“So what are you wearing in bed?” Jack’s voice was like silk on the cell phone.

Raine smiled. “Flannel pajama shorts and a top. Cushy socks. Not exactly Victoria’s Secret, but soft and warm.”

“Very nice… But I want to know what secrets you’re hiding under that flannel.”

Raine felt rather than saw the heated flush on her body. Her breathing was erratic. “Maybe we should just talk….”

She could almost see his naughty grin as he spoke. “Just relax and have fun. I want you to slip out of your clothing. And pretend I’m there with you…watching.”

Talking online had been so much easier. Now he was asking her to do something wildly new and incredibly daring.

“Raine, you make me so hot. I want to touch you.”

She pictured Jack on the other end of the phone, desiring her. Fear and feminine power warred in her mind, and in her heart.

She took a deep breath. “I’m naked now, and I’m under the covers thinking about you. I want to wrap my hands around you. Slide my mouth over you. I want to taste you….”

A strong groan of masculine appreciation came over the line.

Dear Reader,

The thrill of publishing my first romance novel is almost beyond words! I’m so happy to be able to share Jack and Raine’s story with you. Writing for Blaze is a dream come true. I hope to write many more books in the future, but this first one—like a first love, first child or first house—will always be extra special.

Jack and Raine’s story is also very dear to me because it springs from my own experience meeting my husband on the Internet. That happened more than ten years ago, and while our story was very different from Jack and Raine’s, the magic of meeting someone in this particular way always stayed with me and was a source of inspiration for this book.

I hope you enjoy reading Virtually Perfect as much as I enjoyed writing it! And don’t forget to visit my Web site, www.samanthahunter.com.

Best wishes,

Samantha Hunter

Virtually Perfect
Samantha Hunter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Many thanks to Cara Summers,

from whom I’ve learned so much. Your insight and good humor added so much joy to the writing of this book!

For my husband, Mike:

technical consultant, brainstorming partner and the love of my life. You’re everything to me.

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

Chapter 16

1

NORMALLY, RAINE COVINGTON would’ve enjoyed a stroll on a snowy evening. Though Salem was renown to tourists as “Witch City” for its gruesome persecution of women and men accused of witchcraft, the town had more than the history of its witch trials and occult legends to offer. It was a quaint New England coastal town, but in many ways it was also a developing metropolis.

She’d always felt comforted by the homey, narrow streets and historic Federal-style homes huddled up against each other. Right now, however, she couldn’t enjoy any of it. She was too preoccupied figuring out some way to escape Jerry Donnelly who was by her side, nudging into her suggestively from time to time. She clenched her jaw, didn’t say a word and walked a little faster.

Jerry was a freelance graphic artist she’d met at an office lunch given in appreciation of freelance workers. He’d seemed nice enough then. Yeah, nice—they were all “nice” until they were trying to slide their hand up your leg under the dinner table. He had beachboy-blond hair and soft, brown eyes that gave him an innocent look that she’d found attractive. It hadn’t taken much time alone with him to discover that he was anything but.

When he’d suggested dessert-to-go so they could enjoy it in more interesting ways, she officially called time and asked to go home. Who the heck suggested something like that two hours after meeting someone on a first date? Well, apparently Jerry did. And she had the feeling he didn’t take rejection easily.

They were finally here. On the sidewalk in front of her house. The porch light warmed the step, and she gazed at the brick-red door wistfully—escape was so close at hand. Jerry moved closer, going for the kill, and Raine, trying to avoid a confrontation, did the only thing she could think of.

“Oh, God!” She doubled at the waist and held her stomach hard, contorting her face in what she hoped looked like a very painful expression. Startled, Jerry stepped back.

“Um…uh…what? What’s the matter?”

She threw a little heavy breathing into the mix, and winced up at him, backing away slowly. He started to follow, but she held a hand out, motioning him to stay away as she inched toward the porch.

“Oh, Jerry, I’m so sorry, but I have to get inside quick. Something bad…stomach cramps…night!”

“But you seemed fine a moment ago….”

His voice trailed off behind her. Without a glance back, Raine closed the door behind her with a blustery sigh of relief, leaning back against it as if the devil himself were on the other side. It wasn’t her most elegant escape, but at least it had worked.

Resting her head against the door, she let the emotions roll over her. Annoyance, relief—and ah, there it was—disappointment. Her familiar friend. All she wanted was some good company, a little romance, and, if she was lucky, halfway decent sex. When it came to men, those things were getting increasingly hard to find.

There was only one man whom she missed when she didn’t get to see him after so much as a single day. Only one who popped up in her thoughts and made her smile, and who didn’t disappoint.

Rider.

Not even bothering to change, she grabbed her laptop and plopped down on the sofa, a soft shiver of anticipation taking the edge off an otherwise miserable night. The screen glowed, and she tapped at the keyboard, hoping she hadn’t missed him.

She hadn’t! He was there! He saw her logon immediately. She smiled wider, watching his words appear across the screen. He had been waiting. For her.

“Hey, beautiful, I thought you might not be by tonight. Working late?”

“No, was just out for a while.”

“Hot date?”

“No. Boring, boring night.”

She lied, not knowing exactly why she didn’t want to tell him she had been out with someone.

“Nilla, maybe it’s time to spice it up a little.”

“I think we have been quite spicy enough lately.”

Nilla—her pseudonym. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else when she had registered on the site, and had been eating vanilla cookies at the time. So much for her creativity.

“Oh, I don’t know. Depends on your taste. I like things a little on the hot side.”

She grinned, her fingers racing over the keyboard.

“Hold on, tiger. Let me get a glass of wine and change into something more…comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Jumping up off the sofa, she headed into the bedroom to change. She had been talking with Rider—not his real name, of course—online for a little more than a month. They had met online at RomanceMUD, an interactive virtual world. She’d been researching Internet romances for her most recent column in Real Woman magazine, which was just hitting its stride as one of the leading women’s magazines in the U.S.

Over the last decade, she had literally grown with the magazine, which had recently relocated to a bigger and more prestigious building overlooking Salem Harbor to house its ever-expanding staff, now topping two hundred. She’d started as a freelance writer right out of college. The job had really just fallen into her lap and she took it for some income while figuring out what to do next. Then as more and more magazine pieces came her way, she discovered a knack for writing; she loved the work. Eventually she was hired for a permanent position.

She was the head writer for the Lifestyles beat, which covered everything from raising children to fashion. She provided editorial input and was deeply involved in planning each issue’s content. She hired freelancers for most of the articles, but the core element of the section was her relationships column. It had begun as an advice-type column and had blossomed into longer pieces of social commentary. She wrote about all kinds of relationship issues, including friends, siblings, marriage, sex, same-sex families, and working parents.

Pouring herself a glass of merlot she thought about how some things never changed: jealously, passion, misunderstanding, loneliness.

Since more and more readers were writing in with questions about Internet romance, she’d pitched a series of columns exploring love and sex on the Internet—and here she was right smack in the middle of it herself.

She had started off the series by writing about Internet dating services that had emerged over the past two or three years. Plenty of people used the formal services, but since the majority of her readers had “just met” someone online, she’d been wandering through chat rooms and virtual erotic playgrounds to see what she found “out there.”

Raine had joined the RomanceMUD site on impulse, and there she’d met Rider. They’d clicked immediately. With him, she felt that little hint of something special she had been missing with the men she’d dated.

Padding back to the sofa, she sat, lugged her laptop up close to her and stared at the screen. What was he doing right now? What was he thinking?

She was coming to understand more and more about what attracted women to men on the Net. She and Rider talked about everything. They shared intimate fantasies without the disappointments and expectations that often plagued relationships. He could be intense and romantic, and he was always amazingly sexy. It was a compelling combination.

She was sure that in real life, Rider, like all men, probably left the toilet seat up and his beard shavings in the sink. He would make promises he didn’t keep and would glaze over when you talked about things that mattered to you. Online, she didn’t have to worry about any of that. If she wanted to, she could just hit the off button and he would be gone. The perfect man.

He had started out being part of her research project. An experiment. But things had changed, and she felt that they were becoming, well, close. They talked every night, long discussions that kept her up into the morning hours. She was starting to feel as if she knew him, and he her.

Their online talks were always varied. Sometimes it was casual conversation; sometimes it was very intimate conversation. At first it was awkward, writing out her innermost feelings on her laptop’s screen. But then it became more like they were weaving their own little world. As if she was the heroine in her own romance novel. She didn’t have the chance—or the nerve—to be as bold, funny or daring in real life as she could be online. But here, all inhibitions were lifted without risk. What could be better? She shook her head briskly, shaking herself out of her thoughts, and typed.

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I’m back. So, have you thought about joining up with another game?”

“No, I think I am done with that for now—this was just a whim to keep me amused while work was slow. I think I would rather take a dip into reality for a while. How about you?”

Grunting in annoyance, she had hoped he would drop the issue, as she’d obviously ignored it several times before. Another infuriating male trait—if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear, they refused to get the message when it was offered loud and clear.

