slightly at the reminder that her night had started off with another man.

“I’ll keep that in mind if ever I feel the need to issue a proposition again.” She smoothed the heavy red flannel of her robe over her knee. “Considering my first attempt landed a total stranger in my room, caused a panic attack and proved that the one guy I tried propositioning is flat-out deceitful, I probably won’t put myself out on a limb for sex again anytime too soon.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Devon leaned back on the couch, giving her enough space to start thinking with her mind again instead of her overheated body that still remembered the feel of his hands on her naked thigh. “There’s a chance this guy Brady used some semi-shady tactics to squeeze me out of a job, and while I’ve got plenty of career doors open to me, I can’t help but resent that his maneuvering flew in the face of his old man’s wishes just a few months after the guy kicked the bucket. I’ll admit, I might just be choking on a couple of sour grapes. But in case I’m not, you might want to be careful.”

“I make it a habit not to let somebody close to me again if they hurt me once.” She had enough problems with trust without putting herself on the line that way. “What about you? Are you leaving the company because this guy stole your spot?”

“I’m not willing to play games to win back the job without the board’s endorsement. I probably should have made more noise about my qualifications sooner in the decision process, but I tend to get wrapped up in projects more than politics.”

“So you bow out gracefully even though you don’t have much faith in the company’s new director?” Jenny knew she’d never have the heart to play those kinds of games either, but Devon built thrill rides for the fun.

No doubt he could successfully handle corporate politics.

“The board chose him, so maybe he has strengths I don’t know about. There comes a time when peace is more important than fighting for what I might think is fair.” He almost looked convinced of it. Almost. “Besides, no one promises life will be fair. You know that going in.”

“So you’re leaving Shore Engineers to do what?”

“Go out on my own. Do some consulting work for a few amusement parks to put together the kinds of rides thrill seekers want.” He pulled over the champagne bucket and refilled their glasses. “Now that our day-to-day lives are so insulated from physical danger, theme parks are more popular than ever because they provide the edge-of-your-seat experience absent from our lives.”

“I see you’ve given this idea of incorporating excitement into life a lot of thought.” She sipped her champagne and let the bubbles tickle her lip. The dry bite of the drink made her all the more thirsty somehow, but she knew drinking more wouldn’t help.

A taste of Devon Baines, however, might just do the trick.

“I grew up with an appreciation for adventure.” His arm sprawled along the back of the sofa while he soaked up the view of Atlantic City and the ocean out the window and she soaked up the view of him.

How might her life be different if she allowed herself to dive headfirst into adventure sometimes instead of retreating behind the safe four walls of her apartment? She’d taken a risk and faced danger by coming here this week and look at how she’d thrived in spite of the potential consequences. She’d survived an anxiety attack and met a fascinating man in the process. Her agoraphobia didn’t have to rule her life.

It had robbed enough from her already.

“I think a man with so much experience in adventure would make a very good guide in the realm of thrill-seeking sex.”

God knows where she got the nerve to say it. Maybe it had been the champagne talking, although with only a small glass and a bonus sip to her credit, she hardly thought so. And damn it, she stood firmly behind the sentiment. This was her week for adventure.

Devon stared out the window at the sparkling lights below for so long she wondered if he’d heard her. But then, he turned the full, heated impact of his gaze toward her and she knew he’d most definitely heard.

“Are you in the market for a guide, Jenny?”

His low-spoken words seemed to tremble through her skin, reverberating along her nerves and stirring her very blood. She would never find another opportunity like this, a stranger who came to her—on safe terrain—in the middle of the night and stayed with her until she wasn’t scared.

Until she was entirely intrigued.

“Yes I am.” She didn’t hesitate. “I want the thrills.”

Devon had never heard sweeter words. A plea for sex from a sensuous woman who wanted as much adrenaline in her ride as he did.

He reached for her the same moment she leaned toward him. Fingers sinking into the chin-skimming platinum hair, he hauled her close. Her gardenia scent teased his nose for a moment before his mouth found hers. He drew on her lips, tugging the lower one into his mouth to nip and suck and taste her. Her champagne flavor and slick warmth made his senses spin and he reached to pull her back on his lap where he’d wanted her to be again ever since he’d held her there earlier.

