“I want you, Lily.”

Lily stared at Tony, feeling her muscles melt.

“Tell me that you don’t want me,” he continued, “and all our future dealings will be strictly business.”

Her skin was icy and hot all at once. “I can’t tell you that.”

He lowered his head again and closed his teeth around her bottom lip, then soothed the small pain with his tongue. “Then tell me you want me to make love to you.”

She thought of lying to him, but then he leaned down and scraped his teeth against her neck. “You don’t play fair,” she said, a shiver running down her spine.

He smiled—a very slow smile that ruthlessly made use of his dimples. “I play to win. Tell me you want to make love with me.”

She gave up trying to resist. Wrapping her arms around him, she conceded, “I want you. I really shouldn’t, but I want you so much.”

He let out a groan of triumph. “Good thing…because you’ve got me. You’ve had me from the moment you crawled into my bed.”

Reaching down and pulling the string on his sweatpants, Lily said playfully, “Then let me see what I’ve got….”

Dear Reader,

I love writing WRONG BED books! What greater trouble can you plunge your heroine into than putting her in bed with the wrong man? And that’s just the beginning of the fun!

Fresh from a success seminar in Tahiti, Lily McNeil is a new woman. The failures in her past are history. Not only has she shed twenty-five pounds, but she’s also permanently erased the little black cloud that has hovered over her head since she was ten. And to prove to her skeptical family that the old Lily no longer exists, all she has to do is acquire Henry’s Place, a small family-run hotel in Manhattan. So what if she has to lie to the owner to do it? No problem. The new Lily can handle it.

All Tony Romano wants is to keep his hotel running. When the sexy-voiced Lily McNeil offers her consulting services and promises that she can solve all his problems, he knows that she’s lying through her teeth, but he figures he can handle her. He’ll pick her brain, then send her packing. Tony’s plan begins to unravel the moment he wakes up to find Lily sleeping in his bed. Then he wants to handle her, all right. And he does. Now all he has to do is figure out how to hold on to his hotel—and keep Lily in his bed permanently.

I hope you have as much fun reading Tony and Lily’s story as I had writing it.

All the best,

Cara Summers

Early to Bed?

Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Jane Frances Manor, my cousin and one of my biggest fans. Thanks for your unfailing praise and support! I love you, Janie.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

1

YOU CAN HAVE whatever you want.

Lily McNeil chanted the phrase silently, just as they’d taught her to do in the week-long success seminar she’d recently attended in Tahiti.

Your past does not have to equal your future.

That was phrase number two in her daily mantra. Somehow, the idea that she could transform herself into someone her family could respect had been easier to believe on a sunny beach with all those bright blue waves pounding on the shore.

Of course, the monsoon presently hammering Manhattan was having a debilitating effect on both her hairdo and her ego. And the fact that the taxi driver had dropped her off across the street from her hotel was a slight problem. Rain and wind lashed at her as she waited on the curb for the traffic to clear.

You live under a black cloud.

No. Tightening her grip on her rolling suitcase and her briefcase, Lily dashed across the street. She’d been ten when her stepbrother Jerry Langford-McNeil had first flung the black cloud taunt at her. For years after that, she’d carried the image around in her mind of a dark, rain-filled mist hovering over her wherever she went.

No more. No way. No how. Black clouds were in her past—and her past did not have to equal her future. In the past, her father had never approved of anything she’d ever done. But she was about to change all that.

True, her confidence had slipped a notch when the company plane had failed to pick her up in Tahiti. But she’d managed to charter another plane to bring her to New York. And she was here. Mission accomplished. Dripping, she pushed through the revolving doors of Henry’s Place. Then she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass.

The old Lily was staring back at her—unfashionable, insecure, and overweight.

No. She was not that person anymore. Stopping short on the worn oriental carpet that ran up the stairs to the lobby, Lily squared her shoulders, drew in a deep breath and pictured herself the way she wanted to be. Visualization was the key to success. That’s what the energetic motivational guru had preached on his island. Her five-hundred-dollar hairstyle might be a little under the weather. She risked a peek in the mirrored wall to her right and felt her stomach plummet. Okay—a lot under the weather. As for her clothes—she closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. They could be replaced.

She risked another peek, just to make sure that the twenty-five pounds she’d struggled so hard to lose over the past six months hadn’t somehow crept back onto her frame. They hadn’t. Relief streamed through her. She might look like a drowned rat, but at least she was now a slim one.

Your past does not have to equal your future. Squaring her shoulders, Lily opened both eyes and faced herself in the mirror. She’d changed on the inside, and that was what was important. More important, her father, J. R. McNeil of McNeil Enterprises, had given her a job and she had to prove to him that she could do it.

“Beware the Ides of March.”