Rider had been hinting about taking things to the next step, referring to real life a little too often, and she wasn’t big on that idea. However, she knew from her previous research and interviews that this was also the key moment that came about in every Internet romance: should we or shouldn’t we? Fish or cut bait. And she had no idea what to do.

“Still there, Nilla?”

She typed a smile into existence for him.

“Yes, I’m still here. Just caught up in thought. Sorry.”

She watched the words appear on the screen that glowed in the darkness of her room.

“What are you thinking about?”

“About being a ‘whim that has kept you amused while you have been at work.’ I think my ego just dropped a few notches.”

“The game was a whim to keep me amused at work. You are something else entirely.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

Nilla held her breath as she sat back, sorry she had asked that question, but it had just flown from her fingertips.

I smooth your hair from your face, and look in your eyes. I slip my hands up the back of your shirt, and rub your bare shoulder blades, then pull you closer to me. “I don’t know, I am still trying to get a handle on it myself. But it’s something special. I’m intrigued by you. That doesn’t happen too often, for me at least.”

Raine sighed and closed her eyes. She never would have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it herself. It was amazing how erotic, how amazingly vivid the words could be, typed across the screen. There was no sound, yet she could hear each word as if he was whispering it in her ear.

She felt her back arch a little as if she really was being pulled closer to him, and she imagined she could feel his warm breath on her face. Then again, maybe she had just gone without real sex for so long, lame as it usually was, that she was like tinder to a spark—even a virtual one.

JACK SAT BACK and waited to see how she would respond to his request. C’mon, Nilla, sweetheart, talk to me. He couldn’t get over the effect this woman had on him. He was hypnotized. He hadn’t understood why for weeks he would rather be here, sitting on his sofa with a beer and a hard-on, typing pages and pages of conversation, having virtual sex and whatever else they came up with, instead of going out and bringing home a real live woman who could do more than just get him completely hot and then leave him to take care of it by himself.

He was getting impatient with the whole situation; it wasn’t his usual style. Nothing about this was his usual style. He wasn’t a party animal but he’d had a healthy social life that had gone to the dogs lately. He liked to go out, meet women, hang with his friends and have a good time. He hadn’t been with anyone exclusive in a while, but maybe that was because he was spending way too much time sitting in front of his laptop. His pal Greg had called him to go out twice in the last two weeks, and he had made excuses. He said he had to work, when the truth was he really didn’t want to miss time with Nilla.

He muttered to himself, “I must be crazy. Getting desperate in my old age.” Of course, thirty-four wasn’t exactly ancient. The lines appearing on the screen erased his thoughts.

I am sighing as I press into you. I pick up your shirt at its edges, peel it up over your skin, up over your head, and nestle my face against your chest, sucking on your skin, biting you lightly.

Jack sighed, feeling a surge of arousal. Hey, he was human. Having a woman say things like that was the next best thing to being there. The next best thing. But not the best thing. He ignored the doubt that was chipping away at him, and started to respond in kind, when another line appeared, and then another…

I slide my hands down your stomach and wrap my fingers around your erection, squeezing and stroking, loving the feel of you in my hand.” Rider, I want you…I want to make you crazy….”

He felt his heart pound and shook his head, surprised that this was affecting him so deeply. He had been using online networks before most people knew networks existed. His dad had helped him build his own computer, and he’d “talked” to people on the old, slow FIDOnet bulletin boards in the eighties when he was just a kid.

He had literally grown up with the Internet, and it had always been a part of his life—but it had never, ever, been like this. This was a whole new world, a different kind of reality. His jaw clenched as he pounded out the words to her.

“You’ve made me crazy every night, and a good part of every day, for weeks now. I want you to make me crazy for real, Nilla. I want to do the same to you.”

Nothing. The cursor hung like heavy silence between them.

“Hmm, Rider. Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”

Jack shook his head and ran his hands over his face. It was all he could do not to track her down in real life. During the day, he would think of her, something they’d shared, something she’d said, and feel immediately aroused, which wasn’t always convenient. When he wasn’t losing sleep, he dreamed of her at night. Of knowing her. Finding her.

He was an Internet security expert. He certainly had the skills to find her, to get past the pseudonym and find out who she really was. Hell, at his level of expertise, locating her wouldn’t even be a challenge. Even though they used generic e-mails with pseudonyms, it was a simple matter of finding her network address, locating her service provider and making some phone calls.

What most people didn’t understand in the miraculous age of the Internet was that the most common method of hacking wasn’t done with computers, but by finding out the information you needed the old-fashioned way: talking to people who could tell you what you needed to know.

Most people were afraid of putting their credit card number online, but didn’t think twice about handing it over to a waiter who disappeared with it for five minutes. It never failed to amaze him, but those curious social and psychological traits made his work interesting. Computers, he knew, were all about the people sitting in front of them.

A few keystrokes, a few casual requests, and he could know who she was, where she lived and worked, and probably anything else he wanted to know in just a few hours. But he wouldn’t do it, though he damned his sense of ethics to hell. His job was to enforce the rules, not break them himself. Though he was desperately tempted.

“Nilla, baby, I am in knots. That’s the problem. You tie me up.”

“We could certainly try that, if you want.”

Jack nearly broke into a sweat. She could do this to him just with the words. What would the reality be like? There was some kind of wild connection between them, though he didn’t know how it happened, or what to do about it.

He reached down, slid his hand over his crotch, felt the stiffness pushing at the seam of his jeans and dropped his head back, the sharp edge of need burning through him. But this time, it just wasn’t right. He was sitting on his sofa in the dark. Again. Alone.

No. No more of this.

This wasn’t what he wanted, how he operated. It just wasn’t enough anymore, not nearly enough. He sometimes felt as if he lived in front of the screen—it was where he worked, kept up on current events, had his morning coffee and sometimes his dinner—but he was damned if he was going to have his sex life there, too! He typed impatiently this time.

“Nilla, I want to meet you. We need to meet. For real.”

“Not a good idea. I could be fat, bald and seventy-five years old, for all you know.”

He let out a heavy breath. She was trying to deflect him. Disappointment doused arousal as he realized she wasn’t as avid to make that connection as he was.

“Nilla, we’re two healthy adults who are driving each other crazy and then ending up in bed alone every night. I want to kiss you. I want to stop imagining and pretending. I want to see what color your eyes are. What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know, Rider. We don’t know each other well enough. This is just a game. I like it this way.”

“It stopped being a game a while ago. For me, anyway. Think about what we could be missing.”

“Like I said, it could be all lies, Rider. How can we know? We are creating a kind of fiction here, right? That’s what this place is for, not truth. But at least here we know that outright. Why do you want to complicate this?”

“Have you lied to me, Nilla?”

He held his breath for the few long seconds the screen remained blank.

“No, but I haven’t told you the truth, either. You don’t really know anything about me. Not really. I don’t want you to know.”

“What I know is that there is something in you that speaks to something in me. I know you are smart, funny and passionate. I know your politics and your beliefs, but I don’t know the shape of your face, the scent of you, the sound of your voice. And I want to. I didn’t go looking for this, for you, but now I can’t settle for words on a screen.”

“Hold on. This is getting too intense, Rider. I need to think.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his tired eyes, shoving the computer back on the table. He wandered into the kitchen to get another beer. He had pushed the issue, and he was going to lose her. Though he felt ridiculous getting all worked up over a name on a screen, that idea really hurt.

RAINE CLOSED HER EYES and let out a frustrated sigh. Since they’d never even mentioned meeting in person, they’d had openly shared their thoughts and feelings, developing a high level of intimacy fairly quickly, something she had never actually had happen in a so-called normal relationship. She wasn’t sure she believed it could happen in a normal, real relationship.

She had never known a man could share this way, communicate feelings and thoughts the way Rider did. It certainly had never happened to her. If he was like this in real life… She blew out a breath and dropped her head back, amazed at the possibilities. But that was unlikely—this was fantasy. In real life, everything would be exposed, all the faults and awkwardness, all the things that got in the way.

She wished she could meet a man who would not leave her hopes in shambles, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe he really existed. She steadied herself, and wrote carefully.

“Rider, you’re right, this has been special. And if we meet, it might all just evaporate in a big cloud of disappointment. Here we can say, do, be anything we want. We get to be larger than life, but in real life we would probably just bore each other senseless. Or worse.”

“I don’t think so, Nilla. And what if we didn’t? But so what if we did? What’s to lose?”

“I don’t know, Rider. I don’t want to lose this. I enjoy what I’ve had. You. Here.”

“Nilla, this is not real—we’re just two strangers sitting in front of a computer every night, having to face being alone when the screen clicks off. I want to know you. I want you to know me, for real.”

Raine felt a dark cloud of frustration descend around her as she read his next words.

“We have to meet, or I’m out. I’m done.”

She gaped, the ultimatum slamming into her like a hard, cold wind.

“I have to think about it, Rider. Please, I have to think. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night and we can talk about it some more, okay?” I kiss you softly, press my lips to yours. Goodbye.

“Wait!… Don’t go…”

She turned the computer off, ruthlessly cutting the connection.

