“It’ll never work, Jana,”

Ben said with renewed confidence.

“Yes, it will.”

Her strictly professional argument crumbled like dust the instant he dipped his head to nuzzle her ear. He slid his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply. She issued a sexy little moan and wrapped her arms around his neck. Victory had never tasted sweeter.

“Couldn’t this be construed as sexual harassment?” Jana whispered.

“Nope, you kissed me back.”

“I admit working together won’t be easy,” she said. “But I won’t reassign the case. Business and pleasure can’t mix—that much is obvious. Once I file my report, we’ll see what happens. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He knew business and pleasure shouldn’t coexist, but no way was he going to wait until she concluded her investigation to have her in his bed. In fact, Ben believed that once he proved his point—that work was nowhere near as gratifying as their mutual satisfaction—she’d wing the case off to another investigator pronto.

His smile widened at the thought of all the tantalizing possibilities and pleasures ahead.

Dear Reader,

When I started writing the SOME LIKE IT HOT trilogy I couldn’t help but wonder if I should have my head examined. Could I really handle such a daunting task? For months I would be living with these characters and no others. By the time this month’s sexy installment was near completion, I was deeply saddened to see these people leave. The Perry brothers had been with me for such a long time and were such an integral part of my writing life, it was almost impossible to say goodbye to Cale, Drew and Ben.

This month I give you Under Fire, and our final hero, Ben, in my sexiest Temptation novel to date. Not only do Ben and Jana heat up the pages, but Ben has definitely met his match when he’s faced with someone even more strong willed than himself—the woman he learns a little too late is about to change his life.

I hope you’ll join me again in December for my first novella in a very special Harlequin Blaze release, Stroke of Midnight (#114), a supersexy anthology with talented friends and fellow Blaze authors Carrie Alexander and Nancy Warren.

I would love to hear from you and know what you thought of the SOME LIKE IT HOT books. Please write to me at jamie@jamiedenton.net or P.O. Box 224, Mohall, ND 58761.

Happy holidays,

Jamie Denton

Books by Jamie Denton

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

942—SLOW BURN*

946—HEATWAVE*

Under Fire

Jamie Denton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Melissa

The joy you bring our family is truly a treasure.

You will always hold a special place in our hearts.

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

“YOU’VE NEVER had a what?”

Jana Linney sank lower in her chair. What was the big deal? It wasn’t as if she’d told her two closest friends she was a virgin, for crying out loud.

She glanced toward the back of the bar, praying the drop-dead gorgeous hunks seated around the table in the far corner of the Ivory Turtle hadn’t heard Chloe Montgomery’s astonished outburst. “I don’t think they heard you over at the pool tables,” Jana muttered.

She should have known better than to order something other than her usual glass of white wine. Bucking tradition wasn’t her style, but the new case she’d been assigned prior to leaving the office for the weekend had her as tense as a bowstring. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t sweat the assignment, but on the heels of her recent promotion, the stakes had been raised.

One glass of wine and she easily maintained and enjoyed the barest hint of a buzz. One Screaming Orgasm with an overdose of vodka and she might as well have shot herself full of sodium Pentothal. Whenever she opened her mouth tonight, just about anything came out…very personal anythings, too.

“Oh, forget the crowd at the pool tables,” Lauren Hudson, a voice-over actress, chided with a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “I want to know how you’ve managed never to experience an orgasm?”

Not for lack of trying.

“I just had one.” Jana giggled at her own joke. “A screaming one, too.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Eighty-proof,” she said, tapping a hot-pink, dragon-lady fingernail on the rim of Jana’s glass, “does not count.”

“You’re not a…” A pained expression entered Chloe’s lavender eyes. Today at least her eyes were lavender. Tomorrow they might be green or even a dark chocolate-brown, depending on Chloe’s mood and which shade of colored contacts the corporate attorney chose to wear. “Good Lord, Jana. Please tell me you’re not a virgin.”

Jana sighed dramatically, then took a very long sip of her drink. She might as well have been, considering her inexperience in the sexual revolution. “I’ve had sex,” she said defensively.

“Obviously not good sex.” Lauren’s bluntness usually amused Jana. Tonight that honesty irritated her. Especially since her two dearest friends were closing in on a very personal, and way too sensitive subject.

She and Lauren had been best friends since elementary school, but they hadn’t met Chloe until their first year at Beverly Hills High. Since then, the three of them had formed a tight-knit circle that spanned braces, boys and good ideas gone bad which had often landed them in minor scrapes.

The sound of male laughter drew Jana’s gaze back to the group of incredibly handsome hunks at the round table near the rear of the bar. One of them stood, the one with raven-black hair, broad shoulders and lean hips. Even from a distance she could see he had the kind of body advertisers clamored for in those abs-of-granite-type commercials.

Ooh, flex for me, baby!

He glanced her way, his ice-blue gaze meeting hers for the space of a heartbeat before he said something to his buddies. Her stomach dipped and swirled, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the type of alcohol she’d consumed during her Friday-night happy hour ritual with Chloe and Lauren. Unfortunately, the spell was nowhere near broken when he walked away from the table and headed in her direction.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the rattle of Lauren’s bangle bracelets followed by her perfectly pitched voice, but Mr. Tall, Dark and Wonderful had Jana’s full attention as he wound his way around the crowded tables, drawing closer. He wore a dark hunter-green banded-collar shirt which clung to his wide chest, and tapered down to a flat stomach she had no trouble imagining was washboard lean. The rolled-up sleeves emphasized luscious, muscular forearms, causing her to wonder what it’d be like to have him hold her close.

He strolled past, awarding her with a view of his backside, hugged quite nicely by a pair of tan khakis. She sucked hard on her straw. The man’s rear end was sheer perfection.

It was the alcohol, she reminded herself. She’d obviously had far too much to drink if she were ogling a man. Except she couldn’t pass off the sudden increase in her pulse rate on a single Screaming Orgasm. She stifled a giggle. At least not from the kind served in a glass by a harried cocktail waitress.

She made a sound deceptively reminiscent of an unladylike snort. As if I’d know the difference.

“Earth to Jana.”

Once Mr. Wonderful disappeared from her view, she turned to face Lauren. “What did you say?”

“I asked how is it you’ve never had an orgasm?”

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Jana set her empty glass on the damp napkin. “One—maybe even both—of you must have had sex without achieving an orgasm at least once.”

Chloe laughed in that cynical way of hers, a cynicism born of being drawn to the wrong men and having her heart trampled one time too many. “If the guy’s a selfish jerk or just plain lousy in bed, sure. But come on, Jana. Never?”

“What about when you’re alone?” Lauren asked her.

“Alone!” She hadn’t meant to sound so shocked. Really, she hadn’t.

Chloe’s mouth fell open and she exchanged a look with Lauren before turning her attention back to Jana. “You mean you don’t even…?” Her voice faded, as if she couldn’t bear to say the word.

Jana’s gaze bounced between her two friends, not knowing what to say. Obviously her silence was enough of an answer for Chloe.

“I guess if you don’t know what you’re missing,” Chloe added with a shrug, “then what’s the point?”

Lauren thought about that for a minute before nodding in agreement. “You might have something there.”

Jana considered signaling the waitress for another drink, but decided against it. Who knew what would come out of her mouth if she downed a second Screaming Orgasm?

“What you need is a man,” Chloe proclaimed suddenly.