With a start, Lily whirled to see a tall ethereal-looking woman standing at the top of the short flight of stairs. She wore a gauzy caftan in faded shades of blue, and her slivery white hair flowed down over her shoulders. She might have been a witch sprung right off the pages of a Harry Potter book. But the voice didn’t go with the rest of her. It had an “I don’t take any crap” tone that sounded more like a five-star general’s. The contrast aroused Lily’s curiosity, but then she met the woman’s eyes and felt a chill right through to her bones.

“Beware the Ides of March,” the woman repeated.

Any mention of the Ides of March brought two memories to Lily’s mind. First of all, the fifteenth of March was her birthday, and she’d just celebrated it two weeks ago. And anyone who’d studied Latin in school would recognize the warning that the soothsayer had given to Julius Caesar when he’d marched into Rome. Of course, the soothsayer’s prophecy had been dead on. As if on cue, lightning flashed and a huge clap of thunder rattled the glass doors.

Lily jumped.

“Hurry!” Raising one jeweled hand, the witch beckoned to her. “Disaster is near.”

Lily climbed the short flight of stairs to the lobby. If this was the way the hotel greeted its guests, it was no wonder that Henry’s Place was in dire financial straits. And it had such potential. Its location within walking distance of the theater district as well as Central Park was prime.

Though her father had shown her the file on the hotel the Romano family had been running for almost fifty years, the picture that the lobby presented was worth much more than the thousand words of his report. Decaying was the word that came to mind. Why in the world was Anthony Romano, the family spokesperson, refusing to sell to McNeil Enterprises when they obviously couldn’t take care of the place themselves?

In the end, the answer to that question wouldn’t matter. During her week’s stay at the hotel, her job, as her father described it, was to gather all the information she could to ensure that McNeil Enterprises’ next offer would not be refused. Find the weaknesses so we can exploit them.

“Leave your bags here.” The witch waved a hand at the mahogany reception desk that formed an L against one of the walls.

Lily immediately set down her suitcase and briefcase and followed the woman. She would have felt a lot better about the job her father had given her if she hadn’t had to lie about why she’d really come to Henry’s Place. She’d told Anthony Romano that she was heading up a new department at McNeil Enterprises that offered consulting services. She could provide him with an analysis that would allow him to revitalize the hotel. She was even supposed to offer him a financing plan. Of course, it would be a fake. Her real job was to ferret out information that would allow her father to force the sale.

The old Lily would have balked at the deception, and she would have described the job as spying. But the new Lily had to prove to her father and her stepfamily that she was fully capable of assuming a leadership position at McNeil Enterprises.

On the bright side, she might actually be doing the Romano family a favor. Their hotel looked as if it might not survive much longer in its present condition. As she followed the witch/soothsayer to a far corner of the lobby, she couldn’t help noting the marble floors were chipped in some places, gouged in others. The carpets covering them, though they must have been charming in their heyday fifty years ago, were badly in need of repair. As for the furniture—the tiny, exquisitely carved settee creaked ominously when her soothsayer sank down on it.

It was only then that Lily noticed the white pillar candles and the crystal ball on the small table in front of the settee.

“Sit.” The woman waved her to a chair across from her.

Still wondering how the five-star general’s voice could come out of that fragile body, Lily did as she was told.

“Give me your hand.”

Lily hesitated.

“Hurry. You don’t have any time to waste. The future is yours to shape.”

Lily stared at the woman. The words were such a close paraphrase of her motivational guru’s words that she found herself extending her hand. As soon as the long slender fingers closed over hers and turned her palm up, she felt another chill move through her. For a moment, the lobby became so still that Lily could hear the wind whistling outside the doors as if it were searching for a way in.

“Right here is the problem.” The woman traced a finger along her palm. “A line of deception. Today you begin a web of lies that could lead to great unhappiness for you and others.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Lily felt her stomach sink. How could this woman know that she had come to Henry’s Place on a spy mission? Had she failed before she’d even begun? Oh, that would make her stepmother and her stepbrother very happy.

“Why are you doing this?”

Why? That was a question she’d asked herself every day on that island retreat. But the answer always came back to the same thing. This was her one chance to win her father’s approval.

“Look at how short the line is.” The woman glanced up for a moment and met Lily’s eyes. “You’re not very good at deception.”

Maybe not. The problem was that she hadn’t been good at anything in her life. She hadn’t been the son her father would have preferred. Two years ago, she hadn’t been able to go through with a marriage that would have merged McNeil Enterprises with Fortescue Investments.

“Ah,” the woman said. “This other line—right here—is your love line. You have a lover in your future—tall, dark, handsome.”

Right. For the first time since she’d entered the hotel, Lily felt her tension ease. Finding a lover was standard patter for fortunetellers. The woman was obviously a hoax.

“Lovers from different worlds never have it easy. But if you have the courage to give yourself to him, he will love you for who you are,” the woman said.