Collapsing on the soft cushions, she groaned in frustration—this night was just not going well. She had always looked forward to these times with Rider. Meeting him had made her typically quiet evenings exciting.

Though physically it was difficult to be so consistently aroused by someone who could never be there to actually help you release those passions, for her it had been wonderful just to be able to feel them—to walk around basking in the glow of it, to dream of it at night, and to be blissfully unafraid of the pain or disappointment that inevitably followed when you dared those things in real life.

Though she didn’t feel so great at the moment. It was distressing to realize that this wonderful interlude she had discovered and enjoyed was coming to an end. He wanted more, and she did not believe there could be more. She would not be meeting Rider the next evening, for talk or anything else. He would not stop pushing her, and she knew she would not hold out against him in the long run. And that would be an awful mistake.

She knew exactly what she had to do to get some distance on this situation, to grab control of it and put it behind her. First, she could never meet with him again, obviously. Next, she had to write about it. She had experienced Internet romance, right? She had faced the tough decision, and she had made it. Now it was time to share what she had learned with her readers. Only then could she move on and forget all this. Hauling herself upright, she grabbed her laptop again. She opened a blank word-processing page and went to work.

2

“WELL, THIS ISN’T a bad start, but we need more.”

Raine resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and stared at Duane, her managing editor, straight in the eye. She liked him, though grudgingly at times such as now.

“I need to add in the research, get some outside interviews. That should round it off. This is just the first draft, obviously.”

Duane nodded and set the draft of the article she had been up nearly all night writing on the desk between them. She could’ve had his job if she had wanted it, but she liked being a writer. Duane was a good manager, and oddly, he seemed to enjoy it.

He was twenty-eight, almost four years younger than her, fresh out of graduate school, and on the job for a year. He was cute in a frat-boy kind of way, with shaggy dark brown hair and bright-blue eyes. Half the women in the building were gaga for him. Raine just couldn’t work up that kind of enthusiasm, though she had come to respect him as an editor.

He had one of those low-key, soft-spoken, intensely focused personalities that could be deceptive at first. But when the chips were down, or when he wanted things to go his way, he would wield his will like a sword. So far, he’d kept the ship on course, and skillfully managed a diverse group of writers at the magazine. But at the moment, Raine wasn’t in the mood to be managed.

“C’mon, Raine. You know as well as I do what you have to do here to make this article pop. The real meat of it is in the move from online to real life. You need to meet him. This is too good to pass up. See it through.”

She just glared, and her voice was stiff and caustic when she spoke. “Is that an order? Just how far would you like me to take this, Duane?”

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy, or do more than have a cup of coffee with him. But you have already invested all this time in establishing a connection with him, right? And how can you answer the questions that are facing readers if you haven’t really put yourself in their place?” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and she resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze.

“This isn’t a real romance, is it? You have chalked this up as research?”

She closed her eyes and thought of all she had left out of the draft—if only Duane knew the connections she had “established” with Rider. She’d left out most of the intimate material and had written up the experience as a light flirtation, a dalliance. She wasn’t about to expose the reality—or herself—like that for the sake of a column. But deep down, she knew that Duane was right, and just for the moment, she hated him for it.

She nodded. “More or less. But he is a nice person, as far as I know, and you can’t just play with people’s feelings, Duane. He’s not just a lab rat for the article.”

Nodding again, Duane quirked an eyebrow.

“If the safety aspect of it is worrying you, we can help with that. I don’t expect you to go out and meet some creep by yourself.”

“He’s not a creep.” She felt a headache fuzz her thoughts. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, but that’s what we need to know. And what you need to find out.” He picked up the draft and handed it back to her. “You pitched this, you make it work. Meet the guy, then take another stab at it. This could be a killer story, Raine, but you have to see it through.”

“I THINK HE LOOKS LIKE Superman.” Gwen sighed dreamily, watching a man who stared intently at a computer on a desk directly across from them.

Raine snorted and put sugar in her coffee. “That’s Jackson Harris. I think everyone calls him Jack, though. He is the ultimate in computer gurus, from what Duane says. Been here about six months.”

Raine didn’t add that the new guy seemed to have taken a dislike to her on sight, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. He seemed friendly enough with everyone else, but gave her the cold shoulder. The few times they’d crossed paths he hadn’t even returned her hallway acknowledgments. So she’d stopped offering them. She only knew his name because he had been introduced to everyone upon his hiring.

“He’s a computer geek—that would make him a lot more like Clark Kent, right?” Raine didn’t bother holding back on the sarcasm.

Gwen stuck out her tongue. “Kent was Superman—and those dark glasses he always wore were so sexy. Anyway—that guy would look great in a tight blue bodysuit. How the heck did I miss him? This place is hiring one buff guy after another, first Duane, now Jack. I love working here.”

“Please. Spare me.”

Gwen just shrugged and continued to watch Jack work. “So what’s the news on Jerry?”

Raine rolled her eyes and leaned back against the kitchen counter in the employees’ lounge at the end of the hall. The staff often worked late hours, especially on a deadline. Having a full, stocked kitchen available was one of the luxuries that made the company worth working for.

“It was ridiculous. Terrible. He was like a dog in heat—it was crazy, I don’t think I did anything to lead him on. In fact, quite the opposite.”

“Yeah, the buzz is he wasn’t all too happy about it, either. Did you guys argue?”

Raine expelled a disgusted breath. Word traveled fast. Jerry must not have bought the stomachache defense. Oh well.

“No, no arguing. But I was barely able to eat because I had to keep stopping him from mauling me under the table at the restaurant. He couldn’t even hold a conversation. Everything—and I do mean everything, had to come back to sex. And it wasn’t just talk, he has hands like an octopus. So, when we got back to my place, I pretended I had to throw up to escape the good-night grope. Or worse, him wanting to come in.”

“Hey, that’s a new one! I don’t know if he bought your excuse though.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. I have a whole repertoire of techniques to get away from men at the end of dates. I’ll scratch that one off my list.”

“Maybe you should be thinking about things to do to get them into bed at the end of dates.”

Raine snorted. “All I would have to do to get Jerry into bed is breathe. There’s no point.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped in shock. “Wow, you really have forgotten, haven’t you? Jerry aside, orgasms are the point, girlie!”

Raine sipped her coffee and muttered over the top of her cup, “Really? I’ve never known a man who thought so.”

She turned and headed back to her office. Gwen followed, slipping into Raine’s office before she could close the door.

“Gwen, really, I have work…”

“Whoa—hold on. Are you trying to say you have never, you know—that you haven’t had…”

“An orgasm. Yes, I have. Plenty. Just not with a guy.” She sighed. “They haven’t got the faintest clue. I mean, I don’t want to have to tell someone what to do. Women shouldn’t have to come with an instruction booklet.”

“You should use that line in a column. Clever.” Gwen grinned.

“Yeah, right. Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian, maybe a woman would be better at it. That’s my curse—I’m stuck with men.”

Gwen sighed and dropped down in the cushy chair in the corner of the office, ignoring the impatient looks Raine was sending her way. When Gwen was intent on a visit, there just was no stopping her.

“Oh now, it’ll happen one of these days. But geez, I can’t believe you are what…thirty-two?” She ignored the glare Raine shot at her. “And you haven’t had one tiny tingle with a guy? I guess I can see why you don’t want to bother anymore, but you know you have to keep on trying. Sitting at home in front of your computer certainly isn’t going to help things any.”

“I never should have told you about that. Let’s just drop it. That whole thing is coming back to bite me in the butt now, big-time.”

“Why? Are things going downhill? Is the prince turning into a frog?”

Raine sighed and knew Gwen would not go away, and she would not be able to get any work done until she dealt with it.

“No. I don’t know. Rider’s getting too pushy, so I ended it. I wanted it over with.” She sat back, staring out the window at the dark gray clouds forming in the sky over the shops lining Pickering Wharf’s crescent-shaped streets. “But, Duane, in his ultimate wisdom, doesn’t want it over with. He says the article won’t fly unless I ‘see it through.’”

She screwed up her eyes and did a shabby Duane imitation on the last three words. “But I don’t want to see it through. I want to see it over.”

“Why? The computer guy sounds hot from everything you’ve said.”

“Yeah, well, he wants to meet, and I don’t want to—end of story.”

Gwen pursed her lips and considered that for a few seconds. “Maybe you should meet him.”

“Are you in cahoots with Duane? Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Maybe he would be the one to, you know…”

“Gwen, it can’t all be about that. And most likely, it wouldn’t happen. Hot online and hot in real life are two entirely different things. Besides, my luck isn’t exactly good lately.”

“How can you know that until you meet him? You two seem to have such chemistry. I talk to lots of people online, you know I have all my pagan discussion groups, and we have a good time, but it’s not like anything you have been describing.”

Raine sighed. “Well, yeah, I didn’t count on it, it just happened. If we meet, all of that chemistry could go up in smoke.”

“So then, what do you have to lose?”

“Now you sound just like him.”

“Well, you know, I don’t think you should just dismiss it. You don’t have to get serious, but you can, you know, just take him for a test drive, so to speak. All in the name of research.” Gwen’s naughty grin almost had Raine’s own lips twitching.