“She needs a good man.” Lauren punctuated the clarification with soft laughter. “A really good man.”

Jana straightened and pushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “A man is the last thing I need,” she said, giving them both a stern look and hoping they’d take the hint.

She hadn’t exactly sworn off men, but after the somewhat unpleasant end to her last relationship, she was in no great hurry to leap back inside the dating circle. Not that free-spirited Lauren or use-’em-and-abuse-’em Chloe would understand, but Jana had decided to take advantage of the emotional downtime to focus solely on her career in public administration.

Her decision had paid off, too, since she’d finally landed a promotion to supervising investigator for the Occupational Safety and Health Administration’s Fire Investigation Division. Unfortunately, that meant her next assignment, scheduled to begin Monday morning, would be under close scrutiny. And just her rotten luck, she’d drawn the absolute worst possible case.

The reminder of the upcoming assignment had her signaling the waitress for another round. She usually enjoyed her job investigating industrial accidents and recommending changes that would keep employees safe from harm. Occasionally, she was called as a trial expert, and while she loved a challenge, she much preferred her work in the field. Still, she’d rather testify as an expert witness in a thousand court trials than be the unlucky OSHA investigator to draw a case involving a fatality, such as the one she’d been handed that afternoon by her supervisor. Not only did she have to face the sadness and heartbreak of a fallen firefighter, but every single OSHA investigator understood that that special brotherhood had a unique bond that was as unbendable as iron. She’d bet the crew of Station 43 would be no different, either. Gathering information surrounding the incident would be difficult under the best of circumstances. With a fatality involved, she’d have an easier time trying to walk uphill in a mud slide.

“Not a man in the relationship sense,” Lauren said, drawing Jana’s attention. “In the you-need-to-experience-sexual-satisfaction sense.”

“Forget it.” When Jana was ready, she’d find her own dates. She’d been subjected to Lauren’s blind dates since high school, and she’d had enough to last her a lifetime and beyond. When it came to men, she and Lauren operated on vastly differently levels. “I think I’d rather be celibate.”

“Since she doesn’t have a man in her life, how do you propose she accomplish this feat?” Chloe asked.

As if on cue, Mr. Wonderful sauntered into Jana’s line of vision. He stopped at the jukebox, braced his hands on the glass and bent his head to read the selections.

Like a magnet, he drew her attention and held her prisoner.

Hello, gorgeous. Care to help me solve a little problem?

“We’ll find her one,” Lauren announced.

That got her attention. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Wait a minute, sweetie. We’re not proposing you go on the hunt for a relationship, just find a guy that knows how to…make a woman happy.”

“Not we,” Chloe corrected Lauren. “You.”

Jana didn’t care who came up with the idea, it was still nuts. “A one-night stand?”

“Sure.” Lauren shrugged carelessly. “Why not?”

Jana could think of a few reasons. First, it wasn’t her style. Second, it could be dangerous. Third…Her gaze slipped back to the gorgeous specimen still at the jukebox. “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t really considering Lauren’s crackpot plan, was she?

Of course not. Despite the stubborn streak that sometimes got them into trouble, Linney women simply did not entertain one-night stands. They were trained in the values of appropriate ladylike behavior practically from the cradle. No wonder she’d never had an orgasm. She and her sisters had probably been sent subliminal messages while in the womb.

She allowed her gaze to slip over to him again. He remained in front of the jukebox, reading the music choices. Something must have stirred his interest because he slipped a bill into the slot then made a selection. She smiled when the first strains from one of her favorite Alan Jackson songs filtered through the speaker system. What would it be like to make love to a man who appreciated the same soulful music she did? Would he be gentle? Caring? Would he put her needs before his own?

Jana snagged the Screaming Orgasm before the waitress set it in front of her, then took a long drink. What was she thinking? Not only was the thought of a one-night stand completely foreign to her, she couldn’t remember ever fantasizing about a total stranger…until him. In fact, now that she thought about it, she’d never fantasized about any man.

“What’s to know?” Chloe slipped the waitress a twenty, then waited until she’d disappeared before continuing. “You find someone you think is attractive, you get his attention, you flirt then you seduce him right out of his B.V.D.s.”

Jana zeroed in on Mr. Tall, Dark and Hunky again. What good would it do? There was probably something physically wrong with her anyway. Some sexual glitch that prevented her from experiencing the ultimate fulfillment. Or maybe, as her friends had suggested, she’d just been sleeping with the wrong men.

Oh yeah, that was it, she thought sarcastically as she downed more of her Screaming Orgasm. Although she didn’t necessarily believe in all that glass-slipper propaganda, she wasn’t exactly a card-carrying member of the men-are-pigs-society, either.

She’d had her share of relationships. Did it really make a difference that she could count them all on one hand, starting with the out-of-character fling she’d had with the local bad boy the summer before she left for college? The best thing she could say about her first sexual experience was that it had been over quickly. She’d been saved the humiliation of having to face Brad Hilliard again when she, Lauren and Chloe had left for Arizona State University two days later.

She’d even had a serious relationship in college. Although she rated Everett Copeland a two on the knowing-how-to-please-his-woman scale, she probably would have married him if he hadn’t transferred to Florida State his senior year.

Truth be told, she was great at relationships. She’d never heard a single complaint about her own skills outside of the bedroom. The problem always started when her lover resorted to drastic measures to bring her to orgasm, then blamed her when she didn’t achieve one.

She didn’t think she was frigid, because she did become aroused. When it came time for the payoff, however, the big bang fizzled faster than a Fourth of July sparkler. Thanks to repeated viewings of When Harry Met Sally she’d learned how to fake it. Meg’s character hadn’t lied; a man really didn’t know when a woman was putting on an act to salvage his sexual self-esteem. At least, her last two boyfriends hadn’t noticed, but they had been self-absorbed types, so they probably didn’t count anyway.

With her gaze still locked on the delicious-looking backside of Mr. Wonderful, she asked her friends, “How do you know if a man is going to be, you know, unselfish?”

Lauren laughed. “The size of his hands.”

With the icy drink still clutched in her own hand, Jana zeroed in on the hands braced on the edge of the jukebox. They were long, lean and deeply tanned.

“I thought it was his feet,” Chloe added.

Ladylike or not, Jana’s curiosity got the better of her. She tipped her chair back on two legs and craned her neck to get a look at the size of his feet.

“Feet?” Lauren exclaimed.

Jana flinched and nearly toppled backward. Chloe steadied her, saving her from an incredibly embarrassing moment. Nothing like falling at a man’s feet, she thought.

“No way.” Lauren looked over her shoulder toward the jukebox, then turned to Chloe and smiled. “Terrance wore size-fifteen shoes,” she said. “Trust me, it’s the size of his hands. From the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger.”

With a mountain of willpower, Jana refused to look in the direction of the jukebox again, although she was dying to see for herself the length of the man’s hand.

“I always thought it was in the way he treated a woman,” Jana mused. “You know, kind, gentle and sensitive to a woman’s needs in bed.”

Chloe lifted an arched eyebrow. “You want a real man in your bed, or Richard Simmons?”

“At least Richard Simmons would care about your feelings,” Jana muttered, then took one last sip of her drink before setting it aside.

“Forget feelings,” Chloe told her sagely. “It’s pleasuring your body that counts in a one-night stand.”

Lauren braced her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “Some men are just better lovers.”