Jenny wound her arms around his neck, and then, too restless to be still, she trailed light scratches down his back, hastening him. He’d never expected this woman, garbed in delicate white who’d hyperventilated over the sight of him in her room, to generate so much heat.

The music playing had switched from Beethoven to Rachmaninoff, a venture to the dark side that suited Devon’s mood well. Tunneling beneath her flannel robe, he cupped the smooth curve of her sweet, heart-shaped ass that he hadn’t gotten to appreciate nearly enough the first time she’d been seated across his thighs. She wore a lace and satin thong cut in a mouthwatering V shape as if to point him in the direction he needed to touch. As if he needed any reminders.

But he couldn’t go there first, not when he’d promised a thrill ride she wouldn’t forget. First they needed the slow, upward climb, the steady build of anticipation that made the first plunge knock your breath right out of your lungs.

Careful not to stray beneath the elastic of her panties, he skimmed his palm up over the curve of her waist to cup one lace-covered breast. The weight in his hand had him even harder than he’d been five seconds ago, which was saying a hell of a lot since he didn’t know how much more a zipper could take.

Thankfully, her restless fingers tracked down his shoulders and over his abs to address the situation, although the way she brushed and grazed the head of him as she worked threatened to take him over the first precipice too damn soon.

Covering her fingers with his own, he helped her ease down the zipper. “I’m not going to be much of a guide if I lose it before we get naked.”

“Are you kidding?” She didn’t even pause to look at him in her fascination with what she’d unveiled. “We could stop now and this would still be the biggest thrill of my life. The very biggest.”

She peered up at him then through her lashes, a slow smile of invitation curving her swollen lips. The subtle suggestion that she would comply with just about anything he wanted held him riveted.

And just like that his control started splintering. Sex with Jenny wouldn’t be about finely tuned mechanics and seamless engineering. Things were going to get wild and out of his control and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change that.

He peeled away her robe, tugging the tie free until the flannel fell from her shoulders and slid to the floor. Her bra strap drooped down her arm along with it, and Devon peeled the cup the rest of the way off to expose first one breast and then the other.

She was so pretty, her creamy skin pale and perfect and highlighted by taut, rosy tips that puckered even tighter as he watched. He bent for a taste and her spine arched, head falling back as he licked, suckled and drew on each pebbled nipple. His hands worked the clasp as he laved the delicate skin, freeing the soft cleavage for him to gently knead and squeeze until she moaned and writhed beneath him.

Her leg snaked around his hip, telling him exactly what she wanted. He wanted that, too. Wanted her. All over him.

She was so soft. Her hair. Her breasts. Her silky skin. And that utter femininity, the distinct sexuality of her body, made him rock-hard by contrast. He edged her backward on the sofa, leaning her down until her shoulders hit the leather cushions. The need to be on top of her, over her, dominating her at least this first time gripped him with a fierceness he didn’t recognize.

“This time will be fast.” But he wasn’t leaving until he’d given her everything, until he couldn’t remember his own name. “And hard.”

“I’m ready.” She undid the buttons on his shirt, shoving away the starched cotton to feel his skin. “More than ready for that.”

Lifting off her enough to step out of his clothes, he heard a champagne glass roll across the coffee table and thud to the carpet on the other side. A candle flame somewhere in the room wavered wildly from the air disturbed by tossing his clothes away.

“Are you sure?” He pulled her thong down her thigh, blessing her foresight for wearing the panties over top of the lace garter belt hugging her waist. “Because I need you really ready for me. Hot. Wet.”

He kissed her mouth as his hand parted her thighs to see for himself. And she was both. So damn hot. Wet enough to slick his finger with her and tease a shudder from the touch.

“You like that, Jenny?” He would gladly stroke her this way all night if he could make her quiver again.

Her hazel eyes fluttered open to stare up at him in the warm glow of candlelight, her pupils dilated so wide he could scarcely see the irises.

“I’d like more,” she whispered, her tone full of spark and fire even when he had her trembling beneath him. “I want all of you inside me.”

Ah damn, now it was him who suppressed a shiver, her words teasing him more powerfully than any touch.

“Condom.” Why hadn’t he taken the ones he’d grabbed at the spa out of his pocket before he tossed aside his pants? “Wait.”

He reached for his trousers, hands practically shaking with the need to have her now. It had been so damn long for him and being with Jenny was like a libido accelerator, propelling him forward on raw sexual need.