“Not my style, Gwen, you know that. I’m tired of test drives. I think I am just going to take a break from men for a while.”

“You have been on a break from men for about ten years, by the sound of it. You need a man—a real one—who can flip your lid, so…”

“…to speak, yeah, I got it, Gwen. Stop.”

The warning tone made Gwen sigh and shake her head at Raine. Raine watched her pop up from the chair and felt a twinge of envy. Gwen was intelligent, quirky and an annoyingly eternal optimist.

As the main health and fitness writer for the magazine, Gwen had a body that wouldn’t quit and a lively attitude that drew everyone to her. She and Raine should not have been compatible at all, but they’d become very close over the past few years. Gwen changed her hair color weekly; right now it was platinum-blond with some red and green streaks for the holidays. Thanksgiving had just passed and Christmas was only a month away. Gwen was all sparkly. Raine supposed Gwen made everyone who came into contact with her feel a little sparkly, too.

Today she was slinking around in snug black leggings and a fitted black sweater. She wore at least a dozen silver pentacle earrings and little jingle bells on the toes of her short, stylish boots. It didn’t surprise Raine one bit that Gwen mixed her Wiccan jewelry with her Christmas decorations—Gwen celebrated everything—and at least the jingle let you know when she was coming.

Men tripped over each other when Gwen walked by, not that she noticed. Love ’em and if it’s good, love ’em some more and see what happens was Gwen’s philosophy. She just tripped through life and “trusted the universe”—as she was always advising Raine to do. And she was a good friend. Suddenly Raine felt like queen bitch. Expelling a heavy breath, she tried to make nice.

“Gwen, I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated with Duane and this whole article thing and I want to get it over with and—”

“No problem, sweetie. I have to get back to work, too. Oh crikey—he’s coming this way!”

“Who?”

“Clark!”

Raine puzzled for a moment and then saw Jack Harris appear in the doorway. He would make a lousy Clark Kent was her first thought. His hair was not black, but more of a chest-nutty auburn, and his eyes were not blue, but brown. He had a good build: tall, lanky, muscular and thin. Like a cowboy.

She frowned; he wasn’t dressed for the office. True, the magazine had a fairly relaxed dress code, but Raine valued a professional appearance. Jack did not look very professional in tight jeans and a black cotton, button-up shirt. His hair was a little too long, curling around the collar a bit; he needed a haircut, she thought. No, he did not resemble Superman one single bit. He said something but she missed it, and blinked at him, returning to the moment.

“Hmm?”

“I need to look at your computer. It will only take a few minutes.”

“Why?”

“Routine. We’ve set up a new security system and need to make sure everything is working.”

“Well, okay.” She rolled her eyes at Gwen, who was unabashedly checking out his butt as he walked into the office. As Raine passed by him to get to the other side of the desk, she couldn’t help but notice that he smelled great, like sand and sea.

She looked up, and locked glances with him, then tilted her head a bit, narrowing her eyes and studying him intently. She froze on the spot. Something itched at the back of her mind but she couldn’t reach it. Something familiar. His eyes cooled and took on an unfriendly edge that made him look decidedly un–Clark Kent like. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.”

She raised a dismissive eyebrow and slid past, following Gwen out the door.

“God, isn’t he hot?” Gwen gave a dramatic little demonstration of being weak in the knees as she walked down the hallway.

Raine blinked. “Jack? I guess. Though there was something about him… I think I have seen him somewhere, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, it’s a small town. You may have seen him around before and just not thought about it.”

“Yeah, maybe. There was something about his eyes. I just can’t figure out why he seemed vaguely familiar.”

“Oh well, you’ll remember. Anyway, okay, back to Rider— I think you should meet him, just for kicks.”

Raine rubbed her temples. “Gwen, I think I am getting too old to do things just for kicks.”

“You’re thirty-two, not eighty. Not that being eighty should stop you, you know, if you were. Just imagine, if he is even half of how you described him online in the flesh—so to speak.”

Raine could imagine. Imagination wasn’t the problem; reality was the problem. It never lived up. But still, what if it did? How could she ever know if it was worth the risk? She heaved a sigh and looked back down the hall toward Duane’s office. Even if she didn’t want to meet Rider, she felt outvoted by people who wanted her to do it. But what did she want?

“I need to get back to work. I guess I have some major revisions to do on this article.”

“Okay, well, but think more about meeting him, anyway—it could be the chance of a lifetime.”

JACK SWORE PROFUSELY at the computer as he tapped keys and compared what he was seeing on Raine Covington’s computer to what he was checking on his laptop. Something just wouldn’t take and he couldn’t figure out why. He changed the setting on the firewall—the device that kept the network safe—for this particular computer, and it would click off again the minute it rebooted. That just shouldn’t be happening.

He was going to have to take a deeper look to find out what the bug was. It would take some time and digging. Usually this was the part of his job as Network Security Administrator that he liked best—prying open the mysteries of the wires, swimming down into the information flows, right into the nervous system of the machine, and figuring it out. He could get lost in there for hours, forget to eat, and not care.

But now he felt the pressure of time. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time in Raine Covington’s office, so he would have to come in during the evening or on the weekend. It galled him how she had looked at him as if he were a bug on a microscope slide, and then dismissed him like one, too. It even bothered him that it galled him—everything about her was annoying.

He’d remembered her right away when he had seen her name on the employee list. She, apparently, did not recognize him. That was really not a surprise, but it was what rankled most, in spite of himself. Some things you carried with you, whether you liked it or not.

She’d barely noticed he was alive when they were in high school together, though he shouldn’t take that too personally—that was how she was with everyone. He’d thought she was the most beautiful girl in school, but her personality was far from attractive.

Living in a mansion in an exclusive neighborhood in the Connecticut countryside outside Essex, she rarely socialized with anyone at the school, and in fact, looked miserable most of the time. She obviously detested coming to school with the common folk. It hadn’t been a slum, for God’s sake—Eaton Marsh was a well-respected private school.

He had first noticed her in their sophomore year. He had watched her, considered talking to her, practiced what he would say—had a mad crush on her. She was beautiful then; she was drop-dead gorgeous now. But she had the same imperious attitude—that had not changed.

His parents weren’t anywhere near as wealthy as hers. They worked hard maintaining a small bed-and-breakfast in Essex, and it was a life they enjoyed. He had been raised in a home that was open to visitors nine months out of every year, and he’d loved it. His parents were warm, friendly people who’d encouraged him to interact with the visitors at the inn, who were often treated more like family than guests. Through those experiences, he had developed confidence and social skills that many young people lacked. None of it was enough to deal with the likes of Raine Covington, though.

But it was a small world, and now here they were again, and still, when she looked at him, she just saw through him as if he wasn’t even there. At least he didn’t have a crush on her anymore. Though he did feel a little rush of heat when she brushed past him—she was incredibly soft, and smelled like heaven. Flowers and citrus. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She may be a snob, but she was a gorgeous one.

“Is there a problem?”

He snapped his head up, eyes wide-open at her voice. She stood directly in front of the desk, watching him closely.

“A small one. I’ll look into it later.”

“From the way you were sitting there shaking your head, it looked like a lost cause.”

He stared at her then, and he felt something pull deep down inside his stomach. Emotions crowded in, confusing him. How could he still want her after all these years? Because he wasn’t blind, that’s why. God, she was hot.

Idiot. He didn’t want her—he didn’t even know her. It was Nilla, his phantom online lover who had his head, and his hormones, all worked up. Raine just happened to be there, a warm body for him to focus all his frustration on. Nothing more.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So it is serious? I have a lot of work on that computer—I can’t afford for it to die on me. It’s been acting up lately, so if you could see that whatever is wrong is fixed, that would help.”

“It won’t die on you,” he said. “Just a minor security problem that has nothing to do with everyday functioning. We’ll figure it out another time, but I will have to get back into your computer.”

Her lips pursed, and he realized how much those delicate, arching eyebrows contributed to her expressions. At the moment telling him she was inconvenienced and displeased.

“I have an article due soon, I can’t afford to have these problems keep coming up, and I will be working long hours in here—”

He cut her off, his voice cold. “Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your very important work, Ms. Covington.”

She couldn’t miss the sarcasm, and she felt heat stain her cheeks. He was angry, and she had no idea why he should be. Maybe he was just having a bad day, or was generally rude. Maybe that’s why they kept him in the basement, she thought with a little sneer. She wasn’t sure she cared, but right now she wanted him out of her office.

“Fine. Thank you. That’s all then.” She dismissed him curtly with those few words and went to move around her desk, when she ran into him again, directly on the spot she had bumped into him the first time. She made a mental note to move her desk over so she could widen that space.

Now he narrowed his eyes, pinning her with a glare. “If you want to be formal, Mr. Harris is acceptable, and if you want to be friendly—although I can’t imagine it—then it’s Jack. Jack Harris. But don’t talk to me like I’m one of the servants of the manor, Ms. Covington.”