A fantasy, Lily thought, but she couldn’t drag her gaze away from the older woman’s. How could a stranger—someone she’d just met—know that having someone love her for herself was her deepest, most secret fantasy?

“Dame Vera, here you are. Sir Alistair and I were so worried when we couldn’t find you.”

Lily felt a little as if she were wrenching herself out of a trance, but she managed to tear her gaze away from the older woman’s and shift it to the two people who were approaching. The young woman had dark hair, nearly black, that fell in a straight line to her shoulders. The name tag on her crisply ironed white shirt read Lucy. The man she’d called Sir Alistair was tall with finely chiseled aristocratic features that went with the wine-colored smoking jacket. Lily guessed his age to be somewhere between sixty and one hundred. He looked vaguely familiar—like an old friend she hadn’t run into in years.

“You could hardly expect me to remain in my rooms. The bathroom was flooding.” Turning to Lily, she murmured in a stage whisper, “Think Titanic an hour and a half into the movie.”

“I fixed the leak temporarily,” Lucy said. “Tony will see to it first thing in the morning. And of course, we’ll have a cleaning crew in.” Pausing, she sent an apologetic smile at Lily. “Dame Vera is one of our permanent residents, and she loves to tell fortunes.”

Vera rose from the settee. “I don’t tell fortunes. I see into the future. It’s a gift that carries with it a great deal of responsibility. Disaster is near and the fate of Henry’s Place hangs in the balance.”

Dame Vera? The name had a memory tickling at the edge of her mind.

“You don’t have to worry. You’ll always have a home here,” Lucy said in a soothing tone.

“A new owner might not see it that way.”

Lily shifted her gaze away from Dame Vera’s piercing stare in time to see shock appear on Lucy’s face.

“Tony would never sell this place. He promised Uncle Henry that he would keep it. It’s our family home—and yours, too.”

“Time will tell,” Dame Vera said, slipping back into her booming soothsayer voice. “In any case, it wasn’t necessary to bother Sir Alistair.”

“She didn’t bother me, my dear,” the man said. “I came over to see if—”

“You came over to check on me.” Vera glared at him. “I don’t need a keeper.”

Sir Alistair. The name along with the British accent finally rang a little bell in the back of Lily’s mind. Sir Alistair Brooks was a British film star she’d seen in a number of late-night movies. And Dame Vera? Lily peered more closely at her soothsayer.

“The day I get so forgetful that I can’t find my way back to the rooms I’ve been leasing for more than half my life, you can book me a suite at Bellevue,” Vera continued.

“I knocked on your door because one of your old movies is on the late show,” Alistair said. “Blithe Spirit. Elvira was one of your greatest roles, and I have a nice bottle of Merlot.”

Vera snorted. “What you have is a lecherous mind. And you know I prefer champagne.”

“One of these days, you’re going to agree to let me educate your palate.”

Vera slipped a hand through his crooked arm. “I’ve been drinking champagne since—”

“I know, I know—since Sir Richard Harris drank it out of your slipper. Well, he’s gone, but I’m still here. And I don’t believe they have suites at Bellevue,” he said as he led her toward the elevator.

“If that’s your way of suggesting that I move in permanently with you, you can dream on.”

“Always, my dear,” Alistair replied.

Lily had to suppress the urge to applaud as the elevator doors slid shut on the couple.

“I hope she didn’t bother you,” Lucy said as she leaned down to pinch out the candles. “There was quite a leak in her suite, and I’m the only one on duty tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “That’s Sir Alistair Brooks, isn’t it? The British film star?” Growing up in boarding schools, she’d clocked a lot of hours watching old movies while other kids were home for the holidays.

“Yes,” Lucy answered, giving her a surprised look.

“And Dame Vera Darnel. I didn’t put it all together until I saw them walk away. They appeared together in film versions of Taming of the Shrew and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I must have seen both of those at least twenty times. And about ten years ago they did a stint together on Day by Day.” The daytime soap had been a favorite in the boarding school she’d gone to.

Lucy smiled at her. “Not many people recognize them anymore.”

“They’re guests here?”

“Permanent ones. Their suites occupy the eighth floor—right above the family suites on the seventh floor. They were my Uncle Henry’s first guests, and the fact that they signed a ten-year lease fifty years ago gave him the financial security to open the hotel. They’ve been leasing here ever since.”

“Is the leak a bad one?” Lily asked.

For the first time, worry replaced the smile in Lucy’s eyes. “I’m sure that Tony can handle it. The plumbing has been acting up a bit more than usual lately. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to welcome you when you arrived.”

“No problem,” Lily said. But it occurred to her that she would have to include the incident with Dame Vera and the problem with the plumbing in her report to her father. Feeling guilty, she rose and followed the younger girl to the reception desk.

Once she was behind the counter, Lucy beamed a smile at Lily. “Why don’t we start over? This is where I say, I’m Lucy Romano. Welcome to Henry’s Place.”