“But how do you know?” Jana turned slightly in her chair. “What about him?” she asked, inclining her head slightly in his direction. “Would he be…?”

“Good in bed?” Chloe finished for her.

Jana nodded.

Lauren shot Chloe a sly glance, then grinned at Jana. “Why don’t you go find out?”

Jana coughed. Good thing she hadn’t been inhaling more of her drink, else her friends would’ve gotten a vodka, triple sec and whatever else shower. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” Lauren shook her head. Under the brightly colored lights of the Ivory Turtle, Lauren’s platinum curls were a neon rainbow of color. “I’m not kidding. Why don’t you go over there and ask him?”

Jana couldn’t say what exactly had gotten into her, although she was highly suspicious it was the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. “I could, you know. If I was interested. Only I’m not.”

Chloe arched that brow again. “Sure you’re not. And you didn’t practically fall on your back trying to get a look at his butt, either, right?”

“I was not looking at his…at his behind. I was attempting to gauge the size of his feet.”

“See?” Lauren said, sounding way too chipper for Jana’s peace of mind. “I knew you were interested.”

Jana lifted her hands in defense. “Okay, okay. I admit it. He’s good looking.” Understatement of the century. “That doesn’t mean I want to go to bed with him. I don’t even know the man.”

“That’s the point of a one-night stand, Jana,” Chloe spoke slowly, as if Jana were mentally challenged. Sexually challenged, yes. That she couldn’t deny.

“It’s only supposed to be about sex,” Lauren added.

Chloe grinned. “Stress-free sex.”

“Tension-relieving sex,” Lauren threw in and laughed.

He made another selection from the jukebox. “Hot sex,” Jana whispered as she envisioned his hands undressing her, gliding over her body. Lack of personal experience at fantasizing prevented her from taking the fantasy all the way. Oh, and how she wanted to actually go there and experience being swept away into a wild vortex of intense pleasure.

“Too bad you’re not interested,” Lauren said. “He looks like he’d be real good, too.”

Jana frowned and turned to look at her friend. She moved a tad too quickly and the room tilted for a split second before righting itself again. “What do you mean he looks like he’d be real good?”

Lauren shrugged. “He’s got the look. Doesn’t he, Chloe?”

Chloe reached for her drink and looked in his direction. “Hmm,” she practically purred. “Absolutely.” The lazy Southern drawl she usually tried to mask suddenly became more prominent.

“Back off, Scarlett,” Jana warned good-naturedly. “I saw him first.”

“Then do something about it,” Chloe told her. “For once in your life, let your hair down and enjoy yourself.”

“I enjoy myself,” Jana tried to sound convincing.

“If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Lauren reminded her. “Go for it, Jana.”

Jana glanced his way again. Boy, was she ever tempted. But… “What do I say? ‘Hey there, handsome. Wanna go somewhere quiet and turn up the heat?’ Tacky.”

She’d definitely had too much to drink, otherwise she’d never consider actually approaching a total stranger, no matter how sexually intriguing she found him.

Chloe let out a sigh filled with exasperation. “I told you, get his attention, flirt and just be receptive to whatever might happen next.”

Lauren leaned forward. “If he’s interested, he might even make the first move.”

“If he doesn’t,” Chloe added, “then it’s up to you.”

Jana reached for her drink and downed a healthy dose of courage. She set the glass down with a bang, having every intention of making a grand exit from the table.

She didn’t move. As much as she would like to, picking up strange men in a bar simply didn’t compute. “I can’t.”

A sly smile curved Chloe’s lips. “I dare you, Jana.”

Jana groaned. She hated this game. She really did. Whenever she was foolish enough to rise to one of Chloe’s or Lauren’s challenges, nine times out of ten Jana ended up regretting her own stubborn nature. Ladylike behavior or not, the one thing she’d never been able to resist was a dare. She had a two-inch scar from stitches on her backside as proof of her foolishness from the time her older sister Caroline had dared her to sneak out one night for a party they’d been forbidden to attend. They’d jumped a fence, and Jana’s shorts had caught on a loose wire that had penetrated the material and pierced her rear end.

Lauren leaned back and folded her arms. “I double dare you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” Jana warned.

Not to be outdone, Chloe ignored the warning and taunted her, “I triple, double-dog dare you.”

Everybody knew you couldn’t ignore a triple, double-dog dare. Doing so went against everything that was holy.

“Fine. You win.” Jana stood abruptly. “I’ll go talk to him, but that’s all I’m going to do.” Dare or no dare, she was not going to approach the man and ask him to be the next notch on her lipstick case. She made a quick adjustment to the brown leather belt cinched at her waist before she smoothed her hands down her slim, olive-green linen skirt.

Lauren stood, her bracelets rattling as she quickly undid the top three buttons of Jana’s blouse, revealing more than a hint of cleavage. “Now you’re ready,” she proclaimed with enough authority Jana didn’t dare close the buttons.

“Go,” Chloe ordered.

Jana spun around toward the jukebox. Mr. Wonderful turned at the same time. Their eyes met and held. Once again, her stomach dipped and swirled. Her palms started to sweat and her heart beat a frantic pace in her chest.

The barest hint of a smile tilted the corner of his mouth.

It was all the invitation she needed.

2

IF THERE WAS one thing Ben Perry didn’t need tonight, it was the attention of a woman. Unfortunately his steadily rising testosterone had given him other ideas the minute he saw a stunning, slender blonde with a body that put air-brushed supermodels to shame, headed straight for him.

Big, mesmerizing eyes, the color of rich jade, held his gaze with a determination and intensity that snared not only his attention, but jolted his libido with the force of a bolt of lightning. Before he had time to consider the consequences, he made the drastic error of encouraging her with a smile.

He stood in the middle of the crowded bar as if he’d been planted there, unable to look away as she neared. The teasing grin curved her full lips. She had the kind of mouth destined to stir a man’s erotic fantasies.

Okay, so a beautiful, intoxicating woman sparked his interest. A lot. That didn’t mean he had to act on the impulse. He hadn’t come to the Ivory Turtle looking for some fun for the night. In fact, he wouldn’t have come at all if Scorch and Brady hadn’t hijacked his pickup truck. Although he deeply appreciated their show of support after the emotionally charged week they’d all been through, he would’ve much rather spent the night alone in his quiet beach house.

He wasn’t like them; he didn’t feel the need to raise a little hell in a desperate reaffirmation of life in the face of tragedy. They all knew the dangers of the job, accepting and facing them on a daily basis. Despite stringent safety measures, accidents still occurred. The bitch of it was, this one had happened on his watch, to one of his men.

The blonde closed in on him, granting him the opportunity of an enlightening inspection. She was tall, more willowy than his first impression of her, with gentle curves and an intriguing sway of her hips as she walked purposely toward him. She was dressed conservatively for a Friday night, at least compared to ninety percent of the other female patrons. Her sleeveless blouse showed off the remnants of a summer tan and was tucked into a long straight skirt that fell just past her calves, shielding her legs from view. That didn’t stop his testosterone-induced imagination from running just a tad on the wild side. Sensible low-heeled brown pumps covered her feet, rather than the pair of CFM heels conjured by his wicked imagination.