“Let me.” She checked the other pocket while his hand tangled in the first and a second later she emerged with a foil wrapper. “I want to put it on.”

He grit his teeth, knowing he’d never survive her hands on him but damn it, he couldn’t say no when this time would be so quick.

“Okay.” His voice hit a ragged note as he tossed aside the couch pillows to make more room. “But I’m hanging by a thread here, Jen.”

He watched her face while she worked, unable to enjoy the visual of her hands on him or he’d be done for sure. To her credit, she rolled it on smoothly, quickly.

“Me, too,” she whispered back, spreading her legs for him to take his place between them. “I need you so—” her voice caught as he eased inside, the room going silent for a long moment before he thrust in the rest of the way and she squealed in response “—badly.”

He held her steady to kiss her, lick her, devour her. He needed to get used to her, to halt the rapid-fire hammering of his pulse so he could give her the ride she deserved. Somehow, some way, he’d scavenge up at least that much control.

“Oh. Ooh.” But then her breathless sighs started, her sweet moans and soft cries that were better music than anything Rachmaninoff could have created.

Devon lifted her enough to swivel her body, planting his feet on the floor and seating her on the couch to give himself leverage. If good sex owed anything to mechanics, he’d get this right for her. Control or no control, damn it.

Slipping two fingers between their bodies he found her clit and circled. Her thighs tightened and he picked up speed as he moved inside her, the couch cushions sliding beneath them as he thrust.

Her cries increased as his fingers worked, the broken words panting, chanting in his ear.

“Please, please, please. Yes, right there.”

He could feel the throbbing of her feminine muscles, the clamping and unclamping until she squeezed him so damn tight he couldn’t hold back another second.

“Ooh!” Her shout of satisfaction mingled with his own, their voices ragged and rough while their bodies hummed and vibrated together in one last straining dance.

Jenny’s breathing slowed and finally evened out, but Devon didn’t think he could move. Not quite yet anyway. Their bodies remained sealed together by sweat and sex, skin sticking to the leather sofa. He just lay slumped over her, replete, and listened to her breathe while the sounds of a ruckus in the suite next door floated through the wall. Not a ruckus exactly, just some headboard banging that made the pictures—all framed views of Atlantic City—vibrate against the wall.

Jenny didn’t seem to notice or chose to ignore the slight racket as she smiled up at him, the candle glow reflected in her eyes.

“That was quite a ride.” Her mussed hair only made her look sexier, like a wanton angel come to tempt him. “No wonder you love your job.”

IN THE SUITE next door, David Brady rode the petite brunette he’d chosen for tonight’s fun and found himself frustratingly distracted by thoughts of the little Miss Innocent he’d had drinks with earlier that night.

Jenny.

He didn’t usually like blondes, especially the naive variety, so he’d been all too happy to pass up on her charms in favor of someone more experienced.

Like Sasha, here.

“Oh please, don’t hurt me,” she cried out in mock fear over the noise of the black lacquer headboard rapping the wall behind it, her panting breaths coming even faster than his lightning-quick thrusts. “I’m so sorry I was a naughty girl.”

David knew Sasha the cocktail waitress wasn’t one bit sorry since she’d come twice already while she talked herself into a frenzy. He peered down at her upturned cheeks as he plowed into her from behind and wondered how to get the blonde out of his head long enough to enjoy his time with the saucy server who’d fondled him under the table tonight when Jenny had gotten up to powder her nose before their drinks arrived.

Really, how could he expect a novice like the De-Luxe proprietor to compete with the waitress who’d gotten inside his zipper in two seconds flat, all without anyone realizing what she was up to?

And yet…

Something about Jenny Moore had called to him. She obviously liked him more than he’d realized since there’d been a moment she looked totally distraught once he excused himself from their date. And that adoration appealed to him. Had he been too hasty in choosing the quick payoff over a woman that might have been more intriguing in the long run?

“Oh yes!” Sasha shouted, spreading herself wider for him, all while shifting his hand to her bottom and making not-so-veiled references to her need to be disciplined.

How did he end up with all the S and M junkies lately?

Not wanting to disappoint her, he trotted out a few stock “bad girl” phrases to keep her in the mood, his brain miles away from the sex that left him rock-hard even after two hours of antics with his energetic bed partner. He prided himself on being a skilled lover, enjoying the thrill that came with giving a woman everything she wanted until all she saw was him.