He was taken aback to see those cool green eyes flare, and for a moment he was curious to see what would follow. Had he finally gotten a rise out of the cool Raine Covington? Then he saw the puzzlement, and the searching—it was amazing how you could see the mind functioning behind someone’s eyes. She whispered his name, more to herself than him.

“Jack Harris.” She shook herself, and blinked. “I’m sorry.” She diverted her eyes, looking down. “I just thought maybe we had met before.”

“No, I can safely say we’ve never met.”

He had just watched her from afar; they never had actually spoken. Right now, this minute, he found himself closer to her than he ever had been, practically pressed up against her slim, soft form twice within an hour. He shifted a little, trying to slide by, and it just happened that his shoulder brushed one of the soft mounds under her sweater. He saw her eyes widen, and felt a little jab of heat himself. Looking down, he saw a nipple bud tightly beneath the soft material, and felt a masculine surge of satisfaction. Oh, yeah, she definitely noticed he was there.

“Um…” She was flustered, he noted, and trying to move past. Getting a grip, he ignored his moment of insanity and walked around to the front of the desk.

What had gotten into him? Sheesh, she would have him up on charges of sexual harassment, and she wouldn’t be far off the mark. He also felt…guilty? Shaking his head again, he knew he had made the right decision about meeting Nilla or breaking it off. Now he was actually feeling guilty about having a response to another woman behind the back of his virtual lover? This was ridiculous. He had to get his life back. He had to have sex. With a real woman. Clearing his throat, he modulated his voice to be cool and professional.

“What kinds of other problems have you been having?”

“I came in on Monday, and for some reason, all my article files had been erased. I had backups of most of them, but it put me behind because—”

“Where did you have them stored?”

Bristling at his interruption, her eyes went glacial.

“I always keep my active folder on the desktop, so I can have quick access to it.”

“Maybe you deleted your files by mistake. Folders and files don’t usually delete themselves.”

“No, they don’t. But neither did I. Something happened, and they were gone.”

He sighed. It was never anyone’s fault when something happened to their computer. “Anything else?”

“Yes, last week I could barely get anything done. My computer kept freezing up, and was very slow. I had to keep shutting it down and restarting. Then it just snapped out of it and was fine.”

“Sounds like minor stuff. Probably won’t happen again. I’ll send a tech up to look at it later.”

With that, he gathered up his laptop and walked out of the office, leaving her feeling abruptly dismissed. Raine sat down in her chair and let out a breath it seemed she had been holding the entire time he had been in the office. What a strange conversation. Why did he dislike her so much? And why had her body leaped in response to such a casual, accidental touch? It was horribly embarrassing, especially with him.

She tried to forget it. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed. He was in no small hurry to get out of her office, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it again. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling, she checked her in box, and saw the e-mail pop up on her screen. From Rider. No subject line. Opening it, she saw only one word.

Please.

The decision to meet Rider was becoming a vague possibility in her mind. She kept trying to push down the sense of anticipation, of hope that this time—this man—could be different, but it kept emerging, especially after talking to Gwen. How could she use this as research when she was so obviously losing her objectivity? What if he was just the way he was online? Could she do this? Should she? Her stomach fluttered thinking of it.

What if meeting him turned out to be a total bomb? What if he was crazy, or even worse, married? But in her gut she knew neither one would be true. He would be great. And she would be…well, she wasn’t exactly chopped liver, but she also wasn’t the adventure girl that she had come across as online. In fact, far from it.

But she had always thought, with the right man, someone whom she could open up with, someone who would care, maybe things could be different. Maybe she could be different. At the worst, the spark would fizzle when they actually met, and that would not be a tragedy.

All in all, she led a pretty normal, sane and sometimes boring life. Could she live up to the sexual fantasies they had shared online? Her sex life had ranged from mildly interesting to nonexistent.

But maybe it wouldn’t even come to that. All she had to do was meet him. That was all.

Her readers had been sending her tons of similar questions and stories about their Internet romances and how to handle them. And now here she was, like so many of her readers, wondering what to do. Take the chance? What was life without a little risk, right? How could she ever really know unless she took the leap? She would just control the risk, make sure things didn’t go any direction she didn’t want them to go. Maybe. Maybe she could risk it. One more time.

JACK SHOOK OFF his aggravation, catching a coffee at the cafeteria and heading back downstairs to the Batcave, as they affectionately referred to the subterranean floor of the office building.

He tried to ignore the anxiety of wondering what Nilla was doing at this very second, what she was wearing, if she was thinking of him, if she was considering making them a reality.

The incident with Raine only had his body more fired up, and he hoped something would happen soon, or he was either going to have to dig into his address book, which he was loath to do. They were women he had dated, and whom he liked. He wouldn’t feel right using one of them to work off the hots he had gotten from someone else. It was more likely he was facing several weeks of cold showers until he got over this.

Never again would he get involved in an online love affair. It was just too hard on the body. He slid a furtive glance at his e-mail. He couldn’t believe it, but his heart actually flipped when he saw an e-mail from her. Sent only moments ago.

He stared at it for a few moments, then opened it. One word.

Okay.

Hot damn! He thought his face would split from grinning, and all of his aggravation was lost in a consuming sense of anticipation. He was caught unawares by the person standing behind him.

“Uh, sir? Sir?”

Jack spun around in his chair, realizing he probably looked as if he had won the lottery, and not really caring. One of his guys, Neal Scott, was standing in the doorway behind him. Taking a breath, he got his excitement under control and put his professional face on, though he couldn’t quell the buzz of anticipation that was running through his blood.

“What’s up, Neal? Sorry, I just, um, just got some good news.”

“Oh, that’s good, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir, Neal. Jack is fine.”

“Okay, um, sir, Jack. You asked me to stop by to look at the security bug you were dealing with.”

Jack watched the young man in the office. Neal was a great worker, and a nice kid, if a little shy. Jack knew he was in his twenties, but there was just something about him that made him seem much younger. Neal kept to himself a lot, but Jack had been including him more, trying to draw him out a little, and it was working. Neal was loosening up a lot, and had even gone out with a bunch of them a few times.

Jack liked the kid and thought he could really be an asset to the company. Hell, Neal seemed to do nothing but work—he had been in his office most of the weekend, which Jack had seen when reviewing the security logs.

He was smarter than hell, too, but he didn’t have much confidence, and was generally overlooked by management. So, Jack had been giving him some more challenging jobs, bringing him along slowly. He pulled a chair up and gestured for Neal to sit down.

“Yeah, take a look at this. It’s been giving me a headache all day.”

Neal squinted behind the thick, black-framed glasses he always wore and read the screen full of numbers and symbols quickly and with interest.

“Yeah. There. I see it. Might be a worm.”

“I’ve tried to close it down about ten times, but it keeps popping open. You are a much slicker programmer than I am, can you work on it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Neal got up to leave and Jack shook his head.

“Hey, Neal. I see you were here all weekend?”

“Um, yeah.” Neal creased his forehead and then pushed his glasses up.

“I appreciate initiative, and you’re doing a great job—but don’t get burnt out—there’s more to life than work.”

Neal nodded, and headed to the door.

Jack sat back and flipped the e-mail from Nilla back on screen, smiling broadly again. He knew he wouldn’t be spending his weekend at work. With any luck, he would be spending it making a fantasy come true.

3

RAINE DASHED THROUGH her apartment door and almost dropped the pizza she’d grabbed on the way home. She was giddy with nerves. She didn’t want to think about why the change in her decision to talk to Rider tonight had such an effect on her mood. After all, she was just going to talk to him. If anything didn’t hit her right, she would call it quits and that would be that. She would remain in control of the situation.

Forgetting the pizza on the entry table, she made a beeline to her computer and logged on. Connection time was slow, and she jittered on the sofa, wiggling her fingers in the air over the keys, going crazy waiting for the screen to tell her she was ready to go. “C’mon, c’mon!… There, good!”

A few quick keystrokes and she was in. She looked at the list of players logged in, and his name was not there. Damn!

She fell back against the cushions, closed her eyes, and let out a frustrated breath. It was only seven; it was early yet. She thought about the pizza, but wasn’t hungry now. She put a hand over her eyes. Was she crazy? Maybe it was better this way; maybe she had made the wrong decision. This could be her reprieve. Then she peeked through two fingers and sneaked a look at the screen, smiling widely.

“Wake up, hot stuff. You beat me here. Your e-mail made my day.” I kiss you warmly.

Raine watched the cursor blink, and felt as she typed that every line was rewriting her life in ways she couldn’t even imagine. She hoped it was for the better.

I kiss you back.” You’re pretty easy to please.”

“Generally. But you seem particularly good at it.”

Raine held her breath, and typed, before she could change her mind.

“We need to talk more about what we want out of this whole thing.”

“Well, how can we know until we meet? Maybe nothing, maybe we end up married with five kids, who knows?”

Raine felt her jaw tense, and responded bluntly.

“You see, that’s it, Rider. I don’t want a house and five kids. I don’t want anyone pushing me. That is why I‘m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t proposing marriage there, just saying that we can’t possibly know what we want, or what this will be.”

Raine pressed on, screwing up the courage to say what she really meant.

“Yes, we can—we can say what we want it to be, we can say what we will do, and what we won’t—what things are possible, and what things are not. So there are no unreasonable expectations, and no one gets hurt.”

“Okay, not getting hurt is good. So you want rules?”

“I suppose…sort of. Yes.”

“What rules do you want?”

Raine considered, and typed slowly.

“All right. First of all, maybe both or either of us may not be interested right away. At that point, maybe we have a nice dinner and part ways.”

“Okay, I’d say that’s a given.”

“And if we do like each other, if we are just as attracted as we are here, we can just let it be what it is—it doesn’t have to get weighed down with all the emotional baggage, promises of forever.”

“Nilla, are you saying you only want to have a no-strings relationship?”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t be interested in that?”

Jack sat back and thought. What was she offering him? No-strings sex if they hit it off? Or was she saying it could never lead to anything else? Something itched at the back of his mind, and he turned cautious.

“Nilla, are you married? Or involved in some way that would keep you from having a committed relationship with me?”

“Oh no…no! Geez, Rider, do you think women can’t pursue simple, uncomplicated lives? I am just saying, you and I can avoid messy emotional entanglements. Because we have met here, and we have already shared so much…I just think we should be clear about our expectations.”

Jack considered that. He wasn’t in love with her, he knew that. But he was intrigued by her, and he thought there was more than sex going on between them. Less than love, more than sex. Something in between. That seemed to be what she wanted. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wasn’t looking for commitment, either, though he was open to the possibilities.

“I think I understand. We can see if we are even attracted to each other, and go from there, gorgeous.”

“You don’t know if I am gorgeous or not. I could look like a frog.”

That had crossed his mind. He didn’t think so, but no matter what reptile, bird or fish she might resemble, if she could do half the things to him in real life that she could online, it would be worth finding out.

“Mmm. I like frogs. Especially their legs. Very tasty.”

“Well, then, I suppose we have to talk about this, set something up?”

“I guess for starters, what is your real name, Nilla?”

“Let’s not share too much here—we can find out names and those kinds of details when we meet. Tell me what you’ll wear, so I can recognize you. We can meet at a restaurant or something. Plus, I may bring a friend, if you don’t mind.”

Jack felt a stab of disappointment, but realized she was going by the book, and he was glad for it. It was smarter not to share names just yet or share any physical details about herself. Anyone could easily locate you that way, or simply go about prying into your life.

“Sounds good. I’m thirty-four, about six foot, one-ninety, and I’ll wear jeans, a brown leather jacket and a Red Sox cap. That’s pretty much what I wear everywhere. Friends are fine. Maybe I’ll bring one, too. Your turn.”

Raine stared at the screen and felt her mouth go dry, her imagination filling in the rest of the details. So far, this was sounding very, very good. And he hadn’t balked at meeting in a public place, or with friends—that was a good sign. Then she laughed.

“Okay, well. I just turned thirty-two last month. I don’t know what I’ll be wearing, but I’ll put a rose in my hair, so you’ll know me that way.”

“When? Make it soon.”

Raine smiled at the sexual intensity he could communicate in so few words, and began to feel a deep sense of anticipation soak into her, right to the bone.

“Yes, soon. But I don’t even know where you live. Red Sox cap? Are you in the northeast?”

“Yep, live north of Boston. On the coast, just below Gloucester.”

Raine practically fell over in shock. They were neighbors! She’d figured he was in the same time zone because they were always online at the same times, but she hadn’t thought he would be that close. That could end up being either a very good—or a very bad—thing. For now she would go with it being good.

“Hey, looks like we’re neighbors. I live in Salem, a bit of a drive, but not too far.”

“Less than an hour’s drive. I commute to work every day, so that is no problem at all. I can leave now, be there by ten.”

Raine felt her heart pound and almost told him to come.

“Tempting as that is, I think we should wait. But this makes it more convenient, at least. I’m glad. I thought you might be far away.”

“It wouldn’t matter. I would come anyway.”

Raine shivered and took the leap.

“How about this Saturday night, seven, at the bar in La Luna, on Pickering Wharf. It’s a nice place but not too formal. Great food, if nothing else works out.”

“Okay. Let’s make it six—we’ll have a drink before dinner.”

Raine watched the words travel across the screen and could hardly believe it. They were going to meet, to really meet. In person. For real.

I stare into your luscious brown eyes. “Okay. So, in three days we’ll know.”

I pull you close to me. “It seems like forever. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive up tonight?”

I run my fingers through your hair. “No, I am sorely tempted, but this is probably a better idea. And remember, it is just dinner—we can opt out at any time.”

Jack knew it was the right thing, though he was so hot for her he could barely imagine not touching her, or making some of what they had shared a reality. But she was providing an out for him, too. Just in case. And when he got there, if things were good, who knew what could happen? He had a feeling about this; he was willing to just go with it.

“Agreed. Just dinner—unless you beg me to go back to your place and engage in illicit activities.”

“You never know. Maybe it will be you doing the begging.”

Jack smiled. Desire raced through his blood and flowed through his fingers out into the words.

“I’d beg for you, Nilla, you can count on it. I’d like to drop to my knees in front of you, kiss your feet, taste the skin on the back of your knee, and then work my way up, slowly, taste you, run my tongue over you until you come with my mouth on you, until we are both begging. And that’s only the beginning.”

“Um, I am not sure this is a good idea….”

Raine swallowed, and tried to focus as her breath became shallow. The hunger she had been feeling for weeks was suddenly a little frightening. This wasn’t a game anymore; it was real. He was real. They were going to sit across a table from one another and have dinner and talk, and all that while they would both be remembering the secrets that had passed between them. She closed her eyes and tried to settle herself.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we should really discuss this, considering…”

“Nilla, tell me how you feel, how your body feels right now….”

Raine tried to think, and quell the heat pounding through her bloodstream. She wanted to back off, and knew she should, but sheer desire weakened her. She knew what she wanted, and reached down for the courage to ask him for it.

“Rider, your number. Give me your number.”

“What?”

“Your phone number, Rider, tell me. I’ll call you. I need to…hear you.”

Jack was shocked speechless as he contemplated her request. No, not a request, a demand. The idea of actually talking to her stole his breath, and he didn’t bother thinking about it, but just responded.

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart, yes. Here.”

Jack typed in his cell phone number.

“I’ll call you in a little while. I just want to shower and change out of my work clothes.”

Work clothes? He smiled knowingly, pure masculine satisfaction pooling in his heart. She had come directly to find him. He acknowledged her message, and signed off.

His house was suddenly incredibly still and quiet, and he could hear his own heart pounding. The wind howled outside the windows, and minutes slowed down as if he was drugged, the feeling of waiting for the phone to ring weighing down on him. God, she had taken him by surprise.

She was changing. She was taking a shower. He closed his eyes and imagined the hot water running over her naked, soft skin. Then she would put on…what? His imagination nearly drove him mad. By the time the phone rang, he had imagined her in everything from black dominatrix leather to pink lace—and then in nothing at all. His mind went still. He pressed the talk button, and was relieved to discover his voice actually worked.

“Nilla.”

Raine thought for sure she would pass out just hearing him say her name—well, her screen name, but the same difference. Low and smooth, it slid over her like hot lava, and she tried to sound calm in response.

“Hey, Rider.”

Her voice was like whiskey, hot and golden. He closed his eyes and let it ease over him for a moment before speaking again.

“It’s much like I imagined it would be.”

“What’s that?”

“Your voice.” He settled more comfortably into the chair, and smiled into the phone. “When we talked online, some times I imagined I could hear you, but the real thing is a million times better.”

Raine smiled. “It is. I love hearing you too.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “This is pretty intense.”

“Something tells me it’s about to get even more intense, Nilla.”

Raine felt weird being called by her pseudonym, and almost caved to the temptation to tell him her real name, but held back. That could wait. For now, this was good. She laughed, and almost didn’t recognize the husky, sexy sound of her own voice.

“Could be.”

“Um, Nilla, not to be too cliché, but exactly what did you change into?”

She laughed. “Rider, are you actually asking me what I am wearing?”

He laughed, too, a warm, husky, sexy laugh.

“You bet I am. You can’t leave a guy hanging like that and not expect him to go half-mad with wondering. Tell me, Nilla.”

Raine looked down, and nervously smoothed her hand up and down over her thigh.

“It’s no big deal…usually when I get home from work I shower and change into my comfortable clothes.”

“Tell me about them.”

Raine smiled, and shook her head. This was crazy. She had thought calling him might add the edge of reality and stem the passion that was quickly getting out of control online.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. Voice to voice, they were spontaneously combusting. She took a breath, and spoke, feeling a little silly, but pressed on anyway, remembering that Nilla would have no problem responding to this request.

“Flannel pajama shorts and a top. Cushy socks. Not exactly Victoria’s Secret, but soft, warm, and comfortable.”

Jack chuckled, intrigued by the thought of her cuddled in flannel, the cotton sliding against warm, soft skin, clean and smelling of soap and powder. The slight edge of shyness that came through her voice made him want to break through, to make her lose control and tell him what he wanted to hear.