She stopped in front of him, and her smile faltered slightly. Despite her height, the top of her head barely reached past his shoulders. He waited, wondering what kind of line she’d attempt to hand him, or if she had some unique approach to picking up guys in a bar. Not that he had anything against a woman who knew what she wanted, if he was in the market, which he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

“I hope this isn’t too clichéd.” Her silky, smooth voice was confident, belying the slight frown tugging her honey-blond eyebrows downward in a show of apprehension. “But, would you allow me to buy you a drink?”

His standard reply, a polite, thanks, but no thanks, hovered on his lips, until she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. He looked over the top of her head to the other two women he’d spotted at her table earlier on his way to the men’s room. The flamboyantly dressed platinum blonde gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, while the other, a cooler-looking brunette dressed in a jewel-toned silk blouse and dark slacks, crossed her arms and arched her brow in apparent skepticism.

He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Obviously, she’d either been coerced by her friends to approach him, or she was making good on some bet. Considering he’d been in on the giving end of similar antics himself, the signs were easy to spot.

The blonde turned to face him again, her apprehension clearly tangible now. She smoothed her palms down her slim skirt, then balled her delicate hands into tight fists. “You’d really be helping me out if you said yes.”

He’d reached his self-imposed two-drink limit over an hour ago, and quite honestly, was more than ready to go home for the night. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his brother Drew, just as he nudged Tom “Scorch” McDonough hard in the ribs, then pointed in his direction. Scorch had the audacity to whistle.

Just great, Ben thought. Could his timing be any more rotten? In no mood for the good-natured ribbing they’d surely hammer him with when he returned to their table if he blew off the blonde, he weighed his options. His youngest brother, Drew, would no doubt be the worst offender. Ever since he had surprised everyone by becoming involved in an actual monogamous relationship, the constant reminders of Ben’s sorry excuse for a love life had tripled, and had become twice as irritating. Even his other brother, Cale, and his new sister-in-law had begun to chide him gently about his single status, and they’d only returned from their honeymoon two days ago.

Against his better judgment, Ben decided a harmless drink with a beautiful woman was the lesser evil. Anything was better than being ragged on by the guys for allowing a looker like the one standing in front of him to slip through his fingers.

“Did you win or lose?” he asked her.

She tilted her head. A stray wisp of light-blond hair slid from the clawlike contraption holding her hair in place and brushed against her cheek. “Excuse me?”

“The bet with your friends,” he added with an inclination of his head in their direction. “Am I the prize or the parting gift?”

Her wide, kissable-looking mouth split into a full grin and she laughed, the sound warm and inviting. “You would definitely be the prize. Except it wasn’t exactly a bet.”

“No?” Damn, she intrigued him. Not a good sign.

“How about I buy you that drink and tell you about it?” she suggested.

He had nowhere in particular to go besides home, where he’d sit in the quiet, mulling the incident over and over in his mind, dissecting each and every move he and the others had made once they’d arrived on the scene. Nothing would change. The end result would remain the same, and he’d still have to come to terms with the probability that he could very well be the one solely responsible for the death of Ivan “Fitz” Fitzpatrick.

Suddenly, being alone held about as much appeal as a root canal. “Sure,” he heard himself saying. “Why not?”

Her eyes brightened considerably, as did her smile. “Jana,” she offered by way of introduction, then extended her right hand.

He clasped her small hand in his, impressed by the confident strength in her grip. “Ben.” No last names, he thought. Nothing too personal, which managed to convince him she wanted nothing more than to satisfy whatever wager she’d made or lost to her friends.

Her high-voltage smile faltered for a brief instant, and she pulled her hand away. “We’re in luck,” she said, indicating an empty booth.

Thankfully they’d be far enough away from his pals so she couldn’t discern their ribald comments or witness their raucous behavior. Not that he could blame them. It wasn’t every day he fell victim to a come-on by a beautiful woman.

He’d always had plenty of offers, he’d just never been all that good at lasting relationships. He dated, if a woman interested him enough to ask her out, but eventually they all moved on once they realized he wasn’t looking for emotional intimacy.

He had his reasons, and in his opinion, they were valid. After his mother had died when he was only ten years old, Ben had witnessed his father’s slow deterioration. Assuming the care of his younger brothers and attempting to shield them from the old man’s self-destruction had been tough, but he had learned a valuable lesson and had sworn he wouldn’t be like his father. Ben had been in his teens when he’d realized he had more in common with his mother, a woman who hadn’t allowed anything to interfere with what was really important to her. Something his father had resented so deeply he’d let it destroy him.

Physical intimacy, however, was another matter altogether, and had never been a problem in his opinion. In his experience with women, most of them wanted what he refused to give them—a commitment. His last girlfriend had accused him of being emotionally bankrupt because he hadn’t allowed her to clutter up his home with her personal things.

He caught the waitress’s attention as Jana slid into the booth. One drink, he told himself, then he’d thank her and leave. Granted, his body might be responding to the awareness starting to take hold, but just because she’d approached him didn’t necessarily translate to her wanting more.

More male laughter rose above the din, causing him to glance over his shoulder to the round table in the corner. Sure enough, his brother and friends were roaring with laughter. Ben didn’t care much one way or the other if they’d made him the butt of one of their jokes. They needed to blow off steam after the day they’d had. If he was the punch line, then he figured that was the least he could do for them.

JANA TOOK a slow, even breath in a vain attempt to convince her insides to stop jumping with nervousness. The hard part was over, and she had nothing to worry about—she hoped.

She smoothed her moist palms down her skirt again. All she had to do was get through one drink without making a total fool of herself. After a little inane, meaningless conversation, she’d hightail it to the relative safety of Chloe and Lauren and lie through her teeth that Mr. Wonderful was either too dull or gay.

So then why could she still feel the touch of Ben’s hand over hers? And what was with the electrifying warmth uncurling in her belly? All because she’d shaken his hand? Ridiculous. And tempting beyond belief.

“What about your friends?” she asked him as he slid into the booth opposite her.

He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. “They’re big boys,” he said with a chuckle. “I think they can figure it out for themselves, don’t you?”

Another round of raucous male laughter drifted toward them. Her mind took a definite left turn down a treacherous path as she imagined exactly what had been so uproariously funny. To her dismay, she felt heat creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks. “Yes, I imagine they can.”

Oh yes. She most definitely could imagine what they’d said, and couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment rising to the surface and nearly strangling her with dread. Dare or no dare, she couldn’t go through with it.

She inched toward the edge of the booth, preparing to make her escape before she humiliated herself further. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she said, trying to keep the edge of panic from her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” The urgent tone of his voice stopped her, but he still reached over the table and grabbed her arm before she slipped away.

“Don’t go,” he said, gentling his tone as he released her. “It’s okay. You don’t normally do this sort of thing, do you?”

She wanted to ignore the sparks skittering along the surface of her skin from his touch, but failed miserably. Her insides tingled, too, with acute awareness. When was the last time something like that had happened to her? Not in recent memory, of that she was dead certain.

“You mean pick up men in bars?” The laugh she managed sounded more caustic than casual, but she slid back to the center of the booth anyway. Apparently women were as ruled by their hormones as men were. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little,” he said with a confirming nod and a smile that reached his eyes, yet failed to chase away the shadows she suddenly sensed lurking there. “So why did you?”

A waitress appeared to take their order. Since Jana had bucked tradition enough for one night, she decided on a safe glass of chardonnay. “A dare,” she said, once Ben placed his order for a beer.

He settled back against the imitation leather booth. The laugh lines bracketing his eyes deepened, as did his smile. “A dare?”