“I’m Lily McNeil and you must be Anthony Romano’s sister?”

“Cousin,” Lucy said. “But he’s really more like a brother. I’ve lived here in the hotel all my life. Usually, I work in the kitchen, but all the men in the family are out tonight. My cousin Sam got married a month ago, and they’re playing poker at his new place.”

“I spoke with Anthony on the phone.” Lily drew a credit card out of her purse. “I have an appointment to talk with him in the morning about renovating the hotel, and he made a reservation for me to stay here tonight as a guest.”

Lucy’s fingers flew over the keys of the computer. “I’m so glad you have a reservation. We’re booked solid. Thanks to the plumbing problem, there isn’t a room to be had. Now…” Lucy leaned back in her chair. “All we have to do is wait for the slowest computer in the world. I keep telling Tony that he has to get a new system. All he says is that he’s got it on the list.”

While Lucy chattered away, Lily glanced around the lobby again. In her mind, she pictured it as it had been in its prime. It was really a crime to have let it deteriorate this way. At least when her father took it over, the lobby would be returned to its original beauty.

“Uh-oh,” Lucy said with a frown.

“What?”

“I’ve pulled up your reservation, but there’s a notation on it that it’s been canceled.”

“That’s impossible,” Lily said as she pushed away a vision of a little black cloud forming over her head. First a monsoon and now a canceled reservation. This was the kind of luck the old Lily had, and she was no longer that person. “Your cousin made it for me himself.”

Lucy’s frown deepened as she studied the screen in front of her. “He’s also the one who canceled it. There’s a notation that someone at McNeil Enterprises called this afternoon and said that your plans had changed.”

Thoughts whirled through Lily’s mind. Who would have called? Had her father changed his mind about the job he’d given her? Surely, he would have called her first to let her know. “There must have been some mix-up at the office. Why don’t you just give me another room?”

Lucy met her eyes. “I don’t have another room. I can find you something at one of the other hotels in the city.”

“Surely, you must have something.” One thing Lily knew about the hotel business was that there were always rooms held back for just such an emergency. “Your cousin Anthony and I talked about how important it was that I stay here at Henry’s Place. It’s the only way that I can really get a feel for the place.”

Lucy’s brow knit. “I would have a room if it weren’t for the plumbing. Dame Vera’s wasn’t the only room affected.”

“I’ll take anything,” Lily said.

“Tell you what,” Lucy said. “I do have a suite on the roof. My Uncle Henry lived there while he was alive, and it’s only used by family.” She swung out from behind the counter, picked up Lily’s suitcase, and led the way to the elevator. “I’m sure that Tony would want me to put you up there. I know that he was looking forward to meeting with you.”

As she followed the young girl, Lily let out the breath she was holding. In spite of Dame Vera’s dire predictions, her past was not going to become her future.

“I’LL TAKE THREE.” Tony placed his cards face down on the table and wished fervently that he could have discarded his entire hand. The grinning look that passed between his brothers as Sam dealt him new cards added salt to the wound.

“Don’t get too smug,” he warned his brothers. “My luck is going to turn. Dame Vera read my palm just before I left this evening.”

“Did she give you a date on the turnaround?” Drew asked.

“Tonight sometime,” Tony said. At least, he hoped it would be tonight.

Drew and Sam exchanged another look.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about yet,” Sam said. “You haven’t won a hand all night.”

Though he wouldn’t have said that he had a pessimistic nature, Tony viewed his current cards as symbolic of his luck in general lately. The hotel, his family’s home, was threatening to fall down on his head. Literally. So far, he’d managed to keep the severity of the situation from his brothers. They didn’t need the grief. They certainly didn’t need to know that two big hotel conglomerates, McNeil Enterprises and Fortescue Investments were pressuring him to sell out. Not that he ever would—and certainly not to McNeil Enterprises. His father and J. R. McNeil had a history. That was all Tony knew, but it was bad enough for his dad to warn him never to trust anyone from the company.

Still, Tony would have liked to discuss the hotel’s problems with someone. But Sam was a newlywed, and Drew had been working some tough undercover assignments at the precinct lately. The one person he might have confided in, his cousin Nick, was adjusting to fatherhood in Boston. He didn’t need anything raining on his parade, either. Besides, running the hotel was Tony’s job—the one his father had left him.

“I only need one,” Drew said as he tossed his card on the table.

“And I’m good,” Sam said.

That figured, Tony thought. Truth told, Sam’s luck was on a roll. He was not only winning at poker tonight, but ever since he’d met and married A.J., his whole life had been on an upswing. The security company he worked for had made him a VP, and A.J. was expecting a baby in early summer.

“I’m in for twenty,” Drew said, pushing chips into the center of the table.

“Big talk.” Sam set a neat stack next to Drew’s. “I’ll see that and raise you thirty.”

Drew added chips and the two men looked expectantly at Tony.

“You can always fold now,” Sam said. “That way you can hold on to that pitiful pile of chips in front of you.”

Tony turned to Drew. “That sounds like a bluff to me. I’ll bet he’s got squat.”

“How much?” Drew asked.

“Ten bucks,” Tony said.

Drew grinned. “You’re on.”

Sam shook his head sadly. “This is like taking money from a baby. You guys are no challenge at all.”

Tony’s smile spread slowly. “Those three cards you just dealt me could make me a full house.”

Drew snorted. “Not with the string of luck you’ve been having.”

“I told you. It’s about to change,” Tony said as he placed his hand over the cards and rubbed them gently against the table. They wouldn’t give him a full house since he had an eight and nine in his hand. But they had to give him something. If there was one thing he believed in it was that a person’s luck could change as quickly as the weather.

And Dame Vera’s prediction had only reinforced his own personal feeling that his was certainly due for a change. The feeling had started a week ago on the day that Lily McNeil had contacted him to offer her consulting services.

She’d been the third person to contact him from McNeil Enterprises. First there’d been the invitation to lunch with J.R. Then there’d been the personal visit from the well-dressed and well-manicured Jerry Langford-McNeil. Not only had Lily been number three—Tony’s lucky number—but he sensed something about her that was…different. Her father and stepbrother were smooth-talking sharks. His impression of Lily was that she was more of a goldfish. He gave the three cards on the table a rub.

Of course, he hadn’t believed one word of the line of baloney she’d fed him over the phone. She claimed she was starting a new department for her company, and she wanted to help him get an affordable loan to make the improvements that he’d always wanted to make. Plus, she would offer him a free analysis and a plan to increase profits so that he could pay off the loan in record time.

Yeah, right. And then she’d probably have a bridge she’d want to sell him, too. No, it wasn’t her too-good-to-be-true offer that had intrigued him. Her voice had caught his attention. Throaty and sexy, it had contrasted sharply with her brisk and businesslike presentation of her offer. And for some reason, it had made him think of hot, sweaty, all-night sex—the kind he’d fantasized about as an adolescent.

“Are you going to pick up those cards or not?” Sam asked.

“In a second.” Tony continued to rub them gently against the table. He’d been looking forward to meeting Lily McNeil. Contrasts had always intrigued him. And when she’d laughed—

Hell, he’d really wanted to meet her—and not just to discuss business. He wanted to make her laugh again. And he wanted to watch her eyes light up when she did. He’d lost track of how long it had been since a woman had aroused his interest the way Lily McNeil had during their one phone conversation.

Then today, her office had called to cancel. She’d changed her mind about helping him, and she hadn’t even had the courtesy to call in person. Tony drew the cards closer to him. “I’m definitely due for a change of luck.”

“You could certainly use some at the hotel,” Drew said. “Lucy was hauling buckets up to the eighth floor when I stopped in for a quick shower. The latest leak started there and flooded Dame Vera’s apartment. When are you going to break down and get the plumbing replaced?”

“It’s on the list,” Tony said as he drew the first card toward him. Of course, the list was huge—a new computer system for reservations, a new stove in the kitchen, new carpeting for the lobby. But a leak on the top floor would have to be the priority. If it was allowed to continue, all the guestrooms below would be in danger. He managed a quick look at his watch. Eleven-thirty. Another half an hour and he’d make an excuse to leave.

“Now you’ve done it,” Sam said to Drew. “He’s going to make some excuse to leave now so he can check on that leak.”

“Not until I win this hand, and the ten bucks that Drew will owe me when you turn over the squat you’re holding.” Tony pushed chips into the center of the table.

“You haven’t even looked at your cards,” Sam pointed out.

“Don’t have to. Dame Vera told me my luck is about to change.” He picked up the first card and bit back a grin. The queen of hearts was a good start. An omen, perhaps. Then he picked up the last two cards and filled in his straight. Leaning back in his chair, he kept his face blank and let his brothers up the bet.

2

LILY HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING quite like the penthouse suite before. It had been built on one half of the roof of the hotel, and it spread out on two levels, a lower one that served as a roomy sitting area and an upper level that contained a kitchen and dining space. The most spectacular part was the glass wall that framed a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. Even in the rain, the city was mesmerizing. In her mind, she pictured tables lined up against the glass, snowy white tablecloths, the gleam of silver.

“Perfect.” There was no other word for it. Turning to Lucy, she said, “Why isn’t this space being used? Why isn’t it booked all the time?”

“We’ve never offered it to guests,” Lucy explained as she stepped down into the sitting area. “My Uncle Henry built this place for Isabelle Sheridan, the woman he loved. They were a classic case of star-crossed lovers. She ran a very important investment company in Boston, and her family was socially prominent. They would have looked down on my uncle—to put it mildly. And running this hotel was his life. He could never have given it up and moved to Boston. She couldn’t turn her back on her family and her company and move here.”

“They never married?”

Lucy shook her head. “They used this place whenever they could for twenty years. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Yes.” Lily let her gaze move around the suite again. What would it be like to have someone love you enough to build a space like this? She noted the comfortable-looking sofas, the antiques, and the framed photos on tables and along a mantel. Curious, she joined Lucy on the lower level and picked up a large framed photo. Four handsome men, their arms linked around each others’ shoulders, stared back at her.

You have a lover in your future—tall, dark…Even as Dame Vera’s words slipped into her mind, Lily’s gaze was drawn to the tallest of the four men, and she had the strangest sensation of…what? Surely not recognition. She’d never met any of the men in the picture. Still, there was something about the tall one…not merely his looks, she thought. All four of them would draw a woman’s eyes. And it couldn’t be merely the smile—because they were all grinning at her.

No. He was not the lover Dame Vera had been talking about. It was ridiculous to believe that the retired actress had any kind of power for seeing into the future. Besides, Lily McNeil wasn’t in the market for a lover. She’d never had a talent for attracting men that way, and she didn’t need any more failures right now. She had to focus on the job she’d come to do.

But she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from the man. His smile made her feel that they were sharing some private joke. And she thought of her phone conversations with Anthony Romano. She’d felt a similar sense of connection then.

“Those are the Romano men,” Lucy said. “Grace and I weren’t allowed in that picture. That was the day that they won the basketball tournament with the Murphys, and the testosterone was running high. Whenever that happens, they get just a little chauvinistic.” She swept a hand out. “And they don’t think of this place as romantic at all. Tony and Nick think that Uncle Henry was a fool to settle for half a loaf. None of them liked Isabelle Sheridan. They thought she was a snob. But my sister Grace and I think it’s great that she and my Uncle Henry found some way to be together. When I first saw the movie Titanic, I thought of my uncle—falling in love with someone out of his social class. Soooo romantic.”

And potentially heartbreaking, Lily thought. It took a great deal of courage to reach out and grab that kind of love. A tiny shiver ran up her spine as she realized that she’d nearly echoed Dame Vera’s words again. Even as she tried to shake off the thought, she realized that she was still staring at the tall man in the photo. She had to focus.

Setting the picture down, she forced herself to glance around the room again. It appeared that nothing had been changed since the two lovers had occupied it. “Does your family use this place often?”

“No,” Lucy said and then she grinned. “Not until a year ago when my brother got married. Now he and his wife stay here when they visit from Boston. And Sam brought his wife, A.J., here one night—before they were married—and they got engaged the next day. My sister Grace thinks the place has the power to make true love happen.”

“I was thinking it has the power to make the hotel a lot of money. With that view, this place could be turned into a restaurant that offers intimate fireside dining during the winter and al fresco dining during the summer months. It’s a sin to let it go to waste like this.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling Tony,” Lucy said. “I even designed a menu.”

When Lily glanced at her curiously, she hurried on. “The minute I graduate from college, I’m going to a culinary school. Tony lets me create specials for the restaurant, and he’s incorporated several of them into the regular menu. But the family wants me to get a degree like Grace and my brother Nick did.” She wrinkled her nose. “That way I’ll have something to fall back on if being a chef doesn’t work out. But I don’t see the point. I’ve known what I wanted to be since I was ten.”

“That’s when I decided what I wanted to be too,” Lily said.

“Really?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t let herself think of that day for a very long time.

“Did your family encourage you?” Lucy asked.

“No.” It still hurt to recall what had happened when she’d worked up the nerve to march into her father’s office to tell him. It had been one of the few times in the years after her mother’s death when he’d worked at home. Her nanny had orders to keep her out in the garden, but she’d slipped away because she’d wanted so much to spend time with him. When she’d burst through the door of his office, he’d been deep in conversation with two clients. The moment he’d looked at her, she’d become all too aware of her mussed clothes and dirty knees, and she’d been swamped by the feelings of inadequacy that she always felt in her father’s presence. Still, she’d managed to blurt out what she’d come to say. One day she wanted to be a partner in McNeil Enterprises. To this day, she wasn’t sure what her father would have said to her if one of the other men in the room hadn’t begun to chuckle. Then her father had joined him. Even now, fifteen years later, she could recall the hot flood of embarrassment and her father’s words later when the clients had left and he’d lectured her. “You’ll never be a success in business. You’re far too impulsive—just like your mother was.”

“When did your family start to take you seriously?” Lucy asked.

Lily dragged her thoughts back to the present and straightened her shoulders. “I’m still working on them.”

When her father had reluctantly agreed to let her handle the “problem” at Henry’s Place, the expressions on the faces of her family had been less than congratulatory. Shock and anger had flashed into her stepmother, Pamela’s, eyes. And the usual mocking derision in Jerry’s had been replaced by cool speculation.

At least no one had laughed. Once you’d been pegged as a failure, it was hard to change that image. But she was going to give it her best shot. Turning to Lucy, she said, “I’d like to see your menu in the morning.”

“Really?”

Lily smiled. “Really.”

Lucy gave her a quick, hard hug. “I’m so glad you’ve come to help us out. If anyone can convince Tony to turn this place into a restaurant, you can.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lily found herself promising.

A soft buzz sounded, and Lucy glanced at the pager she pulled from her belt. “I have to get back to the desk. There are fresh sheets on the bed—and I keep the fridge and pantry stocked for Nick and his wife.” She began to back her way towards the door. “If there’s anything you need, just phone down to the desk.”

Lily managed to keep the smile on her face until Lucy was gone. Then she sank down onto the nearest chair. She felt like a slug. Lucy was looking on her as a savior, and she was a traitor. It had been a mistake to get the girl’s hopes up. She should never have asked for the menu. It wouldn’t do to get personally involved with any of the Romanos. If she didn’t remember that, she was going to fail at what she’d come to do.

Closing her eyes, she pictured herself back on that white sandy beach in Tahiti and drew in a deep breath. All she had to do was keep the right perspective. She was not here to take Henry’s Place away from the Romanos but to prove to her father and her stepbrother and stepmother that she was capable of taking her place in the company. If she didn’t remember that, she was going to backslide into being the family misfit again.

With a sigh, Lily opened her eyes and moved toward the open door on the second level. She was tired. What she needed was a good night’s sleep. Then her perspective would come back to her. Everything would be as clear as it had been on that beach in Tahiti. But the moment she stepped into the bedroom, her eyes widened. This time, it wasn’t the view of the Manhattan skyline that drew her gaze. It was the huge bed, raised on a platform, that nearly filled the room. As she moved toward it, she was vaguely aware of a fireplace to her left, but she didn’t take her eyes off the iron-frame bed.

It was definitely the kind to take a lover in. The thought had slipped into her mind the moment she’d run her hand over the smooth, satin coverlet. This time she couldn’t blame Dame Vera entirely for the direction her thoughts had taken. The older woman might have planted the seed, but Lily had to admit that the idea of a lover had taken root in fertile ground.

It had been a long time since she’d had a man in her bed. For the past two years—ever since she’d broken her engagement with Giles Fortescue—she’d devoted herself entirely to making herself over—getting her MBA and apprenticing herself to a small but exclusive hotel chain in Europe. There hadn’t been time for a man. And before that, there’d been Giles. She hadn’t thought of him, hadn’t wanted to think of him, in a very long time.

She could still picture him in her mind—the lean, tanned face, the blond, Viking good looks. He’d been thirty-three—ten years her senior. She’d been fresh out of college, twenty-five pounds heavier, and not used to the social whirl her stepmother had swept her into. Giles had taken her under his wing the moment she’d been introduced to him, and she’d fallen for him. He’d been so kind and attentive that she’d grown to believe that he’d fallen for her, too.

Suddenly she realized that it didn’t hurt to think about Giles anymore. Slowly, she grinned. How ironic that the sight of a bed made for lovers would somehow set her free from the man her family had handpicked for her. Unfortunately, he’d also been a man who’d found her so fundamentally unattractive that for three months, he’d never attempted to do anything more than kiss her good night. When he had made love to her, the experience hadn’t exactly rocked her world. Nor had it rocked his.

Afterward, he’d told her not to worry about it. He didn’t really think of her in that way. Oh, he’d wanted to marry her because if he married J. R. McNeil’s only daughter, then the merger between Fortescue International and McNeil Enterprises would rest on a foundation that would appease the boards of both companies.

It was then that she realized that her father and her stepmother had arranged the whole “courtship.” By marching down the aisle, she and Giles would perform their duty to the new company. Then they could each go their separate ways. He, of course, would find other women to satisfy his needs. Meanwhile she would run his home and entertain for him while he worked to take his place at the helm of Fortescue-McNeil Inc. Of course, eventually, they would have to produce an heir.

Shuddering at the thought, Lily climbed up and settled herself on the foot of the bed. For the first time in two years, she was able to think of Giles and not feel that horrible wave of inadequacy that had swamped her for so long. Perhaps, the success seminar in Tahiti really was working. Or maybe, it was the bed—a bed where two star-crossed lovers had found happiness together for twenty years. A bed that represented real love, real passion.

Whatever it was, she felt relieved—no, she felt quite happy that Giles had never become her husband. She certainly couldn’t imagine rolling around on this bed with the very proper and very staid Giles Fortescue. The image flashed into her mind then—bright and vivid—she was lying on the bed, her body entwined with the tall man she’d just seen in that photograph.

No. She frowned. That was not going to happen. She’d come here to do a job. And just because she’d finally freed herself of the black cloud that had been Giles Fortescue, that didn’t mean that she wanted to jump into bed with someone else—especially one of the Romanos. That would lead to disaster.

She slid from the bed and walked quickly back into the main room to pick up her bag. She was going to stick strictly to business. And the first step was to take a shower, go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.

Her past was not going to equal her future. She was going to get what she wanted.

TONY STARED at the chunk of plaster that had loosened itself from around the light fixture and fallen smack onto the middle of his bed. Look on the bright side. That was his father’s credo, and Tony had adopted it as his own.

He lifted the chunk off the mattress and tested its weight before he tossed it into the air and caught it. Well, the bright side was that he’d been playing poker at Sam’s when the pipes had given out in Dame Vera’s suite. Otherwise, about ten pounds of damp plaster would have landed right on his…No, he really didn’t want to dwell on where the chunk might have landed. But he figured that the straight he’d been dealt at Sam’s had not only won him fifty bucks, it had also saved his family jewels.

Dame Vera had been right. His luck was definitely on the upswing. And it wasn’t just the card game that had convinced him. He’d had a close encounter with a crazy driver on the way home from Sam’s. The dark blue vehicle had come out of nowhere. He’d caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and raced for the curb just in time. The driver hadn’t stopped, and Tony hadn’t gotten a partial plate number to give to Drew, who was a cop.

Just then, the overhead light dimmed and another chunk plummeted to the mattress.

Tony sighed. Now, if his personal luck would just carry over to the problems at the hotel. Zach Murphy, who’d been patching the plumbing in the building for years, had predicted this particular scenario with the annoying regularity of a Greek chorus.

“Ton, mark my words. If you don’t replace the pipes in that building, the whole eighth floor is going to fall on your head.”

The damn thing about Greek choruses was that they were always right.

Tony surveyed his room, the one he’d occupied since he was ten, and wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. He’d made a promise to his father eight years ago to keep the hotel running. It was the only home he and his family had ever known. His brother Drew, his cousins Grace and Lucy, his Aunt Gina—they all still lived here. And over the years, the profits from the hotel had provided a college education for each member of the family. Now, he had to figure out a way to keep the roof from falling on their heads.

It wasn’t in his nature to be a pessimist, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to himself either. Henry’s Place was in trouble. Though it was still operating in the black, he couldn’t afford to close off any of the rooms because of plumbing problems. According to Lucy, the latest flood had moved from Dame Vera’s suite down through the family’s floor and on to four rooms on the sixth floor. They were all going to have to be repaired and repainted, and he was going to have to come up with the money for Zach Murphy to replace the pipes.

Lily McNeil had promised to help him with all of that. He’d planned to pick her brain while she tried to lead him down the garden path. Why had she canceled at the last minute? He didn’t think for a minute that McNeil Enterprises had lost interest in Henry’s Place.

First thing in the morning, he was going to call Ms. McNeil’s office and find out why she’d canceled their meeting, and then—well, he’d just have to turn on the Romano charm.

Suddenly, a yawn overtook him, and Tony realized that he was deep down bone tired. Whatever his plans for the morning, what he needed right now was a dry bed to sleep in, and as much as he hated it, that meant going to the roof. He was stepping into the hallway when another hunk of plaster hit the bed. Wincing slightly, he closed the door firmly behind him and strode down the hall to the private elevator. The thing to remember was that his luck had changed. He punched the button for the penthouse apartment.

His first surprise came when the doors slid open and he saw that the room was ablaze with lights. Striding forward, he flipped lights off as he went. They’d even left the gas fireplace on. He’d have to speak with Lucy and Grace. They were the only ones in the family who came up here on a regular basis, but it wasn’t like them to be so careless. He was heading for the table lamp next to the sofa when he saw her stretched out on the cushions, her hand tucked beneath one cheek.

There was a moment, one stunning moment, when he felt his mind empty. He could have sworn that time stood still—or was it merely his heart that had stopped? One thought filled his mind. It’s you.

Then because the idea was so unprecedented, so ridiculous, he took a deep, steadying breath and moved closer. He was tired, the ceiling was probably still falling on his bed, and there was a stranger sleeping on the penthouse sofa. He studied her for a moment. Not sleeping beauty—he discarded the thought as soon as it slipped into his mind. Perhaps, it was the fact that one of her hands was curled into a tight fist. But something made him quite sure that this was no sleeping princess waiting for her prince to come. The reddish-gold curls fanned out on the pillow made him think of Goldilocks, a tough little housebreaker. He was nearly able to summon up a smile. Nearly, but not quite—maybe when his heart beat returned to normal. He took in the pale, almost translucent skin, the delicate features and the stubborn chin. Then he glanced at the curled fist again.

A fighter, he thought, and this time he did smile. She was wearing a plain tank top and worn gray sweatpants that looked as if she did more than sleep in them. The toned muscