With a toss of her head, Katie marched to the front of the room and drew her first dare.

She slipped the red velvet ribbon from the crisp parchment, unrolled it and read out loud to the room. “You have drawn a three-part dare. Each of your dares is to be completed within one week’s time. The second and third dares will be mailed to you by the Thursday of each week. For this week, your dare is to make love to the man of your fantasies in a forbidden place.”

Stunned, Katie turned to gape at the women of the M & B club. It was as if the dare had been tailor-made for her. Correction: tailor-made for the old Katie. The one who used to do foolish things like make love to strangers in closets.

“Ball’s in your court, Katie,” said Lindsay, the club’s president, with a wry smirk on her face. “Are you all talk? Or do you dare?”

LORI WILDE

is the author of thirty-nine books. She’s been nominated for a RITA® Award and four Romantic Times BOOKreviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards. Her books have been excerpted in Cosmopolitan. Also Lori teaches writing online through Ed2go. She’s an RN trained in forensics, and volunteers at a battered women’s shelter.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to THE MARTINI DARES series. We hope you’ll love meeting and getting to know the Winfield sisters and the very sexy men who turn their oh-so-ordered lives upside down.

First up is the youngest sister – impetuous, sexually adventurous Katie Winfield, who’s secretly longing to settle down but doesn’t exactly know how to go about it. She’s always been the wild child of the family and she wonders exactly who she’ll be if she dares to let go of that role.

Enter Liam James, an ambitious, hardworking real estate mogul on the verge of making his first cool billion. He’s in need of a good time as badly as Katie needs emotional security. But he’s not about to admit it, even though he’s wildly attracted to the high-society graphic artist he’s just hired to run his new advertising campaign.

Then Katie joins the mysterious Martinis & Bikinis, a club formed to help empower women by issuing them provocative dares. All bets are off as Katie performs one sexy Martini Dare after another on an unsuspecting Liam, loosening him and reforming his workaholic ways.

But can a very bad girl find happiness with a very good man?

Don’t miss the next book in the series, My Front Page Scandal by Carrie Alexander, available in December. You might just find yourself wanting to do a Martini Dare or two of your very own.

Happy reading!

Lori Wilde

MY SECRET LIFE

BY

LORI WILDE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For April Birchell

Thanks so much for the inside scoop on

graphic artists and for sharing your own secret

life story with me. You’re living proof that

daring to follow your heart is worth the risk.

1

KATIE WINFIELD plotted the seduction with military precision.

Exactitude wasn’t her typical modus operandi. On the contrary, she was usually quite spontaneous and, in fact, had a reputation as something of a free spirit. But she and Richard had been flirting for weeks with no forward motion in their relationship. Tonight would thrust them toward a whole new level of intimacy.

Embracing the advance planning she normally eschewed, Katie picked up a pencil and ticked off the items on her To Do list.

Facial and pedicure. Check.

Sexy French-maid costume. Check.

Tantalizing new perfume. Check.

Catch-me, do-me stilettos. Check.

Auburn wig. Check.

Black silk stockings. Check.

Push-up bra. Check.

Erotic face mask. Check.

Lots and lots of condoms. Check.

Just reading over the list made her feel all warm and tingly and soft inside. This evening—during the ultra-posh Boston Ladies League charity costume ball thrown annually on the Friday before Labor Day weekend—she intended on bedazzling the pants off Richard Montgomery Hancock the III.

Katie had spent her lunch hour shopping. She’d just returned to work fifteen minutes late and out of breath. Furtively, she kicked the loot farther underneath her desk, and then darted a glance over her shoulder to see if her boss had noticed her tardiness.

“What didja buy?” asked her office mate, Tanisha Taylor, as she sauntered through the door, grande soy latte in hand.

Katie shrugged. “Nothing much.”

At five-nine, Tanisha towered over Katie’s own five feet three inches. They were both twenty-four and they’d started working as graphic artists at Sharper Designs on the very same day ten months earlier. It was the longest Katie had ever worked anywhere and she was starting to feel the strain of being in one place too long.

With her radiant, caramel complexion and deep chocolate-brown eyes, Tanisha was drop-dead beautiful. She wore her hair in a tightly braided shoulder-length style that made her narrow face look even thinner. She possessed the lean muscular build of a dancer, quite the opposite of Katie’s well-rounded, non-athletic figure. They made for an unusual looking pair.

Today her coworker was dressed in a lavender blouse made of pure silk that she wore tucked into a pair of straight-legged, black slacks and sensible black flats. But Katie knew from the wild nights they’d recently spent closing down bars that beneath the buttoned-down attire lurked the adventuresome soul of a Nubian goddess.

Tanisha spied the red-and-black striped bag from Fetching Fantasies and dove for it before Katie could block her. Tanisha set down her latte, perched on the edge of Katie’s desk and peeked inside the bag.

“Oo-la-la, what have we here? Parlez-vous français?” she teased.

Katie snatched the bag away and clutched it to her chest. “Just a costume for the Ladies League masquerade party. No biggie.”

Tanisha grinned. “You are going to be the hussy of the ball in that getup.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“Spill it. Who’ve you got lined up in your crosshairs?”

Returning Tanisha’s sly grin, Katie slowly shook her head.

“Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

Katie tilted her head, lowered her eyelashes and slanted Tanisha a sideways glance. “Do you know Richard Hancock?”

“Everyone in town knows Richard. What are you trying to do? Ruffle all the blue-blood feathers in Boston?”

That comment pulled her up short. Why did she suddenly feel as if her conscience were the target and Tanisha’s accusation a straight flying arrow?

Bull’s-eye.

“What makes you say that?”

“Why else would you want to hook up with Richard ‘The Dick’ Hancock? He’s sooo not your type.” Tanisha hopped off Katie’s desk and plopped down in front of her drafting board.

“What do you mean? Richard is a very handsome guy.”

“I’m not talking about his looks.”

“What’s wrong with Richard?”

“Nothing is wrong with Richard. What’s wrong is that you’re plotting to seduce him at the Ladies League ball.” Tanisha clicked her tongue.

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Face it, Katie. You’ve got a knack for causing a stir.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“How so?”

“Who got caught kissing the CEO’s son under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party, hmm?”

“Hey,” Katie said defensively. “How was I supposed to know he’d just gotten engaged?”

“That’smy point, K. You don’t always take the time to ask the right questions and it often lands you in hot water. Subconsciously, I think you enjoy causing a scandal.”

“I do not.” Did she?

“Either that or you’re into self-sabotage. Which is it?”

“Neither.”

“If you say so.” Tanisha sounded skeptical.

“I say so.”

“And the Nile is just a river in Egypt.” Tanisha snorted.

Was she sabotaging herself? As the youngest of three sisters growing up in a household run by their loving mother and strict naval-officer father, Katie had done a little acting out for attention, but so what?

She’d played hooky a few times in high school. Once or twice, she’d gotten caught sneaking out her bedroom window to meet a boyfriend. She enjoyed making Great-Aunt Josephine’s upper-crust nose wrinkle in disapproval by listening to hip-hop, using street slang and wearing jeans to family gatherings. Honestly, she’d never done anything too radical. Katie just liked having fun. Her motives were no more complicated than a Cyndi Lauper song.

Well, okay, maybe sometimes it got stifling with her two older, oh-so-perfect sisters. Brooke was the beautiful caregiver, Joey the smart go-getter and they were both as good as gold. By default, that left Katie with the title of wild child. But everyone had a family label, right? And she chose to wear hers proudly.

To be honest, even after their father had passed away five years ago, she and her sisters had still lived a fairy-tale life. They’d been lucky, blessed, until this past year when their world had totally collapsed.

Katie didn’t want to think about it, but the rush of memories overwhelmed her and she felt herself caught in a tornado of emotion that squeezed the breath from her lungs. She forced a smile, determined not to let Tanisha know about the sorrow knotting up inside her.

But a smile couldn’t stop the sad feelings.

In January, Katie and her sisters had received the horrible news that their beloved mother, Daisy, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Katie denied it for as long as she could. She’d pretended it was all a big mistake, that their mother was fine. But each day Daisy Winfield grew weaker and sicker until Katie could deny it no longer.

After that, she’d gotten angry. When Brooke had told her that she was stuck in the second stage of grief, the comment had pissed her off. Sainted Brooke, who never did anything wrong apparently leapfrogged right over the five stages of grief. She’d quickly skimmed from denial to anger to depression and bargaining straight on through to acceptance.

Katie, according to Brooke, had never gotten past anger.

Maybe she hadn’t. But how was she supposed to get past it? Her mother had only been fifty-three when she passed away in July, only four months after she’d been diagnosed. There hadn’t been nearly enough time to say goodbye.

It wasn’t fair.

Katie closed her eyes and inhaled sharply at the pain of remembering that awful night when their mother had died.

She’d been restless, feverish and babbling about a lost baby. Daisy had clutched her daughters’ hands and begged them to find the baby girl. They had no idea what baby she was talking about. The hospice nurse had assured them it was just the effects of the heavy pain medication she was on, but it had been upsetting to see her mother so distressed during her last minutes on Earth.

Involuntarily, Katie laid a hand across her heart and felt a solid ache for the loss of her mother.

“Katie?” Tanisha’s voice snapped her out of the past and back into the present.

She opened her eyes.

Tanisha had an odd expression on her face. She canted her head and a dark braid fell against her chiseled cheekbone. “Are you all right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t look all right.”

“I am.”

Tanisha nodded at the shopping bags crammed underneath Katie’s desk. “Does this shopping spree and Ladies League seduction, and other crazy behavior have anything to do with losing your mother?”

Her coworker was more perceptive than she imagined. Tanisha’s party-girl personality gave the impression that she wasn’t the type to pry into people’s deep, dark secrets, which was probably one of the reasons Katie had been drawn to her. Katie herself was not a fan of digging into her own psyche.

“Why would you think that?” Katie forced a laugh, but it came out sounding strangled and strange.

“I was thinking that maybe you’re looking to seduce Richard as a way of drowning your sorrow. You know, choking out the pain with pleasure.”

“No, no. Of course not. That’s ludicrous. I can’t believe you thought that.”

“This coming weekend is the two-month anniversary of your mother’s death.”

“So?”

“So maybe instead of facing what’s upsetting you, you’re seducing Richard Hancock.”

“Well, I’m not,” Katie snapped.

Tanisha held up her palms. “Oookay, I was merely checking. No need to get testy.”

“I don’t understand. What do you have against me hooking up with Richard?”

“He’s just not what you need right now.”

“Why not?” she asked. “He’s fun and flirts and likes to have a good time.”

“Exactly.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re two of a kind.”

“Again, why is that a problem?”

“Come on, be straight with me, do you even like Richard?”

Katie shrugged. “Sure.”

“What do you like about him?” Tanisha lifted a finger. “And you can’t say anything physical.”

“He’s…he’s…”

Why couldn’t she think of what she liked about Richard beside his thick blond hair and his radiant white-toothed smile and his big, broad tanned hands? He wasn’t terribly bright, nor was he horribly reliable. But come on, she wasn’t talking about marrying the guy. She just needed to get laid.

“Can’t do it, can you?”

“He’s funny.”

“No, you’re the funny one. He laughs at your jokes.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Oops! Tanisha was right, but Katie didn’t want to admit it. “Okay, then that’s what I like about him. He makes me feel funny.”

“Funny ha-ha or funny weird?”

“Now you’re just giving me a hard time. What’s the deal?”

Tanisha took a deep breath. “Let’s drop the conversation. We’ve both got work to wrap up before the holi day weekend.”

“No, seriously, I want to know.”

“You sure?” Tanisha arched an eyebrow. “You promise not to get mad at me?”

“What do you mean? I’m not an angry person.”

“You didn’t used to be,” Tanisha said.

“But I am now?”

“Well, sometimes, kind of, ever since your mother passed away.”

That stunned her. To hear it from Brooke was one thing. As the oldest, Brooke had often seen it as her job to monitor Katie and correct her behavior, but to hear it from her friend was another story.

“It’s okay,” Tanisha offered. “Everyone understands. You’ve been through a lot. But instead of hooking up with good-time guys like Richard, you might be at a point in your life where it’s time you checked out the other side of the fence. Maybe you should try being with someone more substantial.”

“I don’t get it. Where is this coming from? You party and flirt as much as I do.”

“Yeah, but since I’ve started dating Dwayne I’m looking at things a bit differently.”

“Don’t tell me that you and Dwayne are getting serious! You’ve only known him what? A month? And he lives in Denver. It’s easy to have a great relationship when you rarely see each other.”

“We’re not talking about me and Dwayne. We’re talking about you, and I think you’re doing this as some kind of rebellion you never outgrew. Deep down inside, you’re a lot more traditional than you want peo ple to believe.”

“Huh?”

“If you want to party and flirt and have lots of casual sex then great, do it. Don’t apologize for it. But if you’re doing it simply to prove to yourself that you’re not like the rest of your family, maybe you should take a second look at what kind of lifestyle will really make you happy.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Winfield,” boomed a gruff voice from the across the room.

Katie swiveled in her chair to see her boss, Max Kruger, standing in the doorway. A persistent frown rode his bushy eyebrows. Max was fiftyish, sported an out-of-style crew cut and had a penchant for wearing chinos with crisply starched white shirts. He looked like a basketball coach and managed his employees with the same sort of affable crustiness.

“Yes, Mr. Kruger?”

File in hand, Max strode into their office.

“You’re going to have to stay late tonight.”

“But it’s the Friday before the holiday weekend,” Katie said, feeling her plans for seduction slipping away. All she’d wanted was to end the evening in bed with Richard. She’d been dreaming about the feel of a masculine arm around her waist, the smell of a man’s scent in her nostrils, the sweet oblivion of an orgasm.

“So?”

“I have plans.”

“Do you like your job, Winfield?”

“Yes, sir.”

Max thrust the file at her. “Then you’re staying late. Kringle’s Krackers didn’t like the color fill on the logo. They want something more urban chic.”

“For overpriced saltines?”

“Hey, it’s what the customer wants.” He paused before delivering the really bad news. “And you’ve got to come up with the new palette by Tuesday. They need it right away for a special promo venture they have planned.” Max turned and stalked from the room.

Katie groaned and swiveled her chair to face her computer. Muttering darkly under her breath, she grabbed the Kringle’s Krackers file.

“Maybe you should look at this as a sign,” Tanisha said.

“What do you mean?”

“That you’re not supposed to seduce Richard Hancock at the Ladies League masquerade ball.”

She paused a moment, giving Tanisha’s suggestion some thought. “I could look at it as a sign,” she said. “Or I could take it as a challenge to see how quickly I can get this project fixed and get over there.”

Tanisha shook her head. “I gotta hand it to you, K. Whenever you put your mind to something, you put your mind to it.”

“Nah.” Katie grinned. “I’m just deeply into self-sabotage.”

The earthy smell of impending autumn hung thick on the evening breeze. Katie hustled from the Sharper Designs offices, nestled among other quaint structures in an older area of Boston not far from downtown.

At the turn of the twentieth century, the stately buildings had once been personal residences. Then in the 1970s, the area had been zoned commercial and most of the families had pulled up stakes and moved on, leaving their homes to be converted into offices by enterprising developers. The renovated homes created a cozy work environment, but parking space was at a premium and the nearest parking lot lay three blocks away.

It was almost 9:00 p.m. and the Ladies League ball would be in full swing. The streetlamps glowed hazy against the dreamy mist of fog rolling in from the harbor. Katie hurried down the street, her arms laden with the packages she’d bought on her lunch hour.

Her stilettos tapped smartly against the cement sidewalk. Underneath her light fall coat, she wore the French-maid costume. Not wanting to waste time by going home, she’d dressed at the office. She felt decidedly naughty and that naughtiness escalated her excitement and strengthened her resolve.

Come hell or high water, she was determined to seduce Richard Hancock.

Feeling both nervous and brave, walking the streets alone in her costume, she took a deep fortifying breath. What would Richard think of her outfit? She hadn’t told him what she was wearing because the French-maid getup was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Richard, however, had promised to come as Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with a Johnny Depp booty pirate’s wig. Pirate and captive was her favorite sexual fantasy.

Katie could hardly wait. The thrill of the chase quickened her pulse.

She scurried past the pet store that had just opened up the week before. Muted low-level lighting was on in the building and as she turned to step off the curb, she spotted him.

Her heart hammered and her breath caught. Her gaze met his and she was a goner.

The puppy, a honey-colored cocker spaniel, was caged inside the window. His big, sweet chocolate-brown eyes locked on hers.

“Oh.” She breathed, changed directions and walked back toward him. “Oh, you are too cute.”

Frantically, he wagged his tail.

In that instant Katie fell in love. How much is that doggy in the window? The song ran through her head.

You with a dog? Ha!

It was a laughable idea. She lived in a condo and was rarely home. Plus, she’d never had a pet, although she had always wanted one. She remembered begging for a puppy as a kid, but her parents had told her she was too irresponsible. She couldn’t even keep her room clean; how could they trust her to feed and walk a pet?

Katie pleaded with her mom and dad. They’d resisted. She made lavish promises. They balked. She found a stray and fed him cheesy puffs from her lunch to get him to follow her home. Their maid had called the animal shelter.

Finally, realizing how determined she was, her father had relented. He told her if she could prove she was responsible enough to take care of an animal, then she could have one. His test consisted of Katie caring for an egg as if it were a puppy.

She had to take the egg with her wherever she went, making sure never to leave it behind. Keeping track of that egg had been darned hard for an eight-year-old, but after two weeks without a misstep, she was picking out names for her puppy.

Then on the last day, Katie ran to greet her father at the front door as he returned home from work, the egg clutched in her hand. In her excitement, she’d tripped and fallen. Splattering the egg across the foyer in a vivid yellow splash of yolk.

She’d been inconsolable. Her parents were right. She was too irresponsible for a puppy.

Her stern yet loving father didn’t hold the accidental egg smash against her. He’d taken her to the nearest pet store and let her pick out the dog of her choice.

She had selected an exuberant cocker spaniel exactly like this one. Same honey-colored coat, same chocolate-brown eyes. She had named the puppy Duke. It had been the happiest day of her eight-year-old life.

Then she’d gotten Duke home and Brooke had immediately started sneezing. Her sister sneezed all through the weekend, her eyes swelling up, and her nose running. Daisy had taken Brooke to the doctor the next day and they’d returned home with the news that Brooke was highly allergic to dogs.

Katie had been forced to give Duke away. Even now, sixteen years later, she still felt the awful punch to her stomach when she thought about it.

“Hey, little guy,” she cooed, and crouched down to the puppy’s eye level and put her hand to the window front. He tried to lick her fingers, his pink tongue rubbing wetly against the glass.

From past experience, she knew that if she scooped him up in her arms his fur would feel soft as doll hair and he’d lick her face until she ended up on the floor giggling breathlessly while he nibbled at her ears.

Her stomach clutched. A mixture of emotions melded inside her—tenderness, regret and lingering irritation with her sister Brooke’s allergies because she had been forced to miss out on the joys of puppy ownership. Petty maybe, but it was how she felt.

You could have a puppy now.

No, it was too late to relive her childhood. There was no room in her busy life for a dog. Maybe someday, but not now.

“Gotta go,” she whispered, rising to her feet and waving goodbye. “There’s a party waiting and I’ve got a gorgeous man to seduce.”

The puppy whimpered and the wagging of his tail slowed. He sensed she was about to leave him.

“It’s better this way, truly. You wouldn’t be happy at my place. You’d be cooped up all day by yourself. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m only thinking of your best interest.”

The cocker spaniel stared at her with his big, adoring eyes.

Her heart ripped. This was silly. What was the matter with her? Getting sentimental over a dog. He was adorable. Someone else would buy him. She had no reason to feel guilty.

But somehow, she did.

She had to shake this feeling, had to shrug off the sadness weighing down her shoulders. Had to stop thinking about her mother and Duke, the puppy she’d only had for a weekend, and Tanisha’s eerily accurate assess ment of her.

Fun.

That was what she needed. A strong drink, loud music, a roomful of people dressed in colorful costumes.

And a man to seduce who wouldn’t look at her in the morning the way this puppy was looking at her now.

Head down, she rushed away, trying her very best to outpace the mental demons with which she had no desire to wrestle. She was going to that party and she wasn’t about to let anyone or anything keep her from seducing her pirate.

2

FOR MOST of his adult life, Liam James had been all about the job. Nothing mattered more to him than the real-estate company he’d built from the ground up and molded into a multimillion-dollar empire by the time he was thirty.

He loved his work and excelled in a crisis. It was the worrying beforehand and afterwards that did him in. He was always on the lookout for trouble. And in an odd way he was relieved when it came.

Troubleshooting was what he knew. Lack of trouble made him uneasy. Edgy anticipation. That was his true nemesis. It threw him off his game.

And he was feeling edgy tonight.

Especially since he was dressed in this ridiculous Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow costume. By the time he’d made it over to the costume-rental place, this was the only disguise left in his size. He’d already spotted three other Jack Sparrows at the party. Apparently the costume-supply companies had gone overboard on the pirate theme this year.

“What the hell am I doing here?” he muttered under his breath, and scanned the collected crowd at the Ladies League charity masquerade party.

The expensively decorated ballroom was filled with ultrathin, cosmetically enhanced women and self-important, overfed rich men in lavish costumes. The kind of highbrow shindig Liam loathed.

The question was rhetorical. He already knew the answer.

He was here to get an up close and personal look at the man whose seed had spawned him. The man who’d never acknowledged him, nor sent his mother one penny of child support beyond the three hundred dollars he had thrown at her thirty-two years ago, when he’d told her to get an abortion.

That man was Boston’s incumbent mayor, Finn Delancy. Who was up for reelection and was pegged to win it by a landslide.

For years, Liam had imagined this meeting. The moment when he introduced himself and told him, “Thanks for nothing, you worthless son of a bitch. My mother and I made it fine without you. And FYI, blue blood or not, I can buy and sell your ass three times over.”

But now that he was here, and it was the moment of truth, Liam wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it.

The mayor wore a cowboy costume—ten gallon hat, spurs that jangled, leather chaps, the whole nine yards. He looked utterly foolish but that didn’t stop a bevy of beautiful young women from collecting around him like bargain shoppers to a fire sale.

According to Liam’s mother, Jeanine, Finn had more sexual charisma than Bill Clinton and JFK all rolled into one. He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands. Personally, he couldn’t see the appeal.

“Something the matter, boss?” asked Liam’s right-hand man, Tony Gregory. Tony was dressed as one of the band members from KISS and damn if he didn’t look seriously freaky. Not at all like his normal affable self. “You seem uptight.”

Liam gave a sharp shake of his head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“So tell me again why I’m here?” Tony cocked his head and sent Liam an assessing gaze.

“My date and I decided it was better if we just stayed friends, so she’s not coming tonight. I had the extra ticket.” He couldn’t really call her his girlfriend. They’d only gone out a few times. “There’s no sense letting two hundred dollars go to waste.”

What he didn’t tell his most trusted confidant was that he badly needed moral support. Willingly admitting a weakness wasn’t something he did, not even to himself. He’d known Tony since their days at Harvard School of Business, but he’d never told him his deepest secret—that he was the bastard son of one of the most influential men in Boston high society.

“You lost another one?” Tony whistled. “Damn, and I really liked Brooke.”

“Don’t worry. We’re still friends.”

“What the hell do you do to chase off so many chicks? You’re rich, good-looking and you bathe regularly. Why don’t any of them stick around for more than a few dates? What gives?”

“I have a low tolerance for the frivolous,” Liam said, narrowing his eyes at Finn Delancy, who had just planted a kiss on the hand of a giggling starlet.

“You’re a workaholic is what you are, and women hate coming second to a man’s career.”

“True enough.”

“Did you like her?”

“Of course I liked her.”

“But you didn’t like her enough to make an effort to keep her?”

“We both realized we’re too much alike. And while Brooke is very pretty, there was no strong sexual spark between us. Plus, she told me she needed a man who could give her his undivided attention and I’m sorry—” he shrugged “—that’s not me. Work always comes first.”

Tony stared at him, mouth dropping open in amazement. “So…you’ve never been in love.”

Liam shifted his weight, crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you say that?”

“When a woman gets under your skin fully and completely, then you’ll willingly give up everything to be with her.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” Tony nodded sagely, his ebony KISS wig bobbing about his shoulders.

“If that’s your definition of love, then I’m glad I’ve never been there.”

“It’s how I feel about Jess. She’s the most important thing in the world to me,” he said, an ardent expression on his face. “Nothing comes before her. Ever.”

“Not even your job as my VP?”

“Nope.” Tony shook his head.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Still? Even after five years of marriage?”

“She fascinates me more each day. She’s my lover, my companion, my best friend.”

Liam snorted in disbelief. It was sad, but true. He’d never been in love, had never met any woman who fascinated him more than his work.

Although, he’d thought he was in love once, during his sophomore year in college, with Arianna Baxter, a high-society beauty. They’d been study partners, and he’d hoped for more but never had the courage to ask her out. Her family was so wealthy, and he was so poor. Then she’d invited him to a lavish sorority party and his hopes had soared. Except when he got there, he discovered the joke was on him. It was a “pauper party,” where the sorority sisters dared each other to bring the poorest, most socially unacceptable guy they could find. The kicker was that Arianna won first prize for bringing him.

“How come you keep staring at Mayor Delaney?” Tony asked.

“I’m thinking maybe I should go introduce myself to him.”

“He’ll just hit you up for a campaign contribution,” Tony remarked.

I’d love the chance to tell him where he could stick his request for money.

“He can ask. I don’t have to give it.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder at the mayor. “You’ve got your competition cut out for you, dude. Delancy’s surrounded.”

“Yeah, but I’ll figure it out. Get to schmoozing, Gregory. We’re here for the business contacts.”

“Actually, I came for the free food. Much as I love her, my Jess isn’t much of a cook.”

“So schmooze the buffet. I’ll catch up with you later,” Liam said, and then started across the crowded room, his glare beaded on the mayor.

The closer he got, the harder his heart thumped. This was the man who’d charmed Liam’s seventeen-year-old mother, bedded her, and then left her pregnant and heartbroken. He’d denied his paternity and waltzed glibly back to his wife. All the old resentment that had been seething in Liam since childhood fisted into a knot of pure hatred.

Revenge. The dish best served cold.

And he was about to dine.

Liam had the speech prepared. He had been practicing it over and over in his head for years. Waiting for the moment when his financial success eclipsed Finn Delancy’s. Waiting for the slam dunk. The one thing he’d never envisioned was giving his speech dressed as a pirate, but what the hell? It seemed fitting.

Every bigwig in Boston—not to mention a nice collection of reporters from the media—was in attendance at the party. His goal was to shame and embarrass the hell out of Delancy in the most public of forums.

And the Ladies League ball—the biggest charity event of the social season—definitely qualified. Determined to see this thing through, Liam reached for the document burning a hole in the back pocket of his black leather Jack Sparrow pants.

It was his birth certificate.

“Mayor Delancy,” Liam said and thrust himself through the circle of women surrounding his father.

Delancy swung his gaze around to fix on him. The man’s eyes were the same color of hazel as Liam’s own. They also shared the same jawline—strong, hard, resolute. “What can I do for you, son?”

Son.

The word hung in the air weighed with a meaning only Liam understood. But soon, very soon, Finn Delancy would understand it, as well, and so would his enamored constituents. What would they think of their illustrious leader then?

“For you,” Liam ground out, and thrust the folded birth certificate at Delancy. He had to clench his teeth to keep his emotions in check so that his hand wouldn’t tremble and give away his barely cloaked rage.

Delancy stared at him a moment, clearly confused. The celebutante at the mayor’s elbow tittered for no discernable reason. Liam stood there with the folded piece of paper held outstretched at arm’s length.

“Oh,” Delancy blinked. “Gotcha.”

The hell you do. I’m the one who’s got you.

Delancy reached in the front pocket of his cowboy vest. Going for his reading glasses? Liam guessed.

But the mayor did not extract a reading-glass case. Rather, he pulled out an expensive ballpoint pen and accepted the folded document.

“Turn around,” the mayor said.

“What?”

“Turn around?”

Liam was so surprised by the request he found himself complying and felt Delancy rest the birth certificate against his shoulder blade, using his back as a support while he scrawled something on the paper.

What the hell?

“Here you go,” Delancy said, proudly.

Liam turned back around, his shoulder tingling from the touch of the man he’d hated for more years than he could count. Delancy slapped the birth certificate into his palm as two burly bodyguards stepped forward.

“Mayor,” said bodyguard number one, “your limousine has arrived.”

“Excuse me.” Delancy flashed Liam an artificial smile. “I have another engagement.”

Bodyguard Number Two took the mayor by the elbow and led him away through the crowd. At the same time Bodyguard Number One gave his arm to the celebutante. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out with whom the mayor would be spending the rest of the evening.

Confused by what had just happened, Liam stared down at the folded birth certificate in his hand.

There, written in Delancy’s shaky scrawl were words that sent shame, anger, embarrassment and hatred shooting through Liam’s veins.

It’s always nice to meet a fan. Best wishes, Finn Delancy.

Liam’s lungs constricted, and he found it hard to breathe. His hand was trembling now from pure rage that no amount of teeth clenching could abate.

An autograph!

The low-life, egotistical, jackass had just autographed his illegitimate son’s birth certificate.

By the time Katie arrived at the Hightower mansion where this year’s Ladies League masquerade ball was being held, the crowd was at maximum capacity. Even in three-inch stilettos, she still had to stand on tiptoe to see above the costumed throng packed into the foyer and snaking out through the grand hallway.

Waiters squeezed through the mob, balancing silver trays laden with flutes of fizzy champagne. The music was so loud she could barely think, and the hum of hundreds of voices was even louder.

Where was Richard?

For one brief moment, she thought about going home, but then quickly reconsidered, recalling how much money she’d spent on this seduction. She reached for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and took a big swallow to ward off her building nervousness.

The decadently arousing song “Ooh La La” by the British group Goldfrapp came over the speakers, oozing glam sex with a throbbing bass. She found herself twitching her hips in time to the seductive tune and scanning the crowd for anyone she knew.

But the disguises had done their jobs. She recognized no one. Feeling giddy at the weirdness of all her friends looking like strangers, she finished off the champagne and set her empty glass on a nearby table.

Body tingling with taboo sensations, Katie winnowed around Spider-Man chatting up Cleopatra, slipped past Mickey Mantle talking about the New England Patriots with Elvis Presley and then put a hand to her waist-long auburn wig to make sure it was still on straight.

The eyeholes of the wide mask that covered more than half her face were too narrow and she was having problems seeing much of anything in her peripheral vision. It was stifling hot, even though there wasn’t much to her costume, with so many people sardined into the room.

She looked for a side exit. Maybe Richard had stepped outside for some fresh air. It might take her an hour to find him in this madhouse.

Disheartened, she settled her shoulder against the doorjamb leading into the room where the buffet was laid out. The next time another waiter circled in front of her, she reached for a second glass of champagne.

Could Richard have already left the party?

For the first time she noticed that men were brazenly staring at her. Lots of men, in fact.

Katie took a quick peak down at her costume. Good gosh. When she’d dressed so hurriedly at Sharper Designs she hadn’t realized exactly how low the neckline dipped. Her cleavage was practically spilling out of her dress.

Flustered, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from the buffet line, only to find more ogling men. She hurried into the ballroom, heart thumping with anxious excitement.

Apparently a French-maid was every man’s fantasy. She was accustomed to masculine attention, but not this intense. Men with cloaked identities lusting after her.

Where was Richard?

Tanisha was right. Pursuing Richard at the party was a bad idea. Go home.

“Don’t panic,” Katie muttered under her breath. “This is a costume party. They don’t recognize you any more than you recognize them.”

And then that’s when she saw him.

Mayor Delancy sweeping through the crowd with his bodyguards, headed toward the front door. Even in his cowboy costume it was impossible to miss the larger-than-life mayor.

But standing in the mayor’s wake was the man she’d been searching for. The very Caribbean pirate she’d come here to seduce.

Resentment pummeled Liam’s stomach like a heavyweight boxer finishing off his wobbly-kneed opponent. Reflexively, he curled his fist around the birth certificate autographed by his biological father. The desire to punch something was so strong he could taste it.

Raw, bitter, black.

For the last twelve years he’d worked toward this moment, worked and waited, and Delancy had pulled the rug right out from under him. What should he do now?

You’ll go at him again. You picked the wrong time, the wrong place, that’s all.

His mother had never wanted him to do this. She was happy now, married to a great guy and living on a farm in upstate New York. She thought he should just forget about Finn Delancy and be proud of everything he’d accomplished without his old man’s help.

But it wasn’t that simple for Liam. He couldn’t let it go. Anger twisted him up inside. The place was filled with privileged blue bloods, no doubt many of whom thought they could treat people any way they wanted and get away with it.

Liam blazed a hard gaze around the room. Frivolous, pampered rich people throwing silly costume parties. If they really wanted to give to charity, just write a check and don’t waste money on lavish celebrations.

You’re richer than most of them.

Yes, but he’d gotten his money the hard way. He’d earned every penny of it, not had it handed to him on a platinum platter.

Adrenaline, anger and frustration coursed through him. He needed to dissipate these feelings. Needed to get a firm grip on his emotions. Exercise. He needed exercise. A run in the park never failed to give him back his sense of control.

He had to get the hell out of here.

But then something caught his eye that made Liam forget everything except the fact he hadn’t had sex in almost a year.

There, on the other side of the ballroom, stood a gorgeous vixen in a French maid costume and she was staring straight at him, as if he were the man of her most forbidden midnight fantasies.

Coyly, she tossed her auburn wig.

Liam drove his hand through his own wig.

She licked her lips.

Drawing in a ragged breath, he hooked his thumbs through his belt loop.

Her eyes widened, and he saw a telltale red flush spread from her generous cleavage up her long slender throat.

His body hardened and he shifted, widening his stance, pointing his boots in her direction.

She lowered her eyelashes, dropped her hands. His gaze fell to the creamy inside of her wrist, and then tracked up her smooth, delicate skin to her shoulders. She peeked at him again and then slyly winked. Even with the barrier of her black mask cloaking most of her face, he was absolutely certain she was winking at him.

Boldly, Liam winked back.

Why the hell not? Sex was better than jogging for blowing off steam and after what had happened before with Delancy, he could certainly do with the distraction.

And she was one fine distraction with those shapely legs encased in lust-arousing black fishnet stockings. He could easily imagine himself tugging that silky material over the curve of her calf.

She angled him a long, lingering look.

He caught it, held it.

Quickly, she looked away again, but there was no mistaking her invitation.

Come play with me.

His blood revved hot.

She turned and walked away.

The thundering in his veins intensified. Curiosity grabbed him by the short hairs and hung on tight. Who was this mysterious woman? Did he know her? Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

She made her way through the crowd, hips rolling seductively, as aloof as the blue-blooded princess she undoubtedly was. When she got to the doorway, she paused. Her long fingers stroked the door casing as she tossed him a glance over her shoulder. She looked damned provocative, even in a room chock-full of people dressed in suggestive garb.

Follow me, her eyes whispered.

Normally, Liam wasn’t the type of guy who allowed his libido to overrule his common sense. But he was horny and desperately needing something to salve his battered ego, and she was hot and willing.

Why not go for it?

You shouldn’t let your anger at Delancy drive you to casual sex with a frisky member of the Ladies League simply to prove you can bed the social elite.

Maybe not, but his gaze was ensnared on her full, rich mouth that was clearly made for kissing. She pursed her lips, slowly blew him a kiss and then crooked her index finger.

This way.

Liam felt the impact of the gesture slam low in his groin. Simultaneously, hormones and endorphins lit up both his body and his brain. He gulped against the sheer force of the sensation. This French maid wanted to have some fun. Why shouldn’t he be the one to accommodate her?

He shook his head. What kind of spell had she cast over him? His tongue was cemented to the roof of his mouth. His eyes were transfixed by her lithe form. His nose twitched, suddenly sensitized to the scent of seduction in the air. His ears filled with a blinding white roaring noise.

She strutted off a second time.

Mesmerized, he watched her hips sway.

Liam went all Neanderthal then and lumbered after her. Must have woman.

By the time he reached where she’d been standing, she was already in the archway of another room. The place could have been completely empty. That’s how unaware he was of the crowd jostling around them.

The French maid paused again, but this time she did not look back. Apparently, she’d assumed he would follow.

She was correct.

Sending her auburn curls bouncing over her shoulders with a toss of her head, she turned to the right and started down a long corridor.

Liam made a beeline after her.

People were all around him, talking, laughing, joking, drinking, but he could have been stranded on a deserted island or trapped in a timeless vortex. He was that focused on Miss French Maid’s fanny as she slipped through the costumed throng.

She winnowed around a man the size of a boxcar dressed like Paul Bunyan and Liam couldn’t see her anymore. He quickened his pace, but at the next doorway, Paul Bunyan turned, blocking his path.

“Excuse me.” Liam stepped to his right.

Paul Bunyan moved in the same direction at the exact same moment.

Liam corrected, angling to the left.

So did Bunyan.

Was this on purpose? What was happening here? Liam frowned.

“Shall we dance?” Paul Bunyan chuckled, and Liam realized he’d been unnecessarily suspicious. By the time he got around the guy, he found himself faced with a long hallway filled with doors. His French maid had vanished.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

It’s all for the best. He was feeling much too vulnerable to be indulging in anonymous sex. That kind of solace, while great in the moment, wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t make up for the aching for a real father that had dogged his bones since he was a kid.

He stood there in the corridor, staring at the doors, wondering if she was behind one, not wanting to leave in case she reappeared. A minute ticked past. And then another.

Face it. She’s gone.

He turned to retrace his steps when suddenly the door behind him opened and a hand reached out to grab him by the scruff of his collar.

Long, manicured fingernails tickled the back of his neck and the next thing Liam knew, he was being hauled into a pitch black closet.

The French maid wrapped her arms around him and covered his face in kisses. At least he hoped it was the French maid.

She murmured something in French. He didn’t understand the language, but he did get the gist of her suggestive message. He tried to take a step back to clear his head, but her fingers were frantically working the buttons of his puffy white pirate shirt.

“Slow down,” he said, or rather tried to say. His throat was twisted so tight with need the sounds came out as scarcely more than an excited groan.

Her mind-boggling aroma, which smelled like a cross between apricots and stargazer lilies, filled his nose and shot up his desire. He could see absolutely nothing in the darkness, but the rest of his senses were fully attuned and ready to be indulged.

“What…how…who…” He wrenched out the words, unable to form a coherent thought.

“Shh.” She placed an index finger over his lips. Her skin tasted forbidden.

He thought of truffles and Russian caviar and saffron, the most expensive spice in the world. His nerve endings blazed. In the back of his mind, far off in the distance, sounding as if it had been locked up in a dry, dusty trunk for centuries, his muffled conscience tried to get his attention.

Hey, sport, this seems awfully odd. Sexy babe coming on to you, no strings attached. You know there’s always strings attached. Something’s wrong. Pull your head out of the hormone soup. Think this through. Last thing you want is to be like your old man. Hey, hey…

His scruples got no further because his brain short-circuited, closing off everything except the exquisite glory of her hot little mouth on his.

3

KATIE COULDN’t believe she was really doing this. It felt so naughty, so wicked, so wrong.

And yet, it felt so damn good.

She should have known Richard would be a world-class kisser. He was one of the hottest bachelors in Boston and very popular with the ladies. Why had she waited this long to seduce him?

He seemed so receptive, so responsive. When she curled her fingers around his forearm, he actually shivered.

She was shivering, too.

His mouth was heated and moist and he tasted of peppermint. His arm went around her waist and he tilted her backward in the closet.

The sleeves of the coats on the rack swayed with their movements, the rough material of the garments brushing provocatively against her bare arms. Farther down on the rod, a couple of empty coat hangers rattled against the sway.

His breathing was as ragged and raspy as hers. The bold pirate was plunging his demanding tongue past her teeth, plundering her mouth with a brazen zeal, taking what he wanted, leaving her breathless and clinging tightly to him.

He pulled her closer, crushing her against his broad, muscular chest. The stiff short skirt of her outfit crinkled at the pressure, and her scalp tingled hotly.

Each strumming beat of her heart was a sexual question mark.

What now?

What was going to happen next?

Would he run his rough hand up her leg?

Would he give her the mind-blasting orgasm she hungered for?

“Woman.” The word was dragged from his damp lips in a husky inhalation of breath. He pulled his mouth from hers and tracked his tongue down her chin to her throat. “You are so, so sexy.”

She threw back her head, exposing her throat, giving him greater access to the pulse fluttering at the hollow of her neck.

Oh, he smelled good. Like candy canes and the joy of Christmas morning. She wondered what cologne he had on. Usually Richard wore a much cooler, more sophisticated fragrance.

Hmm, should she ask him?

And possibly spoil the moment? Was she nuts?

That sobering notion quickened her breathing, but it didn’t scare her. And that, in itself, was terrifying.

What was wrong with her? Why was she so willing to walk the edge, to tempt fate, to push the envelope beyond common sense?

Rhetorical question. She knew the answer. Ever since her mother had died she’d felt an overwhelming need to make her emotional pain disappear.

Without Daisy as an anchor, it was as if she no longer had anything to lose. Why not gamble everything for a little fun? What was the point of holding herself in reserve?

Life was short. Live it to the fullest. That was her motto.

Thankfully, his honeyed mouth was back on hers, forcing the dark thoughts from her head, kissing her hard and deep. His wicked tongue did its job, making her forget the emotional pain inside her.

Katie allowed herself to be swept up by the headlong sensation. She refused to think. Her only desire was to feel.

She teetered on her high heels, lost her balance. They stumbled together, slamming into the back of the closet. He laughed then, a hearty, substantial laugh that made her giggle. His arm tightened around her waist.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“I like this French thing you got going on. It’s very hot.”

“Shh.” She wanted him to stop talking and start kissing her again.

“Listen…” he said, “I don’t want you to…”

“No talking,” she commanded.

The costumes made their encounter that much more exciting, but their garments were getting in the way. Reaching up, she pulled off his wig, wrapped her arms around his neck and plunged her fingers through his thick hair.

Her pirate took the hint and his tongue went back to doing maddening things to her mouth and causing wicked sensation to shoot straight into the center of her sex. His leather masked rubbed against hers, creating a sensation so erotic she made a soft mewling sound low in her throat.

Yes, take me to oblivion.

He made a corresponding noise, decidedly more masculine than hers. He ground his pelvis against her pubic bone and she arched her hips, letting him know exactly what she wanted.

Blood surged through her veins in a headlong rush. The darkness was absolute, the anonymity acute. It was incredible.

He kissed her, fiercely, passionately. He tasted so good—all masculine strength and sizzling heat. Restlessly, she tossed back her head, exposing her throat to him.

“Nibble on my neck,” she murmured.

The minute his sharp teeth sank lightly into the tender flesh at her hollow of her throat, she groaned with pleasure.

Quiet. She had to be quiet. People might hear. But she couldn’t even think straight, much less fret about the potential for public humiliation. At this point, she didn’t care.

His palms skimmed up underneath her flimsy getup, his hands scorching the bare skin of her belly.

Desire exploded into the small tight closet with them, sending Katie on a mission of frantic grappling. She snatched at his shirt, tugging and pulling. She heard buttons pop, spit to the hardwood floor with a series of soft plopping sounds.

Once his chest was exposed, she buried her face there and inhaled deeply. His chest hairs tickled her nose and she held the hem of his shirt, still clutched in the fist of her hand.

He growled.

A tiger.

She was in the dark with a tiger.

A sweet fear washed over her. A sugary terror clogging her arteries and making her gasp for more. Her entire body tingled with fear and joy and hungry, secret longing.

Her knees wobbled. Sensing her weakness, he pressed her back flat against the wall of the closet, holding her in place with his hip.

She was on fire for him. She had never wanted any man this badly.

He didn’t speak.

Golden silence.

This was very good. Dark and anonymous and quiet. Nothing but heavy, excited breathing. Not hearing his voice made her feel as if he were pure fantasy and it escalated her excitement beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of.

She felt raunchy and rash and ready. This was exactly what she needed to bypass all her troubles.

Wildly, she pressed the tip of her tongue to his broad chest and licked a long path up to the hollow of his throat. He tasted like a seafaring man. Gloriously rich and salty.

She heard her own pulse thrumming through her ears and it sounded like a river rushing downstream.

His movements were measured, controlled, but at the same time relaxed and easy. His fingers were now trailing circles around her nipples, teasing them into taut peaks.

In the inkiness, in the masquerade, he was a creature of the night. Sleek and primal, sexual in a way that quickened her breath and slicked her palms, along with other, more feminine parts of her anatomy.

The stagnant air in the closet was heavy with the sound of their rough, synchronized breathing. It smelled of the musk from their throbbing bodies. It tasted twisted and taboo.

Who—she found herself thinking in the short gaps between utter delight—are you?

She told herself it was Richard. It had to be Richard. Who else could it be?

Her mind thrilled to the possibilities. Why did she find the idea of a masked stranger so compelling? Why did she suddenly want him not to be Richard?

Was she losing her mind? Had she lost it already? Slipping over the edge of reason in a smoking-hot French-maid uniform?

He kissed her again, the glide of his tongue smooth and perfect.

Her blood moved recklessly through her. There was that thrill again, rolling like an electrical storm. Searing and stark and scary.

The pirate growled again, low and guttural. The sound vibrated through her, set her nerve endings flaming, causing her hips to twitch involuntarily and the deep folds of her moist sex to burn for him.

He unzipped her costume and slipped it off her shoulders in the darkness. Then he unhooked her bra, exposing her bare breasts. The pirate lowered his head and began to sweetly suckle one of her aching nipples while lightly pinching the other between his thumb and index finger.

The synthetic material of his fake beard tickled her skin.

Something inside of her slipped, a ship freed from its moorings, set adrift at sea. She reached up to plane his face with her hand, feeling the solid jut of his cheekbone against her palm.

His mouth was skillful. Gentle when she needed him to be, firm when she needed that, too. This pirate was taking his time.

While Katie appreciated his unanticipated leisure, at the same time it added to her anxiety. The longer this took, the more likely they were to be caught.

And that sent a fresh set of brand-new thrills and chills chasing up her spine.

His arms were strong, comforting. Oddly, in spite of the unconventional circumstances, she felt safe. She wished it wasn’t so dark, wished she could see his face.

What, and spoil the fantasy?

He reached down and, grabbing one of her legs, lifted it up and cocked her heel against his hip. Katie felt her stocking being stripped away. He peeled off her stiletto. Let it clatter to the floor. Carefully, he let her leg drop, then repeated the process with her other leg.

She’d intended this encounter to be a clothes-on quickie, but it wasn’t turning out that way. He wasn’t playing his part how she’d imagined.

His breath on her bare skin was deep and rich—black velvet. Nimbly, his fingers worked, tickling her skin. She giggled against the lightness of his touch, the freedom it unwound in her.

Soon, she was standing with her back against the wall wearing nothing but black silk panties.

“You don’t have to get undressed,” she said, taking care to keep her voice disguised, to keep the fantasy going. “We should make this fast. In case someone comes looking for us. We don’t want to get caught doing the nasty at the Ladies League ball.”

“Why not?” he said rough and low. “It’s the perfect high-society sacrilege.”

She frowned. What did he mean by that? She wished she could see his face.

The room was ebony. Only the light from underneath the crack in the door penetrated the darkness.

He said nothing, but she heard the quiet whisper of his zipper sliding down.

She sucked in her breath.

Wet heat gushed through her body. The muscles deep within her pelvis tightened. Her heart beat faster and she surprised herself by how quickly she grew slick.

His hand was a hot pressure as he reached out to trail it across the soft silk between her legs. He stroked her gently, his fingertips executing a slow, deliberate circle.

Whimpering softly against the erotic sensation, she grasped his arm for support.

He kissed her tenderly while his fingers kept exploring. A warm, soft kiss of satisfaction.

Lust swamped her. She had to have him. Had to have him or she would surely die. She ran her tongue around his lips and he made a masculine noise of enjoyment.

He slipped her panties down then, edging them over her hips, below her thighs. When her panties fell to her ankles, she kicked them off and curled against him.

He sank slowly to his knees.

Uh-oh. What now?

She felt the touch of his lips against her upper thigh and pulled in a hissing breath as his mouth inched toward the place Katie most wanted him to touch with that quicksilver tongue.

Wanted it, but was she ready for it? Few had ever gone there. She put a hand to the back of his neck. “Wait, I…”

He lifted his head. “Don’t be shy,” he whispered, and then made a promise. “I won’t hurt you.”

His strong outer lips rested against her soft inner lips. Instant heat. Boiling, building. She was a teapot—hot and ready to let off steam. She had no idea she was capable of feeling such physical intensity.

He made a sound of hearty appreciation and clasped her tightly in his muscled arms, pressing her hips firmly against the wall. Pinning her. His prize.

Her hands were frantic, raking through his hair. She was desperate. Raw. Hungry need personified. Taking lust, turning it into trust.

Foolish, perhaps, but here she was.

She accepted what he gave her. She didn’t ask for more. There was no reason. She did not require it. He conferred upon her everything she desired.

No one had ever touched her in the way Richard was touching her. Inside. Deep inside. He found all her secrets, exploited them to full advantage.

It felt so good it almost hurt. This free-falling pleasure and pain.

Lost. She was afloat in the sweep of his tongue, the moist heat of his mouth. The tension was impossible. His tongue teased and pleased. Taunted and tamed.

She wanted to cup his head in the back of her hands, drop to her knees and face him in the darkness.

But she was afraid. Afraid to learn too much. Afraid to ruin the fantasy. Afraid of being caught in a whirlwind of chaos from which she might never recover.

His head was buried between her legs, his tongue stroking her hooded femininity. She savored the wild ride. This encounter was special. Something she’d remember to the end of her days. She did not want reality to intrude.

He teased her clit, circling slowly at first, and then faster and firmer, pulling her toward a beautiful climax. But he wasn’t going to let it be that easy. He eased off on the pressure, slowed down. And then he took her up again. Up and down in a tumult of sensation until she thought she’d go mad with need.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she murmured. “I have to…feel you. Now.”

He pulled back, rose to his feet. She heard him rustling. What was he doing? She was so wet and hot and achy. She needed him. Now, now, now.

“Do you have a condom?” she whispered.

“Got it covered,” he said.

There was a slight tearing sound of a small package being opened.

She touched him down there, through the opening in his leather pants. Her hand closing around his steely shaft, and she heard his low groan of pleasure.

He was so hard. So big.

“Hurry,” she insisted, growing suddenly scared against a nameless sense of dread crowding inside her chest. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said, pushing her shoulders against the wall, “and grab the clothing rods.”

Heart pounding, she did as he asked. One hand wrapped around the hanging rod on the right, the other on the left, her legs serpentined around his hard waist. She could feel the tip of his penis throbbing against her bare buttocks.

She felt like an acrobat, a trapeze artist. It added to the excitement.

Carefully, he entered her warm wet center. She could feel the material of his pants rubbing against her thighs as he moved. Katie reflectively closed her eyes, gasping in reverence.

What an incredible sensation.

She was entranced, filled up by him. She relished the wonder of his body, the excitement of her fantasy, of the life force pulsing through him and into her and back again.

He pushed into the hilt.

And then he began a slow, meticulous thrusting.

Swept away, she matched his tempo, arching her back, pushing against him, using the hanging rods as a fulcrum, increasing the tension. The rhythm between them was quite extraordinary. They were so in tune with each other.

He thrust, she parried.

It was almost mystical.

This slow, sweet journey. The intensity rising and swelling, dropping and climbing.

“More,” she gasped, barely hanging on to her French accent. “I’ve got to have more.”

“Greedy,” he accused.

Yes, yes, she was greedy and not the least bit remorseful.

Biting need flowed through her body. She needed this intimacy, needed him. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and she held him tightly.

The orgasm rose in her, in a hot, loud knot. She let go of the hanging rod so she could stuff her right fist against her mouth to hold back her cries of ecstasy.

He gave one last thrust and his body twitched with the power of his own climax. The sound of his breathing was rough against her ears.

And just after his release, she came as she’d never come before. Wave upon wave. An entire ocean crashing through her.

He held her as she shuddered in his arms. Then, after they’d recovered, he dressed her in the dark, tenderly slipping on her stockings and her shoes. When he was finished he pulled her to his chest and kissed her softly one last time.

“Oh, Richard.” She breathed. “You were magnificent, as I knew you would be.”

He made a startled noise and stepped away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Katie felt his alarm. Hurriedly, she pulled the mask that had gotten pushed up on top of her head back down over her face and quickly adjusted her wig.

“Richard?”

He did not answer, but the coats mumbled as he brushed past them in his effort to get out of the closet and away from her.

Katie fumbled on the wall for the light switch and found it just as he opened the door.

The closet was bathed in light.

Their eyes met.

The pirate captain raised his palms. Katie found herself staring at the barbed-wire tattoo encircling his left wrist. Alarm shot through her, but her brain was still not processing what her eyes were telling her.

This man was not Richard Hancock.

This man was Liam James.

With dawning horror, Katie gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d just had sex with her sister’s boyfriend!

STUNNED, Liam could only stare as the woman in the French-maid costume almost knocked him down getting past him. In the stark glare of the closet light bulb, he saw her auburn wig was knocked askew, blond curls were peeking out around it.

“Wait,” he called.

She tossed him one last panic-stricken look over her shoulder. Even with the mask covering most of her face, she seemed oddly familiar. Did he know her?

He shook his head to clear it. Who?

Brooke. She reminded him of Brooke Winfield.

The synapses in his brain fired rapidly as alarming thoughts crowded in. Had Brooke dressed up in the French-maid costume to seduce him at the party? But Brooke had brown hair and she was taller than this woman.

And then it dawned on him and he recognized where he’d seen that saucy little walk before.

She was Katie Winfield. Brooke’s baby sister.

Shoving a hand through his hair, Liam groaned aloud.

He had to go after her, had to explain himself. Had to justify what he’d done. Had to make sense of what they’d done together.

Liam took off after her, but she’d already disappeared in the crowd. People were staring at him, pointing and tittering. Agitated, he glanced down and saw that his bare chest was exposed from where Katie had ripped the buttons off his shirt and that his pants were unzipped.

Frantically, he tugged up his zipper as he ran. He was desperate to talk to her before she got away. But by the time he reached the front door, she’d already fled to the parking lot.

“Katie!” he yelled as he stumbled down the stairs and out onto the asphalt road, just as her red BMW convertible sped past him.

All he saw were her taillights disappearing into the darkness, leaving him feeling like the world’s biggest jerk.

4

KATIE SPENT the remainder of the weekend holed up in her condo. She sprawled out on the couch, eating handfuls of caramel popcorn, guzzling hot chocolate and immersing herself in a romance-classics movie marathon. When Katie was a kid and feeling down in the dumps, her mother would get out the popcorn, the cocoa and the old movies to pick up her daughter’s flagging spirits.

Normally the self-indulgent trick pulled Katie right out of the doldrums. This time, however, it hadn’t worked. For one thing, it reminded her of Daisy and that made her sad. For another, watching lovers repeatedly meet, mingle, mate and marry hammered home what she already knew—sisters don’t stab sisters in the back by sleeping with their boyfriends.

She would never be able to look Brooke in the eye again.

Cut yourself some slack. You didn’t do it on purpose.

No, Katie might not have done it on purpose, but once again, she hadn’t looked before she leaped. Witness the result of her recklessness.

She was so ashamed.

Brooke doesn’t have to know. No one has to know.

Except Liam knew.

Maybe not, she hoped. Maybe he hadn’t recognized her with the costume and the mask. She prayed it was so. But here was the terrible truth: sex with Liam was the best sex she’d ever had, and she wanted to do it again and again and again.

It wasn’t him, she tried to convince herself. It was the masquerade, the semipublic location, the forbidden thrill of it all.

Oh God, she’d made such a mess of things.

By Monday evening, she was so sick of her own company she picked up the phone and called Tanisha.

“How was your weekend,” she asked her best friend.

“Great,” Tanisha purred like a satisfied kitten. “Dwayne and I spent the entire weekend in bed. In fact, he just left. How was your weekend?”

“Sucky.”

Tanisha hissed in her breath. “Things didn’t go so well with Richard?”

“I wasn’t with Richard,” Katie mumbled.

“Oh?”

“I had sex with my sister’s boyfriend,” she blurted.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Katie wailed. “I thought he was Richard. He was wearing a pirate costume. It was an honest mistake but now I feel so—”

“Hold the phone, girlfriend. I’ll be right over.”

An hour later, Tanisha showed up on her doorstep, a bag of takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the block clutched in her hand and a half gallon of chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream in the other.

“This sounded like the kind of emergency best soothed by food,” she explained, and breezed into the condo. “Besides, I’m starving. Dwayne and I must have burned up a thousand calories.”

“Braggart,” Katie accused.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be doing some bragging of your own if the shoe was on the other foot.” Tanisha dished up sweet-and-sour chicken and several kinds of dim sum on two paper plates. She passed one of the plates to Katie and handed her a set of chopsticks.

The delicious smell teased Katie’s nose and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything but caramel popcorn all weekend long. They sat at the wrought iron bistro table in the breakfast nook.

“Give me all the details,” Tanisha said. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Cringing, Katie told her everything.

“Look,” Tanisha said when she’d finished, “it was a case of mistaken identity. No one can fault you for that. If anything, he’s the one who should be ashamed for sneaking off with someone else when he’s dating your sister.”

“That’s true.” She perked up. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I betrayed Brooke.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose. How serious is Brooke and this guy, anyway? And what’s his name?”

“Liam James.”

Tanisha’s eyes widened. “The real-estate mogul who was nominated Boston’s most eligible bachelor by Young Bostonian?”

“That’d be the one.”

“All I gotta say is, girl, when you screw up, you do it in style.”

Katie groaned and sank her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do anything.” Tanisha shrugged. “Forget all about it.”

“I can’t.”

Tanisha studied her for a moment. “This is really eating you up inside, isn’t it?”

Katie nodded miserably.

“Your guilt only underscores what I was trying to tell you on Friday.”

“Which is?”

“You’re into self-sabotage.”

“You’re probably right,” Katie said glumly, poking at her dim sum with a chopstick. Of all the dumb things she’d done in her life, this had to be one of the dumbest.

“There’s a cure, you know.”

Katie looked up from her plate. “And that is?”

“Give up casual sex.”

Katie arched an eyebrow. “This coming from the queen of casual sex.”

“Not anymore,” Tanisha said.

“Oh?” Katie straightened.

Tanisha giggled girlishly, which was a surprise because she was not the giggly type. She pulled a key from her pocket. “Dwayne gave me a key to his place and I gave him one to mine.”

“Seriously?”

“I think my wild partying days are behind me.”

“That’s great.” Katie got up to give her friend a hug.

“Thanks,” Tanisha beamed. “I feel so happy.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I wish you could find someone. When was the last time you had a serious boyfriend?”

Katie gulped. She’d never had a serious boyfriend. She’d been having too much fun playing the field. “I’m not really ready for a serious relationship. I just want to stop making stupid mistakes.”

“Then turn over a new leaf and empower yourself.”

“I thought I was empowered.”

“If you were empowered, then you wouldn’t be feeling miserable over it.”

Katie blew out her breath. “Okay, so how do I empower myself?”

“Stop basing your decisions on an if-it-feels-gooddo-it philosophy. Think about the consequences of your actions,” Tanisha instructed.

“Can you bottom-line it for me?”

“When it comes to sex, you’re going to have to go cold turkey.”

LIAM SPENT the weekend working. Or at least trying to work.

Hell, who was he kidding? He hadn’t gotten a lick of work done. He’d spent Saturday and Sunday at the office staring at the contracts on his desk and all he could see was Katie Winfield decked out in that devastating French-maid outfit.

He had taken his anger at Finn Delancy out on her, and he had no idea how to make amends.

Maybe you shouldn’t make amends. Maybe you should leave well enough alone. She’s obviously embarrassed that she mistook you for this Richard dude, or she wouldn’t have run off. Let it go.

But Monday afternoon, when he still hadn’t been able to concentrate, he was starting to get concerned. He’d never been stymied like this. He didn’t like it. To clear his head, he went for a jog in the park, but it didn’t help.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, he telephoned Tony.

“Red Sox are playing tonight,” Liam said. “Wanna go?”

“Just you and me?”

“Yes. Unless Jess wants to come.”

“She’s over at her sister’s helping her redecorate her living room.”

“So we’re on?”

“I don’t believe it. You? Taking time out for a ball game with your best buddy?”

“We’ve got season tickets, no sense in wasting them.”

“But we haven’t gone to a game without a business client tagging along since…well, never.”

“We went in college.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Really? I could have sworn we did.”

“Didn’t happen.”

“Well, I guess it’s time we rectified my oversight. Meet you at the ticket counter. They throw out the first pitch at seven.”

Tony was lounging at the front gate when Liam arrived at Fenway Park.

“You gonna tell me what this is really about?” Tony asked as they made their way to their seats juggling beers and hot dogs.

“What? I want to watch a few innings with my best friend.”

“You sure there’s not something you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. But if there was something, you’d tell me, right?”

“You’d be the first to know.”

“I doubt it,” Tony mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“You keep everything bottled up, buttoned down. You don’t talk to anybody about anything except work.” Tony waved at hand at Liam’s starched shirt. “I mean, have you ever in your life, just once, let yourself go?”

“No,” he said, but then he thought, French maid in a closet.

“What are you so afraid of?” Tony asked.

“Who says I’m afraid of anything?”

“Everybody’s afraid of something. I’m trying to figure out why you push yourself so hard?”

It sounded like a dumb question to him. How could he not push himself hard? He had a lot to prove. “Money,” he said.

“Don’t give me that. You have enough money to last you a lifetime.”

What was he afraid of? Failure? Falling in love? He gulped back a swallow of beer. “Okay,” Liam admitted after a long moment, “it’s about a woman.”

Tony sat up straighter. “Brooke?”

“No. Her sister, Katie.”

“I’m listening.”

Liam glanced over his shoulder to see how close the nearest fan was sitting and lowered his voice. “I hooked up with her at the masquerade party.”

“Hooked up as in—”

“Yeah.”

Tony whistled and slugged him lightly on the upper arm. “You dog. Who knew you had it in you?”

Liam glowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Balancing his hot dog on one knee, Tony held up a palm. “Nothing, dude. Settle.”

Agitation had him shifting in his seat. “The deal is, I can’t get her out of my head.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“Of course it is. I can’t concentrate on work.”

“You’ve never really felt this way about a woman before?” “No.”

“How many girlfriends have you had?”

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. Six, seven. But none of them ever messed with my head like this.” Other than Arianna, and that was a whole different kind of head game.

“That’s because—since I’ve known you anyway—you’ve always picked career-driven women who complemented your lifestyle. You’ve never been out with one who made your question your priorities.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Katie Winfield, this woman you hooked up with at the party, she’s different.”

Liam nodded.

“Totally not right for you. Impulsive, I’m guessing. Adventuresome.”

“Yes, yes.” Impatiently, he tapped his fingertips on the back of the seat in front of him. “What’s your point?”

“For the first time in your life you’ve found a woman who makes you feel totally alive.”

He wanted to deny it, but it was true.

“Compared to her,” Tony went on, “work seems dull and pointless.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Got bad news for you, buddy boy.” Tony grinned. “There’s only one way to beat this thing.”

“How’s that?”

“Embrace it.”

Liam didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed. “What do you mean, embrace it?”

“You’ve been working nonstop since you were what? Sixteen?”

“Yeah.”

“And all this time, you’ve been keeping your emotions in check.”

“What’s your point?”

“It was bound to happen.”

Frustration had him fisting his hand around his beer. “What was bound to happen?”

“You gotta have a little fun at some point. Kick up your heels. Let your libido run wild.”

“You think so? You think if I embrace this feeling and go with it, have a good time with this woman, it will eventually pass and then I can get back to work?”

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