“I wish I could smell you. I want to slide my hands along your skin, touching you. I want to know what secrets you are keeping under that flannel.”

Raine felt rather than saw the flush work its way over her body, his voice setting off pins and needles of passion on her skin. She tried to speak normally, but her breath caught, betraying her response.

“Rider, I think we should just talk, we probably shouldn’t…”

She could almost see his naughty grin as he spoke. “That’s what makes it so much fun, Nilla. Forget the shoulds and shouldn’ts for a minute. Just relax. It’s just me—Rider. Do something for me?”

“What?”

“Touch yourself—and tell me what you feel.”

Okay, stop the bus!

She was not prepared for this! Nothing in thirty-two years prepared her for this onslaught of what she wanted to do, which was completely in conflict with what she didn’t know if she even could do.

He was asking her to share something wildly new, and for her, something incredibly daring. It had been easy online. This was different. Way different. She closed her eyes, and couldn’t think of a single way to respond. He spoke again.

“It’s all right—we’ll go at whatever pace you want. It’s just that you are driving me crazy. The sound of your voice.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Nilla, don’t you know? You turn me inside out.” The words ground out of him and shocked her—frustration, desire, and control that came across clearly in his voice made Raine feel a bit faint. “Just hearing your voice has me close to coming, all I would have to do is touch myself. God, Nilla, tell me you want me to.”

Raine squeezed her eyes shut and almost dropped the phone, fumbling to catch it, and wished she had bought the speakerphone she had seen on sale a few weeks earlier. She was in a sexual twilight zone, nothing was real, and everything seemed to be magnified, every touch, every sound, every thought.

She pictured him as he existed in her imagination, sitting on the other end of the phone, needing her, wanting her. Fear and feminine power warred in her mind, and in her heart. She took a deep breath, and she let herself slide out of reality.

“Yes. Yes, Rider, I want you to touch yourself, to make yourself come. I want to help you, to be part of it.”

Jack slid one hand under the thick cotton of his robe, and let his head fall back on the chair as he slid his fingers over his swollen penis, rubbing his thumb over the dew that had accumulated at the head. He squeezed, sucking in a sharp breath, slowing himself down before it was all over too fast.

“Tell me, Nilla, talk to me…I’m aching for you….”

Raine turned off her light and quickly slid out of her clothes. She didn’t—wouldn’t—think about this. She just wanted to experience this moment of absolute letting go. She slipped back on her bed, not needing the covers. Her body was white hot and ready to go. She felt awkward as she spoke, but just said what she felt.

“I’m naked, Rider, I took my clothes off, and I’m on top of my covers, thinking of you and what you are doing. I wish I was touching you. I wish I could wrap my hands around you. Slide my mouth over you. I want to taste you.”

She heard no words in response, just a masculine groan of appreciation. Still a little unsure, but encouraged, she continued.

“I’m touching my knee, running my fingers over the hollows in the back. The skin there is smooth, and so amazingly sensitive…up the inside of my thigh…I’m so hot, Rider, I’m wet already…just thinking about you, what you are doing….”

“Jesus, Nilla, I want you, baby, please, I need this, don’t stop….”

“Tell me what you want, Rider, tell me where you want me to touch, where you would touch me.”

“Lick your fingers, make them wet, then run them over your stomach. Think of me kissing you there.”

She did as he said, and arched up toward the little paths of fire that danced along her skin, imagining his touch.

The small, kittenish sigh that traveled across the line made him smile, and he refocused, running his hand over himself slowly, imagining her hands, and what they were doing, what he could make them do.

“Nilla, cup your breasts, your beautiful breasts. Are they aroused?”

“Oh yes, Rider…oh, that feels so good. I want to come…come with me….”

“Hey, not so fast,” he purred into the phone, gaining control from her loss of it. “We have time…roll over on your stomach, Nilla.”

Almost drowning in swells of excitement, she mindlessly rolled over, and set the phone on the bed. She rested her head on the receiver, freeing her hands.

“There, Nilla?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Good…the blankets are so soft, so warm from the heat of your body. Imagine me, Nilla, behind you—I want to rub myself on you, slide my cock along where you’re melting for me. Do that, Nilla, touch yourself there, and think of me pushing inside, sliding into your heat. I’m so hard, so damned hard for you. I wish I could be inside you, Nilla.”

He was quickly losing the ability to talk at all, spurred on by her increasingly passionate sighs and moans. He heard her chanting his name into the phone, and pumped himself harder, faster, feeling the blood pool in his lower stomach, his body going taut as he neared the edge.

“Nilla, now…stay with me…I’m almost there, Nilla!”

She had never been so gloriously lost in her life, consumed by the voice on the phone, the hands on her body that barely seemed to be her own. She could only think of him, his voice, his hands, somehow at once bringing himself, and her, to pleasure, and she slid her fingers inside herself, finding the sensitive spot she knew would send her over, her cries filling the room and traveling over the line to touch him on the other side.

“Rider, yes…oooooh! Oh, God…”

Jack nearly dropped the phone as he listened to her give in to the throes, his taut body bowing as he fell sharply into his own release.

Raine smiled, listening to his guttural, animal sounds, wishing she could see his face right at the most intimate moment. She basked in hearing him lost in his own orgasm as the pulsing warmth of hers receded. Lying in the darkness, spent, her heart pounding against the softness of the cover, she murmured gentle encouragements, just sounds. His breath was still labored, then slowed; he was saying her name into the phone over and over again. Her body cooled, and she pulled the covers up over her, turning onto her back. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Rider?”

“Mmm. Nilla. Not quite back yet, sweetheart.”

She smiled, and kicked her feet on the bed a little, feeling amazing and powerful and feminine. Her body felt wired and relaxed simultaneously, and she couldn’t believe she had just had phone sex—really, really amazing phone sex. She laughed delightedly, making him smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing… I just feel so incredible. That was so much fun—I have never done that before.”

“Me neither. You inspire me.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet, maybe we should just do this.”

“No way, Nilla—no way are you getting out of this. Not now.”

Jack lay back, eyes closed. His body was a mass of conflict, at once sated and yet begging for more—for her, for real. Three more days.

“Yeah. And if this thing works out, Nilla, as they say, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

4

RAINE WATCHED Gwen crease her forehead as she studied the tarot cards she’d laid out in front of her on the table. Gwen had arrived at the door to drag her out for lunch. Gwen’s hair was freshly colored with purple highlights and glitter eye shadow to match. Raine was just happy the Goth days were over; she preferred Gwen colorful and upbeat.

They sat in high-backed booth seats at a favorite diner overlooking Salem’s pedestrian mall, soup bowls and coffee cups pushed to the side while Gwen turned out cards. Raine looked out the partially fogged window, watching people scurrying in and out of shops, rushing to get their Christmas shopping done.

Everything was decorated and cheerful. The sun shone brightly off the snow, almost blinding her with the glare. She was meeting Rider tonight, and the brightness of the day seemed like a good omen.

Gwen insisted on doing tarot readings for her once a month. Raine never so much as read the astrology forecasts in the newspaper, but today she was grateful for the distraction. It was a day for new adventures, and Gwen had shown up with her cards, so now the two sat eating lunch and peering into Raine’s immediate future. Raine munched her tuna sandwich absently and looked on.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

“First, the Chariot—that figures—he is traveling to see you, that’s kind of obvious. But the card is about being balanced, in control. It suggests a sense of purpose and direction. It’s a strong card. Maybe a very confident man who knows what he wants, or could be you trying to control the situation, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just something to think about. And—” she pointed to the next card “—then you have the Ace of Wands—kind of a sexy card, eh?”

Raine peered at the card that showed a club, or tree branch—a very erotic-looking tree branch—standing straight up against a sky, surrounded by ivy and flowers, and nodded. Really, it did look like an erection. Or maybe she just had penises on the brain. She shook her head.

“That one’s usually about new beginnings, creativity and sexuality. Good sign for getting laid.” Gwen grinned and pointed to the next card, which depicted a castle-type building with flames flying out of it, and people being tossed out of the windows into the crashing seas below.

“Hmm, this one might be a problem.”

“Looks ominous.” Raine wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

“Can be, but it’s more about life shaking us up, throwing us on our asses when we need it. There could be something really unexpected that will happen tonight. Could be good, or not so good. You had better just keep your radar sharp.”

“For what? A sexy guy with a big stick and a nice car who is going to surprise me somehow?” Raine smiled naughtily, and Gwen gave a hearty laugh.

“Good one. Let’s hope so. Now it gets interesting. This chick here—” she pointed to a picture of a woman standing blindfolded in the middle of a circle of swords “—the Eight of Swords, she is imprisoned by something—see how the swords do not circle her tightly? There are ways she could free herself if she wanted to. The blindfold suggests she may not be seeing things clearly.”

“Or maybe it means he is going to blindfold me.”

“I never looked at it that way. Hmm…and tie you up…”

“I was kidding, Gwen.”

“Hey, I’m not judging—everyone is into their own thing.” She ducked as Raine took a playful swat at her, and went on.

