“So, you want to use me for great sex?” Ryan asked incredulously

“Would that be so bad?” Jessica asked, splashing him and playfully sticking out her tongue.

He chuckled. “Watch yourself, Jessie.” His eyes grew darker as his gaze wandered over her wet body. “I can think of several ways to put that tongue of yours to good use….”

Jessica drew back slightly, seeming a little startled by his blatant desire.

Noticing her withdrawal, Ryan joined her in the tub. “Now, don’t go getting modest on me again,” he teased, giving her a devastatingly sexy grin. “I need you completely uninhibited by the time we make love.”

“And just when do you think that will be?” she asked boldly, rubbing her bare shoulder against his chest.

He barely managed to resist the urge to kiss that sassy mouth of hers and take her, fast and furious, right there in the tub. Instead, he ran his finger down her cheek and said, “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll know…”

Dear Reader,

Seduced. The word alone conjures up all kinds of shameless possibilities, doesn’t it? Sensual temptations, forbidden pleasures. You’ll find all those and more between the pages of my latest BLAZE.

Ryan Matthews is a man who knows what he wants, and he’s wanted sassy, sexy Jessica Newman in his bed for more than a year. Now he’s going after her, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make her his…including seducing her in the most delicious, sinful ways! His very innovative “cake scene” is sure to make you crave something sweet, and his inspiring “couples gift” will no doubt leave you breathless. Seduction has never been so hot!

I’d love to know what you think of Seduced. You can write to me at P.O. Box 1102, Rialto, CA 92377-1102, or at janelle@janelledenison.com. I always write back! For a list of upcoming releases, check out my Web site at www.janelledenison.com.

Fondly,

Janelle Denison

Books by Janelle Denison

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

679—PRIVATE PLEASURES

682—PRIVATE FANTASIES

732—FORBIDDEN

579—CHRISTMAS FANTASY

799—TEMPTED

Seduced

Janelle Denison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the readers who’ve written to let me know how much they enjoy my stories. Thank you for your kind words and friendship. This one’s for you.

And to Don, whose support, encouragement and love make each story a reality.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

1

“MR. MATTHEWS, Jessica Newman is here to see you.”

The voice of Haywood and Irwin’s receptionist drifted through the intercom on Ryan Matthews’ desk, breaking his train of thought on the brief he was preparing for a client’s divorce case.

Before he could recover from Glenna’s unexpected announcement, she continued in her ever-efficient manner. “Ms. Newman doesn’t have an appointment, but said she’d like to speak with you regarding a personal matter if you have the time.”

Curiosity flickered through Ryan, as well as an undeniable spark of enthusiasm. He’d make the time for Jessica Newman—anytime, anyplace. That she’d sought him out was enough to pique his interest, especially when she’d made it abundantly clear the last time he’d seen her that there could never be anything between them. Although he’d sensed a mutual attraction at the time, she’d diverted it with a collection of lawyer jokes he’d found too amusing to be offensive.

“My afternoon is clear, Glenna.” He didn’t have any appointments or engagements, just a tedious pile of correspondence awaiting his attention. No doubt, Jessica would provide a much more exciting diversion. “Will you show her to my office, please?”

The line disconnected, and Ryan set aside the documents he’d been reviewing and straightened the scattering of folders and papers on his desk, all the while wondering what had prompted this unscheduled visit of hers.

He’d first met Jessica a year ago when he and his buddies, Marc and Shane, had headed up to the Colorado Rocky Mountains for a few days of skiing. But instead of the guys-only weekend they’d envisioned, they’d found themselves sharing the same cabin with Jessica, her sister, Brooke, and another friend, Stacey. A blizzard had stranded Brooke and Marc together for two days in a deserted cabin, which had been the beginning of a lasting relationship between the two. And while Shane had also connected with Stacey on a very intimate level, Ryan had struck out with Jessica, but not for lack of trying.

Over the past twelve months he’d seen her a handful of times, the last of which had been at Marc and Brooke’s small, intimate wedding three weeks ago where they’d stood up as best man and maid of honor for the couple. Other than Stacey and Shane, only immediate family had been invited to the private gathering.

And once again, Jessica had opposed his flirtatious advances. She’d used her arsenal of lawyer jokes to keep her attraction to him at bay, and ultimately turned down his request to take her out to dinner sometime. He’d been prepared for her refusal—over the course of a year she’d rejected him more than any man’s ego should have to endure. More than most men would have endured.

He wasn’t most men, and possessed enough patience to believe that some things were worth waiting for. And Jessica intrigued him with her efforts to resist him. She stimulated him with her sassy mouth and spirited debates. And it drove him nuts that he couldn’t break through that reserve of hers and make her admit to the awareness simmering between them.

She’d become a challenge, one he enjoyed as much as it frustrated him—losing, in any capacity, wasn’t something he liked to accept, and he’d never been one to admit defeat until he’d exhausted every effort available.

A slow smile curved his mouth. Maybe it was time he upped the ante with a more direct approach and showed her that their attraction could lead to a mutually satisfying relationship. He wasn’t looking for anything deep, heavy, or serious that would interfere with the goals he’d spent the past six years trying to achieve. No way did he want to disappoint his parents, who’d scraped and saved to send him through college and law school and were so proud that their only son had chosen such a distinguished career. Eventually, he wanted to make junior partner. There was also the possibility of him heading up the family law department, and he was biding his time, winning cases, and making a name for himself that would go a long way in impressing the higher-ups when the time came for that particular advancement.

Being a bachelor suited Ryan just fine—it freed him to pursue his career goals single-mindedly, without the distraction of a serious relationship to waylay him, as he’d seen with other colleagues. But he wasn’t opposed to spending time with a woman who aroused him on all levels, and Jessica Newman certainly did that.

But first, he needed her to admit she reacted the same way to him.

His mind turned over tantalizing ideas just as his office door opened and Glenna stepped aside to let Jessica enter. Automatically, he stood, one of the many gentlemanly gestures ingrained by his mother since he was a toddler. Being the only son in a family with three sisters, he’d learned early to treat women with utmost respect. As a teenager, he’d grumbled about the unfairness of having to cater to his sisters, but had grown to appreciate being familiar with the formalities that women seemed to admire and value.

Not that he was counting on his social graces to make any difference with Jessica. No, it was going to take something more tangible and candid to make an impact on her. By the time she left his office, he planned to shake her aloof composure and, he hoped, put a fracture in her convictions to keep him at arm’s length, too.

She strolled into the room, her winter coat draped over her arm with her leather gloves stuffed in the front pocket. He started around his desk and across the distance separating them, watching as her big blue eyes registered his gradual approach. He smiled, taking in her teal-and-black, thigh-length sweater over black leggings, which tucked into stylish boots. She always dressed conservatively, whether in jeans and loose blouses, or slacks and long flowing skirts—nothing to draw attention to the slender curves and full breasts merely hinted at beneath her choice of clothing.

Nothing sophisticated like the kind of worldly women his profession drew, but it was her wholesomeness that fascinated him and appealed to him. She wore little makeup to enhance the creamy perfection of her skin, just enough to intensify the drown-in-them-forever blue of her eyes. Her hair was a rich shade of honey-blond, all chin length in a no-fuss style, and parted on the side with wispy bangs touching her forehead. The strands were incredibly silky-looking, beckoning for him to slide his fingers through them as he’d envisioned doing a hundred times since knowing her.

Today, there would be no suppressing his urges. Today, he was going to discover just how warm and heavenly her hair felt wrapped around his fingers…and he planned to discover a whole lot more.

“Can I bring either of you refreshments?” Glenna asked.

“Would you like something from the coffee bar downstairs?” he suggested to Jessica. “An espresso? Mocha? Cappuccino?”

He fully expected her to say she wasn’t staying long, but she surprised him with, “I’d love a mocha, thank you. I’m still chilled from the cold temperatures outside. Maybe that will help warm me up.”

Ryan thought of more traditional and fun ways to generate heat. Long, slow kisses. The stroke of his hands across her bare skin. His naked body against hers. The possibilities were endless.

“A mocha it is,” he said, glancing toward Glenna with their order. “And I’ll take a cappuccino.”

With a nod, the receptionist was gone, closing the door behind her.

“This is a pleasant surprise.” Taking her coat and purse, he hung both next to his suit jacket on the brass hooks mounted on the wall just inside the room. “Dare I hope that you’ve reconsidered going out on a date and you’re here to beg me for a second chance?”

A smile quirked the corner of her mouth, and she slanted him that sly look he was coming to know so well. He knew what was imminent, and anticipated her brand of humor.

“Hmm, let’s see,” she murmured speculatively, as if giving his question serious consideration. “I’m trapped in a room with a tiger, a rattlesnake, and a lawyer. I have a gun with two bullets. What should I do?”

He lifted his brows, indicating he was ready for her punch line, even though he knew it wouldn’t bode well for him. “I have no idea. What should you do?”

“Shoot the lawyer. Twice.” She flashed him a quick grin.

He chuckled and shook his head, even as he wondered what had caused such a cynical attitude toward attorneys. “I take it that means no?”

“Ahh, a lawyer that catches on quick. Amazing.” She moved away from him, to the wall holding his law degree and other various certificates, diplomas and credentials he’d acquired since college. He watched her examine each one, a tiny frown forming on her brow. Not sure what had caused the sudden mood change, he attempted to keep their banter light and flirtatious. “You’d better be careful, Jessie. I have to confess that those lawyer jokes of yours are starting to turn me on.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes. “Maybe I need to work on my delivery.”

His gaze perused her lazily, thoroughly. “From my vantage point, your delivery is perfect.” He gained a bit of satisfaction at the temptation he witnessed in her eyes, the wanting. What he didn’t care for was the struggle to curb her desires. “I think what we need to work on is your general opinion toward lawyers, and me.”

She turned around and sighed, the sound rife with regret. “It’s nothing personal, Ryan. I do like you.”

“Just not that I’m a man who represents clients in a court of law.”

“Yeah, something like that,” she responded vaguely.

Pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, he slowly stepped toward her, watched as she subtly backed up to keep the same amount of distance between them. “Then maybe we should narrow it down to working on just you, and me…on a personal level.”

She bumped into his cherrywood filing cabinet, glared at it for being in her way, then crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture he read as protective. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“What can I say? Being a lawyer, I like to argue and prove people wrong. Especially when I know I’m right.”

She rolled her eyes at his too-confident statement. “Well, this is one case you won’t win, counselor.”

He smiled lazily. “You don’t think so?”

She shook her head, and that soft, enticing hair of hers swayed with the movement, teasing him, making the tips of his fingers tingle for direct contact. “I know so.”

Very casually, as if it were a perfectly natural move, he braced his left hand against the edge of the filing cabinet, sealing off her one chance to slip around him. All amusement ceased, replaced by a shimmering heat. Her scent, an arousing combination of jasmine and innocence, curled around him, intoxicating and impossibly alluring.

Resisting the urge to bury his face against her neck and inhale deeply of the fragrance clinging to her skin, he tipped his head and said, “Give me a strong, valid reason why I should give up.”

She swallowed, and the pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “Number one on my list of dating rules. No lawyers. Especially divorce attorneys. It goes against my ethics.”

He’d heard it all before, in so many words, and he didn’t bother asking why, knowing by that guarded look in her eyes that he wouldn’t glean the answer he wanted, just a brush-off. But he knew her reasons went much deeper than something so superficial, and the analytical part of him couldn’t help but want to discover all her secrets.

“So, you’re gonna hold my profession against me?”

“’Fraid so.” She lifted her chin. “You know, despite knowing how much you enjoy provoking me, I didn’t come here for an interrogation.”

He stared deep into her eyes, filled with conflicting emotions. Denial. Defiance. Longing. It was the last emotion that struck a reciprocating chord in him.

“Maybe you came here for more than you realize,” he murmured, and lifted his free hand. He moved slow and easy, catering to her apprehension, intending to brush his knuckles across her cheek, gently tangle his fingers through her silken hair, stroke along the warm nape of her neck…and let desire take its natural course.

He was determined to make this the defining moment between them. And judging by the deepening of her breathing, the parting of her lips, and the way her lashes drooped slumberously over her hazy eyes, he was fairly certain she wouldn’t belt him for satiating the need to caress her supple skin, taste her honeyed lips, and draw her lithe form up against his hard, hungry body.

It never happened.

A brisk knock on the door interrupted his seduction. Jessica jerked back, shaken, her eyes widening in alarm. Inches away from touching her, he fisted his fingers in the air, and swore beneath his breath at Glenna’s untimely return.

Frustration tightened his jaw. Another five seconds, and he would have finally kissed Jessica, as deeply and as intimately as she would have allowed. And in the process he would have put a serious crimp in her “ethics” against getting involved with a lawyer. He’d waited a year for this opportunity, only to have his proficient receptionist shatter the moment.

He gave Jessica the breathing room she suddenly seemed to need and opened the door, retrieving their hot beverages from Glenna. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jessica move into the center of the room, where it was spacious and safe. She dragged a hand through her hair, looking flustered and as though she couldn’t believe what she’d almost allowed him to do, what she’d almost openly participated in.

He nearly laughed at her naivete. If she knew the half of what he imagined doing to her, he was convinced he’d never see her again. Kisses and stolen caresses were only the beginning of what he wanted from her.

He turned back to the receptionist, who was awaiting further instructions from him. “Glenna, will you hold all my calls until I’m through with Ms. Newman?” At her nod, he added with a rueful grin, “And would you mind closing the door for me since my hands are full?”

“Of course.” With a smile that told him she believed this was just another business meeting with a client, she enclosed them in the room. A tension-filled silence immediately descended over his office.

Jessica eyed him cautiously, and he hated that her wariness was back. “You don’t have to hold your calls for me.”

He held her cup out to her, and she took her beverage. “I prefer private, uninterrupted consultations.”

A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth. “Are you going to charge me by the hour for your time?” She took a drink of her mocha, then her tongue darted out, catching the smear of whipped cream clinging to her upper lip.

His gut clenched, and he drew a deep, steady breath, unable to remember the last time a woman had him so tied up in knots. “For you, my fee is negotiable, and very flexible.” He winked at her to put her at ease. “But we can discuss that later. Have a seat and let’s get business out of the way first.”

He waved to one of the two seats in front of his desk while he settled into his leather chair. He caught a glimpse of the gray-leaded sky out the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated the Denver high-rise where Haywood and Irwin leased their offices, and wondered if they were in for another winter storm.

Taking a quick drink of his cappuccino, he set his cup on his blotter and reclined in his chair. “You have my complete and devoted attention, not to mention my curiosity. What brings you by my office in the middle of the day?”

“I wanted to discuss something with you.” A sudden anxious light flickered in her gaze. “I suppose I should have called first, but I was the next block over having lunch with Brooke, so I thought I’d take a chance that you were in and available. I figured a half hour out of your afternoon might be easier and more convenient than taking time out of your evening.”

He lifted a brow her way. Easier and more convenient for her, of course. “Don’t be shocked, but my social calendar in the evenings is quite empty, though I wouldn’t mind filling in a few of those nights with a date, or two, or three, with you.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, and this time didn’t bother responding to his flirtatious attempt to sway her. He chalked up another rejection, but wasn’t the least bit discouraged.

She took another drink of her flavored coffee, then stated what was on her mind. “I want to do something special and fun for Brooke and Marc since they had such a small ceremony and no reception.”

“From what I remember, they didn’t want a reception,” he interrupted, remembering his friend’s request to keep their wedding small and simple, which had included no gifts from the guests.

“True. My sister felt that since this was her second marriage she’d keep things low key.” Though Jessica’s tone held mild reproach for her sibling’s sensible characteristic, her affection for Brooke was unmistakable. “But I’d really like to throw a surprise reception party in their honor, to give family and friends the opportunity to congratulate them, too. And since you and I were best man and maid of honor at the wedding, I thought it would be appropriate if we hosted the party. I also thought New Year’s Eve would be a romantic and fun evening to celebrate their marriage.”

He glanced at the open engagement calendar on his desk for the month of December, noting that the new year was only four weeks away. “That sounds great, but aren’t most halls and ballrooms already booked for New Year’s Eve parties by now?”

“Well, this is where I need your help.” Grinning impishly, she shifted in her seat, and crossed one slender leg over the other. “Brooke has mentioned in passing that your house is huge, and I was hoping that’s where we could have the party. Obviously, we can’t do it at my apartment, and yes, I did check into various halls and ballrooms and couldn’t find any place that wasn’t already reserved. You’re my last hope.”

He liked that she might have to depend on him for something, which meant he’d gain leverage to reap something in return…like her acquiescence for a date.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could accommodate her request. “My house isn’t huge.” Granted, the twenty-five hundred square feet of living space he’d purchased a little over a year ago sometimes seemed monstrous and too damned quiet and lonely in the evenings. He had his cat, Camelot, to keep him company though, and she was the perfect roommate. Female and loving, she didn’t make unrealistic demands on his time and never complained about his sometimes grueling work schedule and late nights.

Absently, Jessica tucked a swath of hair behind her ear, revealing a small diamond stud earring that sparkled with her slightest movement. Not surprisingly, Ryan found her lobe incredibly sexy, and wondered if he’d elicit a shiver or moan from her should he ever have the pleasure of nibbling on that soft, enticing piece of flesh.

“Can it accommodate about thirty people?” she asked, bringing his musings back to the present.

He rubbed his thumb along his jaw as he considered her question. “If they’re spread out between the living room, dining room, and family room on the bottom level. And if we move my furniture around to make more open space.”

“We can make it work.” The exuberance brightening her features made him realize how much this party meant to her, and just how close she was to her sister.

From the sketchy details Ryan had learned at Brooke’s wedding, they had no other siblings. Their mother lived in West Virginia with her second husband, and when he’d casually asked Jessica about her father, he’d received a cool, emotionless response that their real father was no longer a part of their lives and hadn’t been for some time. It was all the information he’d gleaned, but it had been enough for him to suspect that she’d had a rough childhood.

She set her nearly empty cup on the small table between the two chairs, her eyes brimming with excitement. “We’ll send Brooke and Marc a separate invitation on the pretense of you having a New Year’s Eve celebration so they’ll be surprised and won’t try and talk us out of the party.”

He took a drink of his warm cappuccino and didn’t reply to her monologue, since she wasn’t really asking for his input. He hadn’t said yes to using his house, either, but Jessica was obviously way ahead of him on that score and assuming that he’d agree. She had the party all planned out in her mind, and he was getting the distinct impression that he was just along for the ride.

He intended to veer her off course and make the excursion much more interesting.

“I’ll take care of the other invitations, the decorations, catering, and a cake, and if you have a stereo system I’ll bring along some CDs with romantic music that we can play.” She grinned, bowling him over with that guileless smile that lacked her normal sass or reserve. “And I’ll find a gift that I know they’ll both enjoy, which we can go in on together, if you’d like. You won’t have to worry about a thing except writing up a speech to toast the newlyweds.”

How convenient, he thought in amusement, knowing exactly what she was attempting to do—take complete charge and keep his interaction with her to a minimum. “And splitting the cost of the party with you, of course.”

“I’ll keep the expenses as minimal as possible. I promise. And if the expense of the party gets to be too much for you, I’ll cover the costs.”

Money wasn’t a concern for him. Not in the least. “I can afford whatever you have in mind.”

She leaned forward in her chair expectantly, her eyes hopeful. “Then the party is a go at your place?”

He saw this idea of hers as his last opportunity to insinuate himself in her life, to work past those barriers she put up with him, to spend quality time with her and tempt and seduce her, and see where their attraction might lead.

Picking up his favorite Mont Blanc pen, he rolled it between his fingers. “I’ll agree to the party at my place on one condition.”

She made a snickering sound. “You can’t agree without striking some kind of bargain, can you?”

“I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “Making deals is part of my business. Why settle for less than what I know I can get?”

“Call it what it is, Matthews—wearing your opponent down.”

He feigned a wince at her barb. “I’d like to think of it as drive and ambition to succeed. I haven’t gotten as far as I have without it.”

Derision colored her gaze. “In your illustrious career as a divorce attorney, or with me?”

Somewhere along the way their conversation had taken a personal slant, and it seemed as though his ambitious nature was a source of contention for her. “With both, actually.”

The leg crossed over her opposite knee bounced impatiently. “All right then, counselor, let’s hear it. What are your conditions?”

He set his pen in its holder. “That I’m part of the planning, every step of the way.”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”

He blinked, and kept his face carefully blank. “I’m completely serious.”

“You don’t have time to do the planning,” she insisted, obviously rattled by his suggestion and what it implied—spending time with him.

“How do you know what I have time for?”

She shook her head in an attempt to divert his interest. “I work out of my apartment with my medical transcripts, and can take care of calls and errands during the day. Why would you want to worry about any of this when I’m more than willing to handle everything?”

Knowing if he revealed his true motives he’d never stand a chance with her, he opted for the obvious. “Well, for starters, I’m paying for half of this party, which gives me the right to contribute my opinion on everything, yes?”

Very reluctantly, she said, “Well…yes.”

“And I’m opening my house to thirty-something people, so I’d like to know what to expect, and what you plan to do.” He flipped through his daily calendar and summed up his schedule fairly quickly. “I do have some court appearances coming up and cases that I need to close, but for the most part my nights and weekends are wide open.”

Frustration all but radiated from her—there was nothing she could refute. She sat back in her chair with a small huff. “Why don’t sharks attack lawyers?”

Suppressing a grin, he reached for a piece of letterhead and retrieved his pen again. “Why?”

“Professional courtesy,” she muttered.

He chuckled deeply as he drew a diagram to his house for her. “Is that your way of saying I got my way?”

“Yeah, you got your way.” She didn’t sound happy about the fact.

He added his address and home phone number to the piece of paper. Standing, he circled around the desk and handed her the stationery with his bold script on it. “Here are directions to my place. How about we start on the planning tomorrow since it’s Saturday? I’m free—how about you?”

Tentatively, she took the heavy cream vellum from his outstretched hand, but didn’t bother looking at it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any plans, either.”

“Great. Why don’t you come over around eleven and take a look at the layout of my house and see what we have to work with, and then we’ll go from there?”

“All right.” She folded the paper into a precise square. “I have a list of Marc and Brooke’s close friends, and I have a program on my computer that can print up nice party invitations, so I’ll do that this evening, get them addressed, and drop them in the mail on my way to your place in the morning.”

He leaned his backside against the edge of his desk and crossed his legs at his ankles. “Bring them over and we’ll address them together.”

Her lips pursed. “I can do it myself. It’s really a one-person job.”

“Regardless, I want to be a part of every aspect of this party, Jessie.” He knew if he gave her an inch, she’d run a mile. “Including addressing and stamping the invitations.”

Her chin lifted a stubborn notch. “It’s Jessica.”

“I like Jessie better.” The nickname was soft, gentle, with just a hint of rebellion. “It suits you.”

She clucked her tongue. “I suppose you could call me worse.”

He dropped his voice to a low, husky murmur for effect. “Like honey, or sweetheart?”

Her cheeks flushed a sudden, telltale pink. “Those endearments definitely don’t apply to me and you.” Finishing the last of her mocha, she stood and pitched the empty cup into the wastebasket at the side of his desk.

“They could.” He twisted around to keep her in his line of vision as a sudden thought dawned on him. “Unless you’re dating someone else?”

“No,” she admitted freely. “I’m single, available, but not interested…in you.”

Then it was up to him to change her mind, because her lying words contradicted the wistful look in her gaze.

She broke eye contact first. “Well, I think we just about covered everything, and now that you’ve blackmailed me, I think I’ll be on my way.” She headed toward the door, and he followed right behind.

“Just one more thing,” he said with a lazy, self-assured smile.

Her gaze narrowed skeptically as she reached for her coat. “What? Another condition?”

He gently grabbed her wrist before she could execute her move, startling her. Instantaneous awareness cloaked them. She sucked in a swift breath, but didn’t struggle or pull back. Their gazes locked as he stroked his thumb over the pulse point at the base of her wrist. In gradual degrees, he eased closer to her, while she stood statue-still.

He watched as her irises turned as dark and sensual as crushed sapphire velvet, and a surge of heat sped through his veins. Their thighs brushed, and he heard her breath hitch in her throat. Unwilling to let this moment pass without indulging in one of his tamer fantasies, he lifted his hand and finally skimmed his fingers along her smooth cheek, savoring the suppleness of her skin.

She looked stunned by his boldness, mesmerized by the tenderness of his touch. Taking advantage of her uncharacteristic docility, he gave in to the impulse he’d been denied earlier and slid his fingers into her hair. Silky warmth engulfed him, like nothing he’d ever experienced. The sensation was so unbelievably erotic he shuddered with pleasure.

“Ryan?” she whispered, her voice holding a slight tremor.

“No more conditions,” he said, his tone low and rough. Fisting his hand into the feathery mass, he tipped her face up, so she could look into his eyes and see his intent. “This has nothing to do with the party, and everything to do with you and me…and finally getting an answer to a question I’ve been wanting to ask for the past year.”

And then he lowered his head and settled his mouth over hers.

2

JESSICA NEVER COULD HAVE anticipated the impact of Ryan’s kiss, or her open response to him. A year’s worth of resisting his charm, teasing and advances dissolved the moment his mouth touched hers, unraveling every solid lecture she’d given herself on why she could never fall for a man like him…a man who made a career out of tearing families apart, just as her family had been ripped apart.

But none of that mattered at that moment, not when the man, not the lawyer, was gently coaxing her with the soft glide of his lips across hers, taking time and care to draw her into far more forbidden territory. She had no defense against his brand of lazy seduction, his hypnotic patience. And when he slid his other hand into her hair, gradually eased her back against the wall and slanted her mouth more firmly beneath his, she was totally and completely lost. She gripped his corded forearms for support, bared by his rolled-up shirtsleeves, and held on.

Aching to experience more of this exquisite pleasure, she surrendered with a breathy moan. Her lips softened and parted beneath his, and his tongue swept inside to taste her, tantalizing her with silken, gliding forays that made her knees weak and her head spin. She brazenly sought a more intimate sampling, too, and shivered at the combined flavors of hot male and rich coffee.

She learned quickly that despite his straightforward manner, he was a man who took his time and did things thoroughly. He kissed her with delicious languor, as if he had all the time in the world to indulge in the taste and textures of her mouth. His hips pressed closer, making her all too aware of the unyielding masculine body pinning her to the wall, the citrus scent of his aftershave, and the voluptuous sensations coursing through her.

His thumbs brushed her jaw, and her skin caught fire. His wide chest grazed hers, and her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened and ached. A muscular thigh insinuated itself between hers, she felt the hard length of his erection against her hip, and heated desire curled low in her belly. And when he deepened the kiss, she responded just as enthusiastically.

She’d never experienced passion like this—instantaneous and wild. Never wanted another man with such shameless abandon. Never allowed herself to be so reckless with her desires. Her one and only quick, awkward encounter with someone she’d briefly dated three years ago hadn’t prepared her for such intense, thrilling pleasure and consuming need.

Ever since her sister’s marriage she’d been feeling restless, wanting something that felt just beyond her reach. With a kiss, Ryan tapped into deeper longings, and made her crave more.

While her body wanted to see where all this irresistible ecstasy might lead, her sensible mind reminded her that any kind of relationship with him was impossible. Having witnessed the pain of her mother’s separation, along with experiencing the anguish of abandonment, she’d learned to be cautious and selective when it came to men in general. By Ryan’s own admission, his ambition to succeed was his main focus, and wouldn’t leave much spare room in his life to cultivate a commitment to something other than his career. She’d spent the past year dodging his flirtatious overtures, turning him down, swearing never to court the kind of disaster imminent with a driven man like him, whose profession contradicted everything she believed in and wanted for herself…love, marriage and family.

A kiss, no matter how exciting and earth-shattering, wouldn’t change her mind or her principles…or allow her to overlook the fact that he terminated families and marriages without thought to the injured parties involved in those cases.

As if sensing her sudden doubts, he slowly dragged his soft, damp lips from hers. His hot, ragged breath along her cheek added to the arousing sensations, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from releasing his name on a breathless, plaintive sigh.

“In case you’re wondering, the answer was yes,” he murmured huskily in her ear, then lifted his head and gently untangled his fingers from her hair.

Trying to regain her own equilibrium, she braced the flat of her palms against the wall behind her and forced her lashes open to look at him. Though his body no longer touched hers, he only stood a few inches away, and she could still feel the sizzling heat radiating from him. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his irises a rich shade of brown rimmed in a glittering gold. Hungry eyes. Seductive eyes. His thick, sable hair was tousled around his head enticingly, and he looked very sexy and overwhelmingly male.

“What was the question?” she asked, her mind foggy and confused.

A crooked, full-of-himself smile curved his lips. “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

She’d forgotten all about his original quest to achieve an answer to his personal query. What she desperately needed was a lawyer joke to diffuse the too-intimate moment, but he had her so unbalanced she couldn’t remember the simplest of her attorney witticisms.

Frowning, and without thinking, she touched her bottom lip, which was still moist, swollen and incredibly sensitive. “And you think I said yes with that kiss?”

“You most definitely didn’t say no, and I always look for the positive.” He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his olive-colored trousers. “Now that we have that awkward question out of the way, we can move on to the next logical phase of our attraction.”

She laughed at his presumptuousness, but couldn’t deny just how adorable he looked, and just how much he did appeal to her, physically and intellectually. He sparked something utterly shameless within her, made her want to throw caution to the wind and give in to that attraction he spoke of.

“And what do you consider the next logical phase?” she asked.

“A date.”

Nothing she hadn’t already heard and turned down before. She inclined her head and smiled. “Don’t you think you’re going about things backwards? A kiss first, date second?” Deeming it way past time she left, she reached for her coat.

He beat her to it, and held open the wool garment for her. “I’ve never been accused of being traditional.”

She wasn’t surprised. How could a man whose main objective was to split up married couples believe in romantic customs and idealistic sentiments?

She slipped into her coat with a murmured thanks, and turned around. His hands lingered, adjusting the collar, his thumbs grazing her neck. Of course her traitorous body shivered at that delectable caress, and her mind conjured up images of him gliding those long tapered fingers elsewhere.

He handed her purse to her, and she slung the long leather strap over her shoulder. “What if I’m a traditional kind of girl?”

An appropriately contrite look transformed his gorgeous features, though his eyes danced with a teasing light. “Then I apologize profusely for offending your delicate sensibilities with that kiss, and would like to make up for my atrocious behavior with dinner. How about tomorrow night?” He opened the door to his office and waited for her to precede him.

She stepped out into the hall, and realized he intended to escort her out—and felt ridiculously pleased by the gesture. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning, and we’ll be spending the afternoon together.”

“That’s business. I’m referring to pleasure.”

The word “pleasure” rolled off his tongue like a silken, seductive stroke along her spine. She drew a breath and resisted its allure. “No.”

“Sunday night, then?”

He lightly rested his hand on the base of her back. Her coat was heavy and lined, yet that subtle pressure was enough to incite her feminine nerves and send a feverish awareness swirling within her. She held on to her standards and her respectability with both hands. “No.”

“Okay,” he said, unperturbed by her steadfast refusal. “You name the night, then.”

His unwavering persistence amazed her. “How about never?”

They passed through the receptionist area, Ryan told Glenna that he’d be right back after escorting her to the lobby, and they continued to the alcove holding the bank of elevators.

He punched the down arrow and met her gaze. “You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” He didn’t seem at all bothered by that notion. In fact, Jessica suspected the challenge appealed to him and his lawyer instincts.

With his good looks and easy-going charm, she was certain he’d never had to work for a date in his life, and was ninety-nine percent sure his interest in her would wane once she capitulated to his relentless pursuit. No matter how easy it would be to surrender to Ryan despite his profession, it could never happen. She didn’t intend to end up hurt and discarded by any man once he decided the fun was over—especially by one who affected her so strongly and threatened her emotions so severely.

The elevator pinged, signaling its arrival, and they both stepped into the lift. She pressed the button for the lobby, and waited until the metal doors closed. Her stomach dipped, from the descent of the elevator, or from being trapped in such a tiny cubicle with Ryan, she wasn’t sure.

“I’m doing both of us a big favor,” she finally said, infusing her voice with a suitable amount of regret that felt overwhelmingly real. “It would be ridiculous after that kiss to deny that I’m attracted to you, but I don’t think we’re looking for the same things in a relationship.”

He flashed her a quick, tempting grin. “Chemistry is a great start.”

They definitely had plenty of that, but she wanted something more permanent with a man, something more enduring and emotional. Stability and security—the very things she’d grown up without. “Which rarely lasts once the relationship turns physical.”

He studied her too intently with those deep brown eyes of his. “Is that your experience?”

She shrugged vaguely and broke eye contact, unwilling to admit that her experience was limited, and did not evoke pleasant memories. “What’s the longest relationship you’ve ever had?” she asked, turning the conversation back to him.

He worked his mouth in thought. “A little over a year.”

Retrieving her lined leather gloves from her coat pocket, she pulled them on. “How long ago?”

“My senior year in high school.”

She rolled her eyes at him, not at all surprised to discover that he’d spent most of his adult life avoiding a commitment with a woman, which was pretty much equivalent to him confirming himself as a bachelor. “You just proved my point about you and lasting relationships. They don’t exist for you.”

“You didn’t prove anything,” he refuted calmly. “After high school, I went to college while holding down a part-time job, then went straight into law school. Becoming a lawyer and establishing myself has taken precedence over a relationship.”

“And your career is your number one priority.” And that kind of focus didn’t leave much time to nurture an intimate relationship.

Not that she cared.

“I haven’t gotten as far as I have without working hard and making sacrifices.” His words weren’t at all defensive, just a statement of fact. “And quite honestly, I haven’t met a woman who’s made me want to give up being a bachelor.”

The velvet timbre of his voice, the flicker of something far more promising in his eyes, shot a distinct and unnerving tingle through her. The elevator came to a whirring stop, and she opened her purse and dug through the contents, using the search for her car keys as a much needed visual diversion. “I doubt I’m that woman, Matthews, and you’re definitely not someone I’d consider anything long-term with, either.”

“Something short-term then?”

Unable to tell if he was serious or joking, she slanted him a quick glance. The sinful invitation in his gaze indicated his suggestion was, indeed, an earnest one. Temptation crooked its finger, and it took more than a little effort to abstain from accepting his beguiling proposal.

None too soon, the door whooshed opened, and she stepped into the marbled lobby. “You’re a rogue, and I’m not interested.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Jessie,” he said in that silky tone of his. “You’re definitely interested.”

He stopped in the middle of the lobby, and she continued on to the main entrance. Then he called out after her. “And just for the record, I plan to wear down that resolve of yours.”

She turned and used her backside to push open the glass doors that enclosed the interior of the building. Her breath caught, at the afternoon chill that swirled around her, and at the vision of Ryan leaning against a tiled column, so utterly confident, so inherently sexual, so completely irresistible.

But resist him she would. She flaunted a grin full of fabricated sass. “You can certainly try, counselor, but don’t expect me to make it easy on you. And don’t expect to win.”

He tipped his head, and a lock of dark hair fell across his brow, adding to his appeal. “You making it easy on me wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?” he drawled. The devastatingly wicked grin claiming his lips told her he accepted her dare and anticipated the challenge. “See you tomorrow morning.”

RYAN PUSHED HIMSELF to swim an additional ten laps on top of the fifteen he’d already accomplished, hoping the extra morning exercise would burn off the restless energy that had kept him tossing and turning for most of the night. Also to blame were the vivid fantasies that had invaded what little sleep he’d been able to snatch. Of Jessica beautifully naked and submissive in his bed. Of him discovering those curves she’d hidden beneath her bulky sweater, skimming his hands along quivering flesh, tasting her with his tongue, making her want him to the point of begging him for release.

And she begged so prettily in his fantasy, so sweetly. But before he could experience the ecstasy of burying himself deep inside her softness and warmth, he awoke from the erotic dream with a start. He’d been hard and aching, the sheets tangled around his bare legs, and sweating despite the cool night air washing over his body. Three times she’d brought him to the edge last night, until he’d finally dragged himself from bed at dawn and put himself through a rigorous workout regimen in hopes of diminishing the lust that gripped him.

The sharpness of desire had ebbed, but he still wanted her.

Reaching the deep end of the pool, he executed a flip, accelerated off the wall, and continued his fluid, precise strokes across the surface. Curls of steam rose from the water he kept heated in the winter so he could use the pool on a daily basis, but his lungs burned from drawing in cold morning air. The muscles across his shoulders and down his back tingled from the exertion, while the warm water sluiced along his skin, his belly, his thighs, like a lover’s caress.

Jessica’s caress. And just like that, she’d joined him in the pool where he thought he was safe from those erotic fantasies with her.

The kiss they’d shared yesterday afternoon had ignited a dark, carnal craving he couldn’t seem to shake, along with a deeper hunger that transcended mere sexual need, and emotions no other woman had ever evoked. For a year he’d let their desire for one another simmer, and now that he knew there was a warm and willing woman beneath that composed exterior, he wanted to discover everything about her, every sensual secret she harbored.

No easy feat, considering her maddening attempts to deny him, and her frustrating aversion to his profession. But that kiss had provided him with irrefutable evidence. Her vocal cords might be saying “no”, but her lips had told him all he needed to know.

She wanted him, too.

Pulling himself out of the pool, he shivered as too-cold temperatures replaced the warmth of the water. Grabbing the large, fluffy towel he’d left on a lounge chair, he dragged it over his wet head to remove the excess water from his hair, then wrapped the terry around his shoulders. He headed up the brick inlaid steps leading to his two-story house, and wasn’t surprised to see his younger sister, Natalie, sitting at the small table in the kitchen nook that overlooked the landscaped backyard. As always, she’d made herself right at home and was reading his newspaper and drinking what he assumed was a mug of the coffee he’d made that morning. She saw him coming up the walkway, smiled gregariously, and waved.

He lifted a hand in greeting, but entered the house by way of a back door that led to one of the downstairs bathrooms, where he took a quick shower, washed his hair, and changed into the sweatshirt and jeans he’d left there earlier. Leaving his hair damp and finger-combed away from his face, he grabbed his socks and sneakers and headed into the kitchen to see his sister.

The unmistakable fragrance of the delicious buttermilk spice muffins his mother made assailed his senses. There was a cloth-lined basket on the table, and judging by the half-eaten muffin on the plate next to his sister, he’d identified the scent accurately.

“Morning, Nat.” Taking one of the chairs across from her, he began pulling on his socks. “I’m glad to see that the house key I gave you for emergencies is coming in handy.”

Unaffected by his wry tone, she set aside the paper he’d read earlier and shrugged. “I knocked, and no one answered. I didn’t expect you to be out in the pool, for God’s sake.” She eyed him dubiously as she petted the fluffy gray ball of fur reclining on her lap. “How you can go swimming in fifty-degree weather and enjoy it is beyond me.”

The pool was one of the things that had appealed to him when he’d bought the house, along with the large whirlpool in his master bath. “I keep the water heated, and it’s invigorating.”

“Whatever rocks your boat.” Green eyes twinkling, she lifted her mug in a toast to him, then took a drink of the coffee.

Finished tying his shoes, he glanced at the clock, noted that he only had a half hour until Jessica arrived, and realized he needed to move his sister along her way. Unfortunately, Natalie was one to do things at her own unhurried pace.

At twenty-seven, she was the baby of the Matthews clan, and five years younger than he. Though he was close to all his sisters, he was especially fond of Natalie, whom he’d formed a special attachment to from the day his mother had brought her home from the hospital and he’d first peered into her bassinet. They were also the only two siblings left who were single and unattached.

“So, what brings you by?” he asked, wanting to get to the crux of her visit—if there was even a reason.

She glanced down at the cat she’d given him six months ago as a gift, so he’d have company in his big house. “I just wanted to make sure that Camelot isn’t wanting for anything, isn’t that right, Cammie?” she crooned, scratching the feline under her chin.

He couldn’t help but grin at her excuse. “And?”

She tipped her head up, and her rich brown hair, permed with soft waves, swirled around her shoulders. “I found her lapping at a bowl of cream, and judging by her very affectionate purrs, I think she adores her master.”

The cat was truly an affectionate pet, very spoiled, and he was just as smitten. “Now that you know Camelot has me wrapped around her paw, what really brings you by?”

She tore a hunk off the crispy top of the baked good, sprinkled with cinnamon sugared walnuts. “Mom wanted me to deliver something to you, along with these delicious muffins she made.” She popped the bite into her mouth and chewed.

“Which you’ve helped yourself to, I can see.” Unable to resist, he took a chunk of her muffin for himself. It all but melted in his mouth.

She licked the sugar from her fingers. “Of course,” she replied unrepentantly. “It’s not as though you have anyone else to share the muffins with.”

He lifted a brow at her direct comment, but didn’t feed the curiosity glimmering in her eyes. “You mind getting to the real reason why you’re here?”

“I’ll give you a hint. “You need to start practicing your ‘ho, ho, hos’ for Christmas Eve.”

Remembering what had transpired last Christmas Eve, he guessed right away. “You brought the Santa suit over?”

“Yep. Mom wanted to make sure you had it beforehand. Christmas is only three weeks away, and I heard Jackie, Jennifer and Alyssa talking about Santa stopping over at Grandma’s again this year. Looks like you started a new tradition.”

He smiled at the mention of his nieces, whom he adored, the three of which belonged to his oldest sister, Courtney, and her husband Dale. He also had two nephews by his other sister, Lindsay, and her husband Clive. The kids ranged in age from two to seven, and all still believed in the magic of St. Nick.

“I’d be happy to play Santa Claus.” He glanced at the clock again, this time more meaningfully. “I hate to rush you off, Nat, but I’ve got company coming over.” He ate the last of her muffin, then stood and started clearing off the table.

Natalie remained seated and continued stroking Camelot, watching as he tossed the newspaper into the trash, and took her mug and plate to the sink. “Hmm, if you’re cleaning, your company must be female.”

He slanted her a tolerant look. “Yes, she is.”

Interest glimmered in her eyes. “Is it serious?”

If Jessica had her way, they’d remain platonic friends. If he had his way, she’d be warming his bed and fulfilling those fantasies that had him tied up in knots. But no matter how much he desired her, he wasn’t about to rush her into something she wasn’t emotionally prepared for. When the time was right, they’d make love. He’d waited a year for her to come around, so he could abstain a while longer, until he swayed her to his way of thinking. But until then, he planned to keep her just as aroused and inflamed as he was with touches and kisses and anything else she’d allow.

He wasn’t sure how to answer his sister’s question, so he kept his reply ambiguous. “I definitely like her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jessica Newman.” Rinsing the dirty plate and utensils in the sink, he placed them in the dishwasher. “She and I are planning a surprise party for Brooke and Marc on New Year’s Eve, and she’ll be here anytime.”

She ignored his blatant hint to leave. “Are you going to bring her over to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas Eve?”

Drying his hands on a dish towel, he thought of that possibility. Christmas Eve at his parents’ was a fun, cheerful, overnight affair, with baking, a buffet of food to snack on, and his mother playing Christmas music on the baby grand piano his father had bought her years ago for an anniversary present. There was laughter and reminiscing, and before the stroke of midnight they’d all retire to the rooms that they’d grown up in and wake up the next morning to enjoy the delight of watching the younger generation tear through the presents Santa had left for them.

He thought of Jessica, possibly spending the better part of Christmas alone, with her mother living in West Virginia, and Brooke now remarried. Would she accept such a personal invitation when she turned down the simplest of dates?

He’d never taken a woman to the family gathering before, never had the desire or the inclination to share that special time with someone else. Although it wasn’t difficult to imagine Jessica fitting in with his family, he wasn’t certain if he was ready for that leap and what it implied.

“I don’t know if I’ll ask her,” he replied, as honest an answer as he’d give.

The doorbell rang, and Natalie’s expression brightened with curiosity. Gently, she pushed Camelot to the floor, then stood, brushing the cat hairs from her black jeans. “Since your lady friend is here, I guess I should go.”

“How convenient,” he said drolly, knowing this was exactly what his sister had been stalling for. “Let me walk you to the door and introduce you.”

STANDING ON RYAN’S front porch at eleven o’clock to the minute, Jessica drew a deep fortifying breath and adjusted the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder. The canvas bag held the notepad on which she’d started to plan Brooke and Marc’s New Year’s Eve party, along with the invitations and labels she’d printed up last night.

With luck, and the feminine strategy she had in mind, she’d be here an hour, max. Once she droned on about the tedious, boring party plans that would have most men fidgeting and thinking about the football game on TV, she was certain he’d change his mind about helping and be grateful that she’d handle all the details on her own. From there, any decisions she needed from him could be taken care of over the phone, and she wouldn’t have to see him again until New Year’s Eve.

And that suited her perfectly, she told herself with a decisive nod. The less direct involvement she had with sexy Ryan Matthews, Esquire, the better. No matter how much he tempted her, no matter that a single kiss from him had the ability to arouse her to the point of making her feel reckless and wild, absolutely nothing could come of their attraction. So why put herself through the added torment of spending so much unnecessary one-on-one time with Ryan?

Her determination melted the moment he opened the door and stood there, filling her senses with the seductive, drugging hunger she’d managed to squash since leaving his office yesterday afternoon. The tantalizing awareness returned with a vengeance, contradicting the lecture she’d just given herself.

Gone was the professional lawyer attire. With seemingly little effort, dressed in casual jeans and a sweatshirt, he still managed to look gorgeous and exude way too much confidence. It was December cold outside, but the heat in his dark eyes set her body on fire. The sensual promise of his smile made her want to toss her better judgment to the wind and experience all that had gone unexplored in her previous sexual encounter.

No doubt, Ryan would be happy to accommodate her, and satisfy her every whim. The thought sent a strange thrill racing through her, and had her mind tumbling with shameless possibilities.

“Amazing, a woman who’s right on time,” he said teasingly, and motioned her into the foyer with a sweep of his hand. “Come on in.”

Shaking off the impossible thoughts stealing through her mind, she stepped inside the warmth of his house and opened her mouth to issue a lawyer joke in response to his male cynicism. The flow of words stopped when she saw another woman standing just inside the entryway, shrugging into a coat with a fur-lined collar.

The pretty and petite woman smiled. “Hi, Jessica, I’m Ryan’s sister, Natalie,” she introduced herself. “And I believe that wisecrack of my brother’s comes from his scarred childhood and having to wait on his three sisters for the better part of his life.”

Ryan sent a mock scowl Natalie’s way, but there was affection in his gaze. “You have no idea what it’s like to have to get up at four in the morning in order to take a shower for school before the three of you woke up and commandeered the bathroom. I was done in ten minutes, then had to sit around for three hours for the bus to arrive while the three of you fought for mirror space.” He turned back to Jessica, and continued his argument. “And no matter how much time they all had to get ready, they were never on time for anything. Lindsay and Courtney were even late to their own weddings.”

Deeming it her duty to stick up for her gender, Jessica added, “Obviously, their husbands think they were worth waiting for.”

Her reply earned her a brilliant smile from Ryan’s sister. “Oh, I do like you.”

Ryan groaned. “Weren’t you just leaving, Nat?”

“I’m gone.” Natalie pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then grasped Jessica’s hand in hers. “It was nice meeting you. I hope we have the chance to get to know one another better.”

Jessica didn’t bother to correct the woman’s assumption that she was Ryan’s girlfriend. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

Ryan blew out a breath once he closed the door behind his sister. “Ya gotta love her,” he said with amusement, and helped her out of her jacket. “Especially since my parents keep insisting that she wasn’t adopted.”

Despite his joke, it was obvious that he loved his entire family very much. It wasn’t what she’d expected. A part of her had assumed that his career choice had been based on his own personal family history being less than stable. Now, she wasn’t so sure, which made her wonder what had inspired his choice of career.

She swallowed the personal question and retrieved her notepad from her bag. “I brought the invitations, and I thought I could draw out a diagram of the bottom level of your house so that I…I mean, we can figure out what we need to accommodate the guests.”

“Let’s get started,” he said, too eagerly, too helpfully. “You can make notes while I give you the grand tour.”

The “grand tour” left Jessica breathless. His house was huge in her estimation, when all she’d known was the one small home her family had lived in before her parents divorced, then the cramped space of apartments. Being self-employed and making a decent living as a medical transcriber, she’d upgraded to a nice complex in a middle-class neighborhood which she’d shared with Brooke until recently, but it didn’t come close to the luxury in which Ryan lived.

Obviously decorated by a professional, in masculine colors of royal blue, hunter green, and chocolate brown, the lower level was spacious and spread out, affording them enough room to set up rental chairs for the party. The formal table in the dining room would hold the buffet she had in mind, and if they rearranged the furniture in the living room and family room they could add more seats there, too. The kitchen was a caterer’s dream, with a huge wooden center island for them to use to prepare the appetizers.

As she gazed up the spiral staircase to the upper level, she imagined entwining evergreen and twinkling lights along the handrail and throughout the house to make it more enchanting. Cinnamon-scented candles would add to the ambiance. Flipping the page of her pad of paper, she made a notation under “florist” for poinsettias, holly and greenery, along with a few table arrangements.

“Did you want to see upstairs, too?” he asked once they’d covered the first level of the house.

She lifted her gaze from her notes and quirked her brow at him, feeling a tad suspicious. Up until this moment, he’d been very well behaved. “Is there anything up there I need to see?”

“The master bedroom?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at the hopeful note in his voice, the inviting light in his gaze. “You plan on letting your guests mingle in there?”

A warm, private smile brushed across his mouth. “I’m only extending the invitation to you.”

“It would be incredibly rude of us to leave our guests downstairs while we mingle upstairs,” she said, deliberately misconstruing his meaning.

He followed her through the living room to the kitchen. “I’m sure our guests wouldn’t miss us for an hour.”

A delicious pressure tightened in her belly at his insinuation. An hour of pure ecstasy compared to the ten minutes of groping and fumbling she’d experienced three years ago.

Oh, wow.

Trying not to allow his sexy overture to entice her, she sat at the small kitchen table and withdrew the invitations, address labels and stamps. It was time to execute her scheme to discourage his interest in the party planning.

He didn’t complain when she gave him the unpleasant job of licking the envelopes, and assigned him the monotonous task of affixing the return labels and stamps. Too cheerfully, he did as she instructed, not once shifting anxiously in his chair, or issuing an exasperated sigh.

Her ploy wasn’t working. The man was impossible to dissuade. Not to mention that he had her completely distracted and unable to concentrate.

He was sitting so close, his leg occasionally grazed hers, the friction of denim against denim nearly electric. She could feel his eyes on her as he waited patiently for her to address the last two invitations.

And then he reached out and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear that had fallen against her cheek, exposing her neck to his gaze in the process. His fingers lingered for a few fretful heartbeats, then skimmed her jaw as his hand fell away.

A shiver coursed through her, and she calmly handed him the invitation and reached for the last one. “Am I boring you?”

“Not in the least.” Without acknowledging that he’d touched her, he dampened a stamp and pressed it onto the corner of the envelope. “And why do I get the impression that you’re disappointed about that fact?”

“More like amazed that you’re actually enjoying this.” Finished with the last invitation, she passed it to him to finalize the job. “Well, that’s done.” And now she could leave. “I’ll drop them in the mail on my way home.”

“All right.” He gathered the other items for her to put into her tote bag, then stood, left the kitchen, and returned with her jacket, and a worn, masculine leather one.

Considering his sudden eagerness to help her clean up, and the fact that he was shrugging into his own jacket, she wondered if maybe she had waylaid his interest in party planning. Obviously, he had more exciting plans on his agenda, and was just politely going through the motions.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked.

She grabbed her purse and tote bag and replied without thinking. “Not since breakfast.”

“Me, either, and I’m starved. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He retrieved a set of keys off a hook on the nearby wall, and before she could gain her bearings, he had her hand enclosed in his and was guiding her out a back door to the garage.

He hit a button on the wall, a light went on, and the garage door started rolling upward, revealing a gray sky and snow flurries. A gleaming black Lexus with rich gold trim sat waiting, and Ryan opened the passenger door and ushered her into the butter-soft, tan leather interior.

Marveling at how easily he could manipulate her, how easily she let him, she buckled up while he circled around the car. Once he was behind the wheel, she asked, “Where are we going?”

The engine turned over on a soft purr of sound, and he glanced her way, grinning with wicked satisfaction. “On our first date.”

3

“THIS IS NOT A DATE,” Jessica reiterated once they’d arrived at the restaurant he’d selected and they’d placed their orders with the waitress.

Ryan glanced across the table at his date, and grinned. The sparkling laughter in her bright blue eyes belied her insistent tone and convinced him that she really didn’t mind that he’d coerced her into having lunch with him. “You keep insisting that this isn’t a date, but I think it all depends on how our afternoon ends.”

Her features altered into mock suspicion. “What’s the deciding factor?”

His gaze dropped to her soft lips, remembering the taste and lush feel of her. He could feast on her mouth for hours and still want more. “I think a kiss at the end of the day would determine whether this outing constitutes a date or not.”

She dipped her head as she opened her napkin and spread it on her lap. “Sorry to disappoint you, Matthews, but this is strictly a business lunch.”

He clasped his hands on the table and lowered his voice flirtatiously. “Ahh, but we haven’t discussed any ‘business’ yet.”

“But we will,” she said, and dutifully pulled out her pad of paper and a pen, along with a very diligent attitude. “We need to nail down the specifics for the party so I can make the appropriate calls and get everything set up and scheduled.”

“You win,” he relented, feigning a defeated sigh. “Business it is. For today.”

How was it that she looked both relieved and disappointed? The conflicting emotions he glimpsed intrigued him, and assured him that the potential for something more than their business dealings looked promising. It was just a matter of taking things slow and easy, and he had four weeks to persuade her to his way of thinking.

Admittedly, he’d never taken such time and care with a woman, but then the sophisticated, career-driven women he’d dated in the past had blatantly pursued him, and they’d both gone into the affair with the mutual understanding that there were no strings attached. Satiating physical needs had been the mainstay of those relationships, and ultimately their jobs had taken precedence over cultivating anything lasting. When they’d parted ways, they’d done so without regrets or emotional entanglements, and that type of arrangement had always suited him just fine.

Ever since meeting Jessica, he’d found himself growing more selective, to the point that he’d turned down a few offers from beautiful women he knew wouldn’t make demands on his time. Attracting willing females had always come easily, but somewhere along the way indulging in a purely sexual relationship had lost its appeal.

Jessica stimulated not only his body, but his mind, and a woman hadn’t accomplished such a feat in a long time, if ever. She made him think of things he’d put aside for his career, made him wonder if combining a real, lasting relationship with his job was do-able. Made him wonder if there was some kind of way to strike a balance between achieving success and maintaining traditional values.

Not with her, his conscience mocked, reminding him of her ultimate aversion to his profession. She was tolerating him because of the party she wanted to throw for Brooke and Marc, and no doubt would say good riddance come New Year’s Eve, unless he could convince her otherwise.

Yet there was no denying their attraction—or her reluctance to let their desire for one another take its natural course. And that meant he needed to help things along at a gradual, coaxing pace, in a way that would entice Jessica to give him a chance.

“…I thought appetizers would be more practical, instead of a full-course dinner,” he heard Jessica say. “Quiches, chicken fingers, stuffed mushrooms, buffalo wings. Those kinds of things that everyone seems to like. I can call a few caterers, get their suggestions, too, and an estimate for the party.” She took a drink of her soda, her gaze expectant. “What do you think?”

He pretended to mull over her suggestion. “That sounds fine to me.”

“Great.” Seemingly pleased with his easy acquiescence, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper with the heading “Caterer.” Meanwhile the waitress arrived with their meal, setting a bowl of potato cheese soup in front of Jessica, and a cheeseburger in front of him.

They both started in on their respective lunches. After a few spoonfuls of soup, Jessica continued with her agenda. “I was going to contact Wilson’s bakery to order a cake, and I was thinking we should go with white cake with a butter cream frosting.”

He chewed on a bite of cheeseburger and thought about her bland suggestion. Not wanting to outright discount her opinion, he chose his words carefully. “I’m not a cake connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but what’s wrong with a flavored cake, like chocolate, or lemon, or even something more exotic like Black Forest?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, silently rejecting his idea. “Not everyone likes those flavors, and vanilla is pretty safe.”

“But not very exciting or different,” he pointed out, and saw her brows pucker ever so slightly at his argument. “I mean, why do we have to go with just one cake?”

“Because…” Her jaw snapped shut when no other words emerged, then she tried again. “Well, I just thought…” Seemingly unable to find a solid answer to dispute his creative concept, her shoulders slumped. “I guess we could get a variety,” she said reluctantly. “What do you suggest?”

He’d put her on the defensive, and he hadn’t meant to do that. And she obviously wasn’t happy about his interference in her plans, but it just wouldn’t be any fun if he gave in to her every whim without adding a little spice to the mixture. If it was really important, he’d let her have her way—but first, he’d prove to her that plain and practical white cake didn’t compare to a more exciting, tasty and pleasurable array of desserts.

She was waiting for his ideas, very impatiently if the tapping of her pen was any indication. Keeping his expression unreadable, he dragged a French fry through a pool of ketchup and met her gaze from across the booth. “Can I have a few days to think about it?”

He’d definitely caught her off guard with his request to take the time to consider their cake dilemma. As much as he knew she would have preferred settling the issue here and now, she conceded to his request.

“Sure.” She smiled as if to placate him. “Can you let me know your ideas and suggestions by the end of the week so we can make a decision and get the cake, or cakes, ordered?”

He nodded. “We’ll definitely have it covered by the end of the week.” And she’d have a new appreciation for the different tastes, flavors and textures of cake.

Closing her notepad, she stuffed it back into her tote bag in an attempt to terminate their discussion. He wasn’t about to let her retreat so easily.

“You mentioned going in together on a gift for Brooke and Marc,” he said, sucking off a smear of sauce from his thumb. “What did you have in mind?”

She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin as she swallowed a mouthful of soup. “I was thinking along the lines of something for their bathroom, which Brooke mentioned she wanted to redo in peach and greens. We could get them towels, a vanity set, a matching hamper—”

“Well, that’s certainly very practical and sensible,” he drawled, not at all impressed.

She bristled, a flicker of annoyance finally making an appearance in her gaze. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I suppose, for old married couples.” Done with his cheeseburger, he wiped his fingers on his napkin. “They’re newlyweds, Jessie. Why not get them something fun and sexy for the bathroom?”

She stared at him as if he’d spouted Latin. “What in the world could be fun and sexy for the bathroom?”

Did she honestly have no clue? He shrugged, thinking of the things that would appeal to a woman, and a man, as well. “Lotions, candles and bath products. I’ve even seen some flavored finger paints that couples can use to rub all over each other’s bodies, then lick off.”

Her brows rose in skepticism, contradicting the flush stealing across her face. “You’re kidding, right?”

He searched her flustered expression, and wondered about her sexual experience. She didn’t strike him as completely innocent, but he was beginning to suspect that she’d never experimented beyond basic sex. Had she ever really been seduced by a man? Really seduced, in a way that encompassed every one of her five senses?

Bits and pieces of their conversation yesterday at his office filtered through his mind:

Chemistry is a great start.

Which rarely lasts once the relationship turns physical.

Is that your experience?

She hadn’t given him an answer, but he was beginning to believe that her sexual encounters had been brief, and inadequate.

“It’s a romantic and playful gift,” he argued lightly. “Brooke and Marc would enjoy it. Any couple would.”

“I doubt it.”

Stubborn woman, he thought. She wouldn’t doubt his choice if she knew just how sensual and erotic bath-time could be when you had someone to play with in the tub.

“Tell you what,” he said, more than willing to compromise. “You purchase the practical items, and I’ll buy the fun, sexy stuff. We’ll put it all together and the gift will be a great combination of both.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth pursed with frustration. No doubt she was wishing she’d never agreed to allow him to help with the party and planning.

“You’re not convinced?”

“I just don’t think your idea is a very useful gift, and it’s not what I had in mind.” Her tone was prim, but her words undercut him as a man who knew what women liked. “Maybe we ought to just buy our gifts separately.”

Without further comment, he let the issue slide—for now. It appeared he had something else to teach her—about the many creative ways to enjoy being intimate. And when he was done with her, she’d gladly admit to his expertise.

THE MAN WAS INFURIATING!

Jessica walked into her apartment, yanked off her jacket, and released a loud, aggravated sound that did nothing to dispel the frustration coiling within her. Why couldn’t Ryan just be a typical male and leave the plans for the New Year’s Eve bash to her? Why did he have to put a crimp in her plans and suggestions?

And why did he have to be so gorgeous and sexy and make her want him so much when she knew how foolish any liaison with him would be?

She sank into the old, soft chair that had seen her through many years of pain, anger, tears and confusion. Though the sturdy frame had been reupholstered three times since her parents’ divorce when she was nine years old, the chair was the one thing she couldn’t part with from her childhood. The softness and warmth had become a comfort zone for her, a place that swallowed her up and offered silent solace for her troubles, whatever they were.

Like her disconcerting attraction to Ryan.

It was silly to hang on to the chair, she knew, considering all the bad memories that came with it—but it had been the one constant in her life, other than Brooke. When her father decided that he preferred the single life with a younger woman over the family he’d created, which entailed nearly destroying his wife in the process, Brooke had been the strong one during the turbulent divorce that had ensued. Brooke had taken care of her, and their mother. The separation had been a nasty one, with her father hiring a powerful attorney who had no compunction about taking advantage of her mother’s emotional shock. And since her mother hadn’t been able to afford to hire a decent lawyer for herself, she’d lost most everything to her husband and his new lover.

Bitter memories swamped Jessica as she remembered the years after the divorce, of her mother struggling to make ends meet because their father never paid child support and alimony on time, and Brooke sacrificing her teenage years to help raise her because their mother had to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their mouths.

An awful childhood, due to the abandonment of her father, and the insensitive, cruel nature of a divorce attorney more interested in his final take than a family’s welfare.

She curled into the soft cushion and rubbed her hand over the powder-blue fabric. This chair had absorbed her tears and had taken all the angry pounding and abuse she would have unleashed on her father had he shown up to exercise his visitation rights. But ultimately, he hadn’t cared for his daughters’ emotional needs, just his own selfish desires. He’d never given a second thought to the family he’d left in shambles.

Neither had his cutthroat attorney.

When she thought of Ryan’s profession, she thought of the lawyer who’d represented her father and coldly and cruelly demolished a little girl’s dreams. A man who’d degraded a good wife and mother to benefit his client and pad his own pocketbook.

But Ryan wasn’t cold and unfeeling and degrading. He was warm and caring and amusing, in a way that made her wonder how he was able to enjoy being a divorce attorney and accomplish all the necessary evils that went along with the profession when it was obvious that his own family ties were tightly woven. She wondered what had prompted his choice of occupation, then dismissed the thought because the answer really didn’t matter—and shouldn’t matter. Between his career and his drive and ambition, Ryan was completely wrong for her.

Closing her eyes, she burrowed her cheek against the plush headrest in an attempt to forget about her oppressive past, and the turbulent present. No matter the problems and afflictions that plagued her mind, the effect of the chair managed to calm her soul.

At the moment, Jessica was more concerned about the state of her heart…and Ryan Matthews easing his way into it. Despite everything he stood for, despite how frustrated and infuriated he’d made her today with the cake issue and his idea of a wedding present, she couldn’t deny desiring Ryan Matthews, the man.

Her blossoming feelings for him were dangerous and could only lead to heartache. He himself had admitted that he wasn’t looking for commitment, while she’d spent most of her adult life searching for just that, along with security and stability with a man. After living through her parents’ nasty divorce, seeing her sister through a bad marriage, and making an error in judgment of her own in a previous relationship, Jessica was determined to make better choices. When she fell in love, she wanted it to last forever. When she married, she wanted to do it right the first time around.

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