“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly. “A triple, double-dog dare.”

His robust laughter salved her badly dented pride. “I haven’t heard that one since I was a kid.”

“Yes, well, no one ever said grown women had to behave rationally or exhibit maturity at all times.”

“That’s still tough, though, even at the ripe old age of…”

“Twenty-seven,” she told him, wishing she had as smooth a method for him to reveal his age. She figured he couldn’t be much older than thirty-two or three.

He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table-top, the smile still lingering on his handsome face. “Everybody knows you can’t back off from a triple, double-dog dare.”

“Exactly,” she said, relaxing somewhat. “Chloe and Lauren weren’t playing fair, but I had no choice.”

“Of course you didn’t. Your reputation was under fire.”

Jana reached into her purse for her wallet when their drink order arrived. “I’m so relieved you understand,” she said, paying the waitress.

He waited until they were alone, then asked, “Why did your friends feel they had to resort to such drastic measures?”

Because she’d found him incredibly attractive, and if her friends hadn’t dared her, she never would’ve approached him. Because now that Lauren and Chloe knew the truth, they’d stop at nothing to see she became one of the sexually enlightened. Because she really did want to see the size of his hands for herself.

“Ah, now if I told you that,” she hedged, “then I’d be putting the feminine mystique in jeopardy.”

“Risk it.”

Those two words, combined with the pure male interest in his magnetic gaze, had the power to send her into sensory overload, effectively obliterating her common sense in the process. “We were discussing orgasms.”

“I’m intrigued,” he said slowly. The deep, rich, velvety smooth tone of his voice made her think of whispered words lovers shared after midnight. Sated lovers.

She wished.

“I suppose now I have to explain why we were discussing orgasms?” From this day forward, nothing but a single glass of house wine—preferably white and boring—will ever pass my lips.

He shrugged his big, wide shoulders, and Jana reached for her wineglass, reminding herself not to gulp the contents. “I really should’ve ordered coffee.” She drained a third of her glass in one swallow. Forget name, rank and serial number. If she had the keys to Fort Knox, she’d hand them over.

“Because I’ve never had one,” she admitted, and she didn’t even blush.

Much.

Ben nearly choked on his beer. He stared at her long and hard, struggling to comprehend her outrageous statement. “You’re a virgin?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she blurted. “No. I’ve just never…” She shrugged. “You know.”

Heaven help him, he still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. In fact, he couldn’t believe she’d told him something so intensely personal. He had a million questions, but only one managed to get past his shocked-to-the-core mind. “Why not?”

She let out a sigh. “If I had the answer to that, then we probably wouldn’t be sitting here because there’d have been no need for Chloe and Lauren to issue that stupid dare.”

“Can I ask exactly what this dare consisted of?” An endless stream of sensual possibilities swamped him, all of which concluded with him, Jana, tangled sheets and bodies glistening from exertion—sexual exertion.

Her big green eyes widened. “Oh! No. Not that,” she said quickly. “Your virtue is perfectly safe with me.”

Disappointment nudged him. Especially with that tangled-sheet fantasy still going strong.

“So. Ben.” She made a huge production out of folding her napkin into a small triangular shape. “What is it you do for a living?”

“I think I’d rather hear you talk about orgasms.”

She reached for her wine, her slender fingers wrapping around the tall, slim glass.

He shifted in his seat.

“That does appear to be the hot topic tonight, doesn’t it?” she mused.

“It could be a very hot topic.” The only thing more dangerous than lust was ego, and both of his had just redlined.

Her eyes took on a sassy glint and she raked her nails over the damp napkin she’d been folding, shredding it.

He swallowed. Hard.

“Read any good books lately?” she asked him.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m trying to,” she said, then let out another sigh. “You never did tell me what you did for a living.”

He slipped his hand over hers, settling his fingers over her wrist. The rapid cadence of her pulse was a huge turn-on, not that he had far to go in that department. The night suddenly held a wealth of possibilities, and not a single one of them included him returning to his place alone for the night. He was starting to understand why people needed to reaffirm life in the face of tragedy. Maybe, for once, he could forget about being the responsible one, the one always in charge. Maybe Jana could help him forget.

“Let’s not talk résumés when there are so many other interesting subjects up for discussion. Like that orgasm you’ve never had, for instance.”

“Ooh,” she practically purred. “I bet you’re great at seducing women. Do you seduce a lot of women, Ben?”

He detected a hint of apprehension in her voice and understood the import of her question. “No,” he told her honestly. He’d never been accused of being a player. In fact, just the opposite. “Not a lot.”

The tip of her tongue slid across her bottom lip. His libido spiked.

She dropped her gaze and slowly twisted their hands until his was cradled, palm up in hers. She traced the tip of her finger over his ring finger as if feeling for an impression. She continued her inspection of his hand, spanning the length with her fingertips. A sultry smile curved her mouth. “Very impressive,” she said, her voice a low, throaty whisper.

Drawing his next breath took a concentrated effort. When she lifted her gaze to his, his heart stuttered dangerously at the desire he detected in her gaze. One word from Jana was all it would take for him to open the door to a night of incredible pleasure. A night he wouldn’t have to spend alone with his own miserable hide for company.

One word.

“Ben? Let’s talk orgasms.”

She’d just said the magic word.

3

“WHAT WOULD YOU like to know?”

Can you make the earth move?

Got any fireworks in your pocket?

Pertinent questions, Jana thought. At least in her painfully uninformed opinion. Darned appropriate, too, considering the sparks still skimming along the surface of her skin.

Risk it. Those two words held more meaning for her than Ben could possibly know.

“Well…” She drew in a deep breath, gathering more courage. “Are orgasms really everything everyone says they are?”

She hardly thought it possible to surprise him more than she already had with her earlier admission, but obviously the feminine mystique was hardly in danger. Not if she used the distinct hike of his eyebrows and the curiosity filling his pale-blue eyes as a barometer.

He took a long, slow drink from the amber bottle of beer clutched in his hand. “You seriously don’t know?” he finally asked. A dark lock fell across his forehead and he rammed his fingers through his hair to push it back in place. His hand stilled at the back of his neck a moment before dropping to the table.

She shook her head and twirled the stem of her wineglass. “Nope.”

“Not close?” His long fingers flexed, tightening around the bottle. “Not even once?”

Did he have to sound so shocked? “Well…” She considered her answer for a moment. “Maybe. Once.” She shook her head. “No. On second thought, I don’t think it was the real thing.”

He stared at her with that intense, icy gaze, as if she’d just spoken in a foreign language.

“You don’t think?” He laughed. Full, robust laughter that made her smile despite the difficulty she was having discussing her malfunctioning G-spot. “This I do have to hear.”

She held up her index finger and gave him a look of mock sternness. “Hold it a minute. I thought I was the one supposed to be asking the questions here?”

His grin deepened. “Yeah, but your answers to mine are very interesting.”

“More like embarrassing,” she muttered, then took a sip of her wine.

His expression sobered. “Don’t be embarrassed, Jana. Inexperience is nothing to be ashamed of.”

She set her glass on the damp napkin. “I never said I was inexperienced. There’s a difference.”

“Not if you’ve never had an orgasm,” he said as he leaned forward. “Your lovers must’ve been damned selfish.”

She cleared her throat. A sharp stab of self-consciousness pierced her, then she quickly chastised herself for being so silly. Ben was absolutely right. Why should she be embarrassed by their conversation or because she’d had lousy lovers? Tonight, she could say or do anything. It wasn’t as if she’d ever see him again.