“But seriously, the cards can mean different things to different people—it’s obvious what’s on your mind.” She grinned cheekily. “Okay, then you have these last three. The Devil is what challenges you—not the devil like hellfire and brimstone, but this card can be a lot of things—obsession, darkness, or being hounded or harassed in some way. The Two of Cups follows, a card signifying what you should strive for, a meeting of the minds, coming together, emotional healing. Finally, the Four of Wands is your destination card—where you could end up—a very nice, a happy, successful card, celebrations and accomplishments. Maybe marriage. Kids, you know, the whole ten yards.”

“Bite me, Gwen.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She grinned, summing up. “So, the Tower and the Devil are still giving it all a pretty interesting slant, kind of intense—will be interesting to see what that is about, though sometimes it is nothing. I draw the Tower every month when I am PMSing.” She pursed her lips and looked up at Raine.

“As for the rest, looks like maybe you have some bumps in the road, a few explosions along the way—hey! I wonder if the Tower could be about orgasms? You know, lightning striking? Like getting thrown from the heights and into the waves of passion? I never thought about that—I like it! That would kinda mesh with what you see in the eight.”

“Well, it would be nice if you’re right about the orgasms.” Raine laughed and slid off the seat, thinking about her experience with Rider two nights before. She hadn’t told Gwen about that. “But I need to think about what to wear. Come help me, okay?”

Grabbing the check, she went to the counter to pay. Gwen left the tip on the table and followed her out the door into the brisk, bright air. “Okay, what to wear? Exactly how crazy do you want to make him on the first date?”

RAINE SAT on a stool at the bar feeling jittery and unsure. She swirled the little plastic stick around in her Manhattan, her hands cold even though heat from the whiskey had worked its way through her bloodstream and softly smudged her eyes and cheeks.

It was a little after six—this wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe he had arrived, seen her, and just left without a word—he might have considered fantasy a better deal than the reality. She made a point of turning her back to the door. She didn’t want to know when. If.

She looked down at her boots, swinging her foot. The soft black leather caressed her calf. The gray wool skirt had seemed sensible and still sexy, warm enough for the weather, exposing just a little leg between midthigh where the top of the boot met her knee. The deep green cashmere sweater was nice but not revealing, at least not in the obvious sense, though it clung to curves in all the right places and had attracted more than one admiring look when she had slipped off her jacket at the door. Gwen said the color emphasized her eyes, making them look like crystal-clear jade.

Raine took Gwen seriously, which not everyone did, at least at first. But Gwen was smart, and she had style. The two women had a deep respect for each other and that had been the basis of their friendship almost from the start. Gwen was really the first close friend Raine had ever had, and Raine thought of her almost like a sister, though she never told Gwen that. She wasn’t one for gushing her emotions all over the place. When it came to her own life, she was never quite sure where the lines were between people, what was allowed and what wasn’t. So she tried to err on the safe side.

Raising her fingers to the small pink rosebud that was clipped into her hair, she tried not to look at her watch yet again. Her nerves settled, her hopes started to fade, and she felt a little like a fool. Ten more minutes, and she would go home and forget about this for good.

JACK CURSED the weather. The drive had been much nastier than he had anticipated. The winter storm that passed by the night before had cleared out to sea, but it had left the roads slick and dangerous. Everyone was trying to get somewhere for the weekend, and he was caught in one traffic jam after another.

His feet were freezing, and as much as he was looking forward to meeting Nilla—to put it mildly—he was very focused on getting warm. If getting warm with Nilla was in the cards, even better. But for the moment, he was so cold even thinking about that didn’t warm him enough. A few miles back, a college student—driving too fast and too confidently for the conditions—had spun off the road into a snowbank, directly in front of him.

The kid was not hurt, but was not getting out of his predicament alone, so Jack climbed into snow up to his thighs to help dig the car out. He lost his beloved Red Sox cap in the wind, watching it whirl away into darkness. Jack sent the kid off again with a growling warning about driving more slowly before he killed someone else or himself.

Though he had managed to brush off most of the snow, his pants were still a little damp. He was tired, hungry, and he seriously needed a drink.

He spotted the restaurant and pulled into the first available parking space. The place was hopping, even at this early hour. He glanced at his watch. He was only fifteen minutes late, not too bad, all things considered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, glad to shut the engine off and concentrate on why he was here.

Reaching for the flowers he had brought with him, he shook off the agitation of the drive. His jacket was covered with salt and sludge, so he left it in the back seat and grabbed a fleece he had lying there.

The night was clear and cold, and his heart was thudding deeply in his chest as he approached the restaurant. This was it. In another minute he would be looking at, handing these flowers to—touching—the woman who had been the focus of his dreams, waking and sleeping, for the last month. He steadied his breathing and walked through the restaurant door.

He spotted her immediately, from the back. Seated at the bar, she was turned about three-quarters away from him, blond hair flowing down her back, a pink rosebud tucked sweetly behind her ear. Not white for purity, not red for passion, but something in between.

Jack watched quietly as she leaned forward and laughed quietly with the bartender, who was pouring her another drink. The soft line of her jaw entranced him, and he stared, losing all sense of time or place. He frowned for a moment, feeling a prick of recognition, but ignored it.

He forgot that he was cold, hungry and tired as he took in the graceful curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder and the way her hair tumbled down over the womanly shape of her back. He flexed his fingers, imagining wrapping his fingers into it, getting tangled in all those silken strands.

His mouth went dry as he followed the length of her body. She sat saucily on the stool, legs crossed at her very beautiful knees, the black leather boots offering only a hint of leg, making him lick his lips. Thank you, heaven.

The bartender walked away, leaving her with her drink, and he saw her look at her watch, and observed how her shoulders lifted and fell slightly in what must have been a sigh. Taking a deep breath for courage, he stepped forward, quickly covering the space between them.

He stopped and caught his breath when she suddenly spun around and slipped down off the stool, face-to-face with him. He stood stock-still, disbelieving, his brain and body frozen in shock. It was only a matter of seconds, but it seemed like seasons passed. She looked at him squarely.

“Oh. Jack. Hi.”

She didn’t appear shocked to see him, though she was less than thrilled, obviously. He realized she had no idea that he was there to see her. He didn’t—couldn’t—say anything. He watched her lean over, grab her purse, then her jacket. She looked miserable. She thought she’d been stood up.

Conflict raged as he realized his out—he could let her think that her date was not coming, and just walk away. But when he saw the disappointment in her face, he couldn’t do it. Not that the alternative was going to get a much better response.

“Um…yeah…” He had never been so truly lost for what to say. It was a cruel trick of the universe that the woman he had been dreaming about, sharing such intimacies with—hell, getting off on the phone with—was her.

His brain still refused to process this new situation, but as she walked past him toward the door, he spontaneously reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned and looked at him, confused, and maybe a little peeved.

“Excuse me?”

There was only one way to deal with this, he figured. Jump right in. “I’m sorry I’m late.” His slightly strangled voice did not sound like his own. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind and removed his hand from her sleeve.

“Jack, I have no idea what you are talking about, but it looks like you have a date.” She tilted her head at the flowers. “If you’re late, you’d better get moving. Good night.” She turned toward the door again.

He sighed, and took the leap. “You’re right. I do have a date. With you. Nilla.”

She stopped and turned slowly to face him. He watched disbelief, and then shock, cross her features. She had such an expressive face. Not saying anything, she just stared at him, her cheeks reddening. She dropped her purse, and looked as if she wanted to slap him.

“You! Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. No joke. I’m Rider, and you, apparently, are Nilla.”

She just stared, and Jack took her elbow, steering her to the bar again, to sit.

“Let go of me!”

“Fine. This is not exactly what I expected, either, believe me.”

She was still too horrified to really hear him or process what he was saying to her—this was the man she’d had been sharing her intimate fantasies with? Jack, the guy from her office, was the mystery man she had phone sex with?

Her heart sank into a pit of humiliation. She had helped him have an orgasm over the phone the same day they had exchanged swipes just a few hours earlier in her office! How could this be? He must have known. He must have set her up somehow; this must be an office prank. Her fingers tightened painfully on the edge of the bar.

“Can I get you another drink? I could sure use one.” His voice was resigned.

“I don’t think so.”

“Have it your way.”

He signaled the bartender and ordered a brandy, and they both sat there silently, looking dumbfounded. When she spoke, her voice was accusing.

“Why aren’t you wearing the clothes you said you would? The Red Sox hat, leather jacket? Were you trying to trick me?”

“Hardly. I had some trouble on the road, lost my hat and ruined my jacket. What do you take me for, anyway?”

“I don’t know what to think about this. I mean you…we…”

He watched the emotions play over her face, and felt like a cad, even though he had not done anything wrong. He sipped his brandy, trying to think of what to do next.

“We have reservations. What do you say we make peace, laugh it off, and go have dinner? We could at least talk about it. You have to admit, this is one hell of a coincidence.”

“I’m going home.” She got up, walked toward the door then outside. How could she stay? How could she let him see how devastated she was? She would not—not—let a single tear escape, though it seemed as if several thousand of them were threatening.

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