But tonight, for some reason, that wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was time for him to challenge his sexual prowess. Test his powers of seduction. Women like Sasha were so easy to please. There wasn’t the thrill of the chase the way there would be by courting an innocent like Jenny.

How would he strategize her seduction? She had some phobias. Fears.

Rolling Sasha to her side for a better angle, David thought maybe he could overcome Jenny’s fear of strange places by taking her someplace safe. Secluded. She’d feel more comfortable if she could simply concentrate on getting to know him. And he could discover all her sexual secrets, all the things that made her unravel.

Already the idea teased his imagination, tempted him out of this evening’s ennui so that he could enjoy the feel of Sasha around him.

Did it really matter that he had to envision Sasha as an innocent blonde instead of a sizzling, knowing brunette? The firebrand waitress would never know the difference. She was too busy staving off another orgasm.

Seizing any idea that would salvage the night for him, David reached for his discarded tie tangled up in the bed linens.

“Bad girls need discipline,” he reminded Sasha, sliding the silk around her eyes and knotting the ends behind her head. “I think you’re going to have to work a little harder to please me after the way you sent my date running tonight.”

“Very naughty of me, wasn’t it?” Sasha smiled. He could tell from the way the blindfold lifted on her ears, her cheekbones shifting with the movement.

She was sassy and full of herself, and David promised himself to give her everything she asked for and more. Right after he finished his daydream about satisfying Jenny Moore beyond her wildest dreams.

He needed an innocent in his life now that he’d finally found his rightful acceptance in his father’s world. And Jenny was a woman he could trust not to embarrass him at corporate functions and feel up his coworkers under the table when he wasn’t looking.

He couldn’t bring women like Sasha around Shore Engineers, not with know-it-all engineers like Devon Baines ready to steal away everything he’d worked so hard for since his father died. The thought of Devon, the protégé David’s father had fawned all over when he turned his back on David, made him thrust into Sasha a bit harder than he’d intended.

But she liked those kinds of games anyway, right? She’d forgive him.

His seed spilling in her tight passage, David shouted his fulfillment, but even that didn’t bring him as much pleasure as he’d hoped since the name on his lips wasn’t the sweaty waitress who had practically begged him to take her to his room. It was Jenny Moore with all the irrational fears and issues they’d talked about online for two months. He should have never given her over to Baines, thinking she’d annoy someone who prided himself on having his life so perfectly ordered.

No, David should have realized the sweet intensity a softer female could bring to his bed.

His cock bobbed responsively at the thought while Sasha recovered from their third go-round in the sack. Had she come that last time? He hated that he didn’t even know. But he was too busy dreaming up plans for winning back the woman who could help him secure his future as head of his father’s company despite the selfish old man’s wishes.

4

JENNY MOORE —Manhunter Extraordinaire.

She smiled to herself as she watched Devon move about the hotel room, picking up champagne glasses and straightening a couple pieces of furniture gone slightly askew in their frenzied need for one another. How delicious that he felt the need for order, this wild man who’d just spoiled her for sex with any other male. Gotta love that engineer attention to detail, especially when the details included every inch of her body.

Except that she wouldn’t love this man. She would simply pleasure herself—and him—with this red-hot chemistry they’d discovered until they were both too exhausted to move. And that’s what qualified her as a masterful manhunter. Even if she’d found this particular man by accident.

She’d still walked away with a blue-ribbon stud.

“You look pretty damn pleased with yourself, Ms. Moore,” he remarked as he scooped up their clothes and draped them over the back of the couch. “Are you thinking about what a sucker I am for garters?”

“I was thinking how good you look naked.” She’d never had a man in her life for long on an intimate level, and her couple of trial runs with guys who were more friends than lovers had been less than inspiring. So seeing vitally attractive Devon prowling around her suite was a luxurious treat foreign to the De-Luxe CEO, even though she was normally an expert on pleasure seeking.

What fascinated her now was the obvious interest he—all of him—paid to her compliment.

“You’re making it tough for me to give you any recovery time with that kind of talk.” He paused in his straightening long enough to check out the CDs she’d brought along. Pressing the random option, he stalked toward her as a Strauss selection hummed through the speakers.

“Who needs recovering?” Staring at him was giving her hot flashes, her whole body clamoring for more. “Tonight is a one-time indulgence for me so I’ve got to make the most of every second.”