“You must find this all very entertaining,” she said.

The color of his eyes deepened to the color of the ocean. “I have a feeling you’d be a very entertaining woman.”

The air practically crackled with electricity around them at his quietly spoken words. She felt a sharp tug of desire in her abdomen. “I was thinking the same thing,” she said brazenly, unable to look away. “About you.”

Oh, good grief, why not just write Take Me Now, Stud on her forehead in bright red lipstick? It’d certainly be direct, but nowhere near as fun and liberating as flirting so outrageously with such a gorgeous hunk.

A slow, lazy smile curved his mouth. He had such a great-looking mouth, too, with a full bottom lip she was dying to taste.

Her breath caught, then came out in a rush. If just the thought of kissing him nearly stole her breath, she couldn’t wait to see what would happen if she tried to cure her orgasm problem.

“You’re evading the subject again,” he teased. “Tell me how close you’ve been to having an orgasm.”

What she wanted was to tell him exactly how close she’d like to get with him. Past the clouds. Over the moon. Fireworks, bursting stars, the whole enchilada.

Or so she’d heard.

“Jana?” he prompted.

“I felt…” The tempting quirk of his lips combined with the husky note in his voice snatched her breath again, halting her capacity for rational thought. “Tingly,” she finally blurted.

“Tingly.” He repeated the word slowly, as if absorbing it with care. “Just tingly?”

She nodded. “Just tingly.”

He cleared his throat, then shifted slightly in the booth, leaning forward to brace those drool-worthy forearms on the lacquered table. “Anywhere in particular?”

Moon, stars and fireworks fizzled like an interrupted daydream when her cheeks heated as if she were a teenage virgin. “Now there you go again,” she chastised him. “Asking me to reveal the secrets of being a woman.”

He reached across the table, peeling her fingers from the stem of the wineglass one by one. Gently, he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the inside of her wrist. Awareness skittered across her skin as he lightly feathered his tongue against her pulse before releasing her.

“That kind of tingly?” he asked in a voice reserved for lovers.

A jolt of electricity shot to the tips of her breasts and sizzled, warming her entire body with the heat of immediate arousal. Exactly who was seducing whom here? Forget his B.V.D.s. Her suddenly moist panties were close to becoming history.

She cleared her throat. “Those were some pretty high-grade tingles.”

“So was I close?”

“You were beyond close.”

Satisfaction filled his expression. She’d probably just inflated his ego, times ten, but she didn’t care. When it came to tingles, the man was an ace.

“I’d say that narrows the field. So what exactly did you feel?”

Jana knew what she was feeling now, and she’d zipped right past tingle to outright arousal. When she’d first approached Ben, she’d had absolutely no intention of embarking upon a one-night stand. Now, she was no longer certain she possessed the willpower not to see how far this night would go.

She considered her last sexual encounter in hopes the reminder of what had never happened for her would derail her treacherous thoughts and halt their break-neck pace. It’d been nearly two months before she’d allowed the relationship to move to the next logical step. All in all, the experience had been…nice, she decided. Pleasant, even. She’d been turned on, but miles from the simmering heat Ben had managed to stir with that cute little tongue-on-the-wrist trick.

“After what you just did, I’m sure tingly was the wrong adjective,” she finally told him. “Maybe it was closer to how your feet feel when you take your shoes off at the end of a long, hot day. You know what I mean?”

His attempt to hold back a grin was obvious, but eventually he did. “Sounds more like relief than sexual gratification to me.”

She drained the last of her chardonnay, then shook her head when he attempted to signal for the waitress. “Considering that lack of sexual gratification is under debate here, it seems appropriate. Now, will you please answer my question?”

“Which was?”

“Is it really everything everyone says it’s cracked up to be?”

He settled back in the booth, looking completely at ease and oh-so-sexy. “Yeah. It really is,” he said with a slight inclination of his head. “With the right person.”

Dozens of erotic images cluttered her mind, each more enticing than the last. Images that all ended with three basic elements—her, Ben and the closest bed. “Tell me what it’s like.”

He regarded her with such close scrutiny, she started to fidget with her napkin, nearly knocking over her empty glass. She adjusted the set of her shoulders and aimed for a relaxed appearance. She almost succeeded, too, until he said, “What if I showed you instead?”

BEN TOOK the key to Jana’s apartment from her and slid it into the lock. He didn’t bother debating the wisdom of his decision or waste time with self-recrimination about allowing his testosterone to rule his actions. Even the twenty-minute drive from the Ivory Turtle to her place in Culver City had failed to lessen the need that had been clawing his gut since Jana had uttered those magic words—let’s talk orgasms.

Although his motives weren’t entirely chivalrous, he did feel a connection to Jana. Only, it existed on a level he understood and even welcomed—basic animal attraction. It’d been a long time since he’d experienced such an intense need to be with a woman. After the last few days of hell, he wasn’t in the frame of mind to summon an argument for why he shouldn’t exploit the sexual tension that had been simmering between them since the moment their eyes had first met.

At the very least, he had to taste her, see for himself if her lips were as soft and welcoming as he’d been imagining. And there was the issue of the near physical pain he’d been feeling since she’d slid from the seat of his pickup truck. Her long skirt had caught on the seat, hiking the length far enough upward to reveal slender calves and the barest hint of a shapely knee. Not much by way of exhibitionism, but still too incredibly sexy for him to ignore.

He unlocked the door, then turned toward her and handed her the key. The faintest hint of her unique perfume raised his awareness one more notch. His body flexed as he breathed in the exotic combination of floral and spice.

She moved in front of him to rest her back against the doorjamb. Desire brightened her gaze. Beneath the yellow glow of the light in the small alcove, he caught sight of the rapid beat of her pulse at her throat. The urge to press his lips to her delicate skin, to feel the staccato rhythm against his tongue, had him narrowing the already miniscule distance between them.

“Are you coming in?” Her husky voice, and the way her warm breath feathered against his lips, filled him with an anticipation not even a saint could ignore.

His gaze shifted from her throat to her mouth in time to see her tongue slide invitingly across her plump bottom lip. Daring him to taste her?

“Yes,” he said in response to her question. For once in his life, he refused to think about the consequences of a decision and how it would affect everyone but himself. For once, he chose to act purely on impulse. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek in his palm. “But first I’m going to kiss you.”

The corner of her mouth tipped into a seductive little half smile. “I was hoping you would.”

Forget hesitation. He didn’t bother with a tentative brush of his lips against hers. Gentleness failed when he covered her mouth with his, applying a slight amount of pressure with his thumb against her jaw, urging her to open for him.

He slipped inside. The warm silken glide of her tongue instantly mating with his sent a blast of heat south, hardening him in a flash.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, her purse hit the landing with a thud. The sound registered in the back of his mind. She held on tight, her gentle curves plastered against him, the swell of her breasts pressing enticingly against his chest. His hands itched to tease her nipples into tight beads. He wanted to taste the taut buds of flesh, explore them with his tongue, hear the soft, arousing moans of her pleasure.

Slowly, her knee rose, rubbing against the inside of his thigh. He nearly came out of his skin. Another three or four inches, and she’d have no doubt how much he wanted her.