“One-time?” Frowning, he stretched out over the bed, completely invading her personal space in an unmistakable message as he covered her. “Are you going back home tomorrow?”

“No.” Her breath caught in her throat to feel him on top of her, even with a sheet and a thin blanket in between them since she’d burrowed under the covers, less confident in her naked body than he seemed to be in his. Although judging by the way he’d touched and kissed her, maybe she didn’t have any reason to worry. “I’m here all week.”

She hoped he wouldn’t ask her the specifics about her reasons for staying in town. Baring her body had been enough of a step for her tonight without baring her soul, too. She didn’t know what he’d think of her agoraphobia, this man who lived for the next thrill. But she would rather not risk their heated connection with the mundane details of real life just yet.

“You’re here all week and you’re limiting this to a night?” He bent to swirl his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat. “I obviously didn’t do my job before if you can turn your back on us so fast.”

She swore she could feel the effects of his tongue the whole length of her body. Tremors of pleasure skimmed all over her skin as he slid under the blankets with her.

“Hey, what is this?” He paused to peer down at the hot pink bed sheets, then run an appreciative hand over the silky smooth finish.

“Egyptian cotton. Insanely high thread count.” She loved these sheets and had sent them ahead to the hotel to ensure her comfort and peace of mind.

And because the only way she could travel was to bring snippets of home with her to give her brain familiar things to focus on, like her music.

“You treat yourself well, don’t you? The gardenias, the candles, the sheets—none of it feels like a hotel room to me.”

“Some of us find our thrills closer to home.” Flipping back the sheet, she showed him the cashmere blanket she’d brought in her suitcase. Okay, her trunk. When you traveled with big issues and even bigger blankets, your bags tended to be on the large side.

“I’ll be damned.” He ran a palm over the soft blanket and his gaze narrowed. “You’re a hedonist.”

“Guilty.” Better he think that than know the whole truth. Besides, she did like to indulge herself.

Releasing the blanket, he straightened the sheets again and pulled her close. “Do you have any room in your life for things that aren’t all soft and smooth?”

He was ramrod hard against her, the heat of his skin practically singeing her.

“That can be pleasurable, too.” Her voice was whisper thin, her whole body molding around his, heat pooling between her legs.

He drew the sheets up over their heads, sealing out the world and consigning them to a hot pink tent. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic or she’d be sprinting for the door. But the close quarters actually soothed her, narrowing the big, bad world down to just the two of them. The sound of their ragged breathing intensified in the muffled quiet, the music from the CD fading inside their refuge.

“I’m going to change your mind about one night,” he warned her, his head ducking to her neck where he kissed his way down her throat. “Tonight we can stay close to home, but before the week is out I’m going to take you down to the Steel Pier. There might not be a roller coaster, but maybe we can convince someone to crank up the Ferris wheel and stop us right at the top.”

Her heart paused for a two-count and then picked up speed at the thought.

“You wouldn’t be so wicked.” She’d have to psych herself up for days just to get back in her car for the drive home. The Steel Pier on a crowded Atlantic City boardwalk was out of the question for someone with her mental disposition.

“In the name of making your heart beat faster,” he traced his fingers over her right breast, “just like it is now, I’ll be as wicked as I please.”

She knew he’d probably run before then, as soon as he found out about her very large emotional baggage, but she couldn’t help savoring the idea of a risk she’d never take. Just because she wasn’t brave enough to put herself out there in new and potentially scary situations didn’t mean she didn’t dream about them. Fantasize that she could take chances and live on the edge the way Devon Baines did.

For now, that was enough.

She sank her fingers into his dark hair to steer his kisses lower. As long as they were playing games of self-indulgence and wickedness, she would show him exactly what she wanted.

His heated kisses had made her breasts ache for direct contact. When his mouth found her, nipping, licking, she threw her head back with the pleasure of it. She undulated beneath him, seeking the best angle, the most heat and pressure from his lips. But the more she satisfied the ache in her breasts, the greater the unrest building between her thighs. She craved his touch, and even more she craved his kiss.

There.

But she was not ready to be that wicked. Not yet. Perhaps if she demonstrated her want by example, tasting him the intimate way she wished to be tasted…

She explored his body with shaking fingers, her nervous system overloaded with sensory impulses and overwhelmed by sex. Devon’s back narrowed into his waist, rippled with unexpected male muscles along the way. His obvious strength surprised her for a man she imagined must work behind a desk with computers and—She didn’t begin to know what engineers worked with.

“I want to touch you.” She breathed her request into their haven, the sheets cloaking them in silky luxury.

“The feeling is mutual.” He licked a kiss into the dip of her navel and she flinched with the erotic feel of his tongue there. Swirling. Teasing.

A bolt of desire flashed white-hot to her core and she could almost imagine what it would feel like to receive his kiss right where she needed him most.

“But I want—” How to say it? Words evaporated from her head as he nipped a soft bite along her abs.

“I think I know what you want.” His dark promise sent her eyelids fluttering as she gave herself over to whatever he wanted to do.

He seemed so damn sure of himself, so much more at ease with the intimacy than she’d ever been, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to simply close her eyes and hang on tight. That’s what one did with the best rides, right?

And then he shifted lower still, his hands sliding beneath her thighs to spread her legs. When he huffed a breath of sultry warm air over her mound, she thought she’d fly apart then and there. The deep intimacy of the act combined with the fact that she’d completely exposed herself to him, sent tremors through her limbs.

Not unlike the moments before she hyperventilated.

In fact, her breathing grew quick and shallow as he slid his tongue along the seam of her, a pleasure so dizzying she thought she’d faint from it. He growled his affirmation, a primal, guttural sound that pulsed through her most delicate parts. The vibrations hummed inside her, heightening the sensation of his kiss and making her feminine muscles clench in response.

The heat beneath the sheets soaked them in sultry sweat. Jenny clutched handfuls of the linens, trying to anchor herself against the waves of pleasure quickly building up inside her. She wanted to savor the exquisite feel of his mouth on her, but the coiling tension tightened too fast.

When he swirled his tongue there, the way he had done to her navel, she gasped at the raw sexuality of it. Dark. Blossoming. Seemingly endless in its power to undo her. She came with a fierceness she’d never experienced, the vitality and passion of this one orgasm rocking her from her toes to her hair follicles, leaving no cell untouched, consuming her very being with one lush contraction after another.

And Devon drove her onward, his mouth giving her no quarter, tongue delving still deeper to tease another release hard on the heels of the first, as if he would never let her go from this fluid, delicious moment of passion.

Her legs gripped his shoulders, her muscles so taut and tense she wasn’t sure she could release him if she wanted. But then the last tide of sensation seemed to sweep through her and her thighs relaxed, falling away as he moved up and over her.

He crinkled a packet.

A condom?

She hoped so. She thought so. But then, of course a man who straightened wrinkled clothing would remember protection. And something about that tiny hint of neuroticism in him made her smile as she drew him up over her, needing his weight on her, the feel of him in her arms.

“You can touch me next time.” He sounded almost apologetic, as if he’d neglected one of her wishes, and Jenny promised herself she would find time to repay him in spades for showing her what a mouth-induced orgasm felt like.

Damned if it wasn’t one luxury no woman should do without.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She twined her arms around his neck. “Right now, I just need you inside me.”

He obliged slowly, as if he understood it had been a long time for her since she’d had sex twice in one night, although actually twice was a new record for her. But even with the slight soreness, the ache for him was a greater concern.

He gripped her jaw with gentle fingers once he was all the way seated inside her.

“Don’t hold anything back, Jenny.” His eyes darkened, a serious glint in their depths making her wonder what woman would ever be so foolish as to withhold anything from him.

“I don’t think I could if I tried.” She lifted her hips, accepting him even deeper inside. “I’ve never been so out of control.”

Whether he believed her or not, it was true. Their night together was so much more than she’d expected.

He withdrew from her then, part of the way, the agonizing loss of him only making her delight in his full return as he thrust into her again. Again. Each time raising the stakes for the release building inside her once more.

“Stay that way,” he whispered, his words tickling against her ear as he moved. “You look beautiful when you’re out of control.”

And just like that she lost it, his sweet words touching her as profoundly as any physical caress. But combined with that corporal contact, too, the O staggered her, wrenching a cry from deep in her throat. She convulsed with sweetly erotic spasms, arms tightening around Devon as she shamelessly clung to him. His release hit him as she held on, his body tensing, steeling over top of hers.

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