The tension and events of the last few days began to ebb slowly, quieted by the silent, sensual demands of the woman in his arms. His sexual attraction to Jana had nothing to do with blowing off steam, or even reconnecting with another human in the most basic way imaginable. What drove him to taste her more deeply, to smooth his hands over her rib cage and upward to cup the weight of her breasts in his palms, stemmed from nothing more than demanding lust.

She ended the kiss long before he was ready to let her go. Little puffs of air fanned his lips as she tried to catch her breath.

Slowly, she lowered her arms and inched away, as if needing distance. Not wanting to break contact with her, he dropped his hands to her hips, preventing a complete escape.

Her lashes fluttered, and she drew in a deep breath. “Now would you like to come in for a while?” The strength and surety of her voice took him by surprise. He could’ve sworn she’d just been gathering her courage.

“Are you sure?” She might have agreed to his suggestion they go to her place where they could be alone, but he wanted, needed, to know she understood exactly what would happen once they went inside her apartment. The kiss they’d just shared had left him with no illusions of exactly what he wanted.

She replied by reaching behind her to shove the door open in invitation. He stooped to pick up her purse then followed her inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

She stood in the middle of the room, a slight frown tugging her eyebrows. Second thoughts? God, he hoped not. He’d never been a fan of cold showers.

A table lamp emitted a soft, buttery glow over the room from atop a square white table, flanked by a pair of blue-and-white, thick-striped chairs. He tossed her purse on the cushion of the matching sofa, then crossed the plush carpet to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

Jana’s brief moment of considering that she could be making an epic-quality mistake evaporated the second Ben’s mouth claimed hers in another bone-melting kiss. When she’d first approached him, she honestly hadn’t believed for a second she’d seriously consider a one-night stand with a man she’d just met. She couldn’t decide whether she’d been stupidly naive or unconsciously determined, but before she could solve the puzzle, Ben was gently guiding her backward until her bottom came in contact with the wall.

She slid her arms around his waist, her fingers spanning his rib cage. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, the muscle in his back flexed and danced at her touch, filling her with a unique sense of feminine power, rivaled only by the heated surge of arousal that had her squeezing her thighs tightly together. The coolness of the wall against her skin conflicted with the heat his body generated. He surrounded her, filling her senses with his taste, his touch, his scent. The brush of his fingers against her stomach as his hands tugged her thin blouse from the waistband of her skirt had a pool of something she couldn’t define—tension? need?—gathering in the pit of her belly.

The answer to a question she couldn’t even remember no longer mattered the moment the warmth of his hands cupped her breasts. Through the lace of her bra, he dragged his thumbs rhythmically over her sensitized nipples. She moaned and tore her mouth from his, her head thumping against the wall as she arched her back, desperate for more of his touch.

“Taste me.” Her harsh, whispered demand took her momentarily by surprise. She’d never been much of a talker during sex, preferring instead to communicate her needs with action. Could that have been part of her problem, she wondered?

He made a sound that rumbled up from deep in his chest, dissolving any remaining ability for coherent thought. The instant he dipped his head and gently nipped and laved the slope of her breasts, she forgot her doubts and concentrated on the urgency filling her. With agonizing slowness, he unbuttoned more of her blouse, then pushed the fabric aside until it gathered halfway down her arms. His mouth over her nipple, he suckled her through the lace. She cried out from the shock of such exquisite sensation.

Her breathing faltered, then resumed with short, hard pants. She couldn’t seem to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. The world tilted. No, it spun, she decided. Spun her right off the edge of reality.

She gripped Ben’s shoulders to steady herself. Too late she realized nothing could put an end to the crazy, chaotic wonder gathering with the force of storm clouds inside her.

He moved to the other breast and took her into his mouth. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she attempted to brace herself. Only she couldn’t. If she did, the incredible pleasure she felt by pressing her thighs together would end.

Ben straightened, but he didn’t stop touching her. His hands slid to her throat, then up farther until he cupped her face in his work-roughened palms. The appreciative look in his eyes alone did for her what no lover had ever accomplished; it made her squirm with a need so deep every square inch of her body hummed with anticipation.

Could Chloe and Lauren have been right? Was there indeed something absolutely liberating about making love to a man for the sole purpose of experiencing pleasure? Even the way Ben looked at her, with a heady mixture of awe and desire, stripped her of her usual anxiety, and filled her with a wild, reckless sense of abandonment. Tonight, she reminded herself, had nothing to do with performance, but only with absolute pleasure and gratification.

His.

Hers.

And no regrets, regardless of the outcome.

“I’m going to taste you.”

His words were an enticing integration of velvet and steel. Smooth, yet strong. Like his kisses. Or his touch. Comforting yet demanding.

“Every inch of your skin, Jana. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

4

EVERY INCH?

Jana had never hyperventilated in her life, but she supposed there really was a first time for everything. With any luck, an overload of carbon dioxide wouldn’t be her only first tonight.

No. She wouldn’t think about that. If she did, whatever magical, sensual spell Ben appeared to cast over her so effortlessly could easily break. Instead, she locked reality away and reached for the buttons on his shirt, pressing her lips to the warm, bare skin she exposed.

“So?” She shoved the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms, letting it drop to the floor. “What’s stopping you?”

With the tip of her tongue, she traced his flattened nipple then grazed it with her teeth, wanting him to experience the same delicious sensations running rampant through her. She tasted, laved and kissed a trail down his torso. A groan erupted from deep inside him, encouraging her.

Before she managed to taste another inch of the luscious length of his athlete-strong body, his hands gripped her upper arms. He hauled her against his chest, holding her tight. His mouth covered hers, coaxing, yet demanding with a sense of urgency that she open for him. A request she wouldn’t dream of denying.

Using his body to support her, he pressed her back against the wall again. His hands skimmed her breasts to settle at her waist. The hiss of leather rasped in her ears as he unfastened her belt and carefully withdrew it from the loops of her skirt.

Ultimate fulfillment might be a mystery to her, but she understood desire. She’d even delighted in the most fascinating tingles a time or two during foreplay. Yet her limited knowledge had never come close to the scrumptious way Ben was making her feel with only his caresses and kisses. Hot. Achy. Breathless. Craving what had always been elusive. An awareness so powerful, every nerve ending in her body came alive.

He unfastened the snap and zipper, then stepped back to push her skirt past her hips. The material slid down her legs like a sensuous caress to puddle at her feet. After toeing off her pumps, she kicked them and the skirt aside, then stood in front of Ben wearing only her matching white lace bra and panties, and a pair of thigh-high stockings. She’d expected to feel exposed, even a little self-conscious. The appreciation in his eyes effectively kept her doubts at bay.

“You are incredible,” he said with a reverence that obliterated any final shred of common sense she might have been considering. “Absolutely incredible.”

She smiled as she closed the few inches between them and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and moving her body against his. Friction, stimulated by heated male flesh and lace, rasped her nipples and sent an electric shot of warmth zinging down her spine.

Another tiny tremor shook her.

“Cold?” he asked.

She gently nipped his neck before tipping her head back to look into his eyes. “I’ve never been hotter.”

The color of his eyes deepened. “You keep talking like that, we’ll never make it to the bedroom.”

She gave him the most sensual grin in her pathetically small arsenal. “Nothing says we have to make it in the bedroom.”

With his arms around her, he slowly slid his hands beneath the elastic band of her panties to cup her bottom, drawing her even closer. “An adventurous woman. I like that.”

She arched her back and pressed her fanny into the warmth of his calloused hands. “Hmm,” she murmured as his fingers gently kneaded her flesh. “What else do you like?”

“Fantasies. Tell me your fantasy, Jana.”

She would, if she had one to share. She’d already admitted her sexual reality was a big fat zero. Her sensual self-esteem hardly needed a reminder she lacked the imagination to even conjure a decent fantasy. “I have a better idea.”

His hands inched down, moving with agonizing slowness toward her center. He dipped his head and caught the lobe of her ear gently between his teeth. “Tell me.”

Hot breath caressed her ear at the same moment the tip of his fingers brushed her moist curls in a feathery caress so light she couldn’t determine reality from one of those fantasies he kept insisting she discuss. Why on earth did he expect conversation when all she could think about was the most interesting sense of acute pressure slowly building inside her that kept her pressing her body toward his gently teasing fingers?

She pulled back slightly and reached for the clip still securing her hair in place. While he watched, she carefully removed the clip, then tossed it on the carpet next to her clothes and shoes. With a slight shake of her head, she freed her hair from the knot until it fell past her shoulders. “You show me your fantasy instead,” she quietly told him.

The sinfully wicked intent in his eyes had her catching her breath. “Tonight, you are my fantasy.”

She barely had time to absorb his highly erotic statement before he took both of her hands in one of his. He effectively pinned her against the wall by raising her arms just above her head, leaving his free hand to do whatever he chose. This was, after all, his fantasy.

He traced her mouth with the tip of his finger, then dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip before he gently moved downward to caress her throat. His lips touched where his fingers had been, then followed the same path as his hand. His caress and the moist heat of his mouth traveled southward, teasing the slope of her breasts, down through the valley of her cleavage.

The palm of his hand was hot against her skin, rough and calloused, yet tender and reverent in execution. He created a path of heat over her rib cage while his tongue, lips and teeth strayed to her breasts, creating more havoc with her senses.

Just when she thought she would go crazy from the need burning low in her belly, he released her hands and eased slowly to his knees. The heat of his mouth and tongue never left her skin, which had grown even tighter, hotter. She flatted her palms against the wall for support. He hooked his thumbs onto the sides of her panties and slowly pulled them from her hips, tasting the skin he exposed along the way with a veneration that had her heart squeezing just a little.

He tossed the lace panties aside, then, drew his hands upward along the backs of her legs, caressing her inner thighs. She nearly came out of her skin.

As if she were as delicate as a hothouse flower, he gently eased her legs apart. The earlier pressure returned, more forceful and twice as demanding the instant he touched her wet folds and slid his finger inside her.

Her breath caught, then expelled in a rush, carrying with it a deep moan filled with such an earthy sound, it took her by surprise. Sensation overruled thought with every stroke. All that mattered were the incredible currents of energy rippling under her skin and the demands of her body urging her onward toward…toward…

She closed her eyes and shoved reality behind the locked door again. Tonight she wanted the sensual ride to carry her as far as her body would allow her to travel.

She stopped thinking and only…felt.

The beauty of total arousal. The stroke of his fingers. Glorious tension. The press of his lips against her moist curls. Fire growing inside her. The glide of his tongue as it circled her most sensitive place.

She experienced it all and greedily wanted more.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

He expertly stoked the simmering warmth into a full-fledged inferno that made her hotter than ever before. The upsurge of the flames pushed her steadily closer to…to…

He stopped.

Her knees threatened to buckle, but his hands quickly shifted to her hips and steadied her. Her eyes flew open.

He stopped?

“No!” she cried out in protest. She reached for his shoulders, but he was already rising to his feet.

She shook her head. “No,” she said again once he stood in front of her. She didn’t care if she was pleading with him to finish what he’d started. How could he do this to her? She’d been so close, or at least closer than she’d ever been in her life. Dammit, she’d told him not to stop!

The man had the audacity to smile at her. “Why?”

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him through a half-dozen thunderous beats of her heart. “Why?” she finally parroted. Surely she didn’t have to explain it to him. He couldn’t possibly be that obtuse.

He nodded. “Why?”

If he stooped to pick up his shirt, she just might kick him square in the backside.

“Because!” Definitely not her most intelligent reply.

His smile deepened into a grin before he planted a hard, quick kiss on her still swollen lips. “Because you were so close to orgasm?”

She eyed him suspiciously. She had no idea what kind of game he thought he was playing with her.

One of his hands massaged her bare hip while he reached up with the other to smooth away the hair clinging to the side of her face, moist with beads of sweat. “Do you still want to know why it’s everything everyone says it is?”

If he hadn’t stopped, she just might have had the answer to her own burning question.

“Anticipation,” he said when she remained stubbornly silent. “Not just a build-up of physical pleasure and final release, but something so intense it heightens all of your senses.”

“If I was looking for intellectual stimulation, I’d read a book or attend a lecture,” she complained.

“Every single nerve ending in your body comes alive until you explode,” he continued as if she’d never spoken. “The languid, liquid warmth that fills you is purely physical. Seduction of the mind is just as important for complete sexual gratification. A total orgasm.”

“I would’ve been happy with half an orgasm.”

His lips twitched as he drew his hand over her shoulder and down her arm to lace their fingers together. “I could’ve made you come, Jana, but it would’ve been only physical.”

“You really want to go where no man has gone before?” She managed a barely-there laugh despite the sharp edge of frustration slicing away at her sensual psyche. “In order to get there, you were supposed to stay on the south route of Pleasure Parkway. What is it with men and directions, anyway?”

He smiled, but otherwise ignored her sarcasm. She couldn’t help herself. His arrogance was too sexy to ignore.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, then pulled his tingle wrist trick again. This time, she almost melted.

“I promise you,” he said, his deep, rich voice a husky rumble of sin, “I will give you everything you’ve been missing.”

“I DON’T KNOW if we’ll be able to use the condoms.”

If there was another woman in the world more sensual than Jana, Ben hadn’t met her. Or one that was as unashamed of her body, either, for that matter. Stark-naked, she stood in the doorway between her tastefully furnished bedroom and the small bathroom, the overhead light behind her silhouetting her curves.

He’d never been more turned on, or hard. He hadn’t exactly been filling her with a line of BS, but he’d intentionally brought a premature end to their lovemaking fifteen minutes ago and suggested they move to the bedroom for one simple reason—he’d been too close to losing control.

If he hadn’t stopped, he was ashamed to admit even to himself that he might have made a monumental mistake and made love to her without protection. He’d been coherent enough to realize that Jana had passed the crucial point of no return and was probably not in a state of mind to object.

“Why? How old are they?” He rested his back against the padded headboard, the floral sheet draped over his lap.

She turned to the side for more light and peered at the box. The quick stream of breath she blew on the box sent a puff of dust floating in the air around her. She sneezed.

“That old, huh?” He liked the idea she’d had a box of condoms in her bathroom long enough to collect dust. Arrogance? Maybe. Had to be, he decided. Anything else defied logic.

“Six months,” she said with a shrug. “Could be eight. Wanna hit that light?”

He turned on the bedside lamp, then waited for her to join him. She tossed the box of condoms in his direction; he caught it with one hand. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips as if she’d been doing it forever. After what they’d just done, shyness would be hypocritical.

“See if you can find an expiration date.”

He set the small box on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. “They don’t have the shelf life of Twinkies, but anything under a couple of years is probably safe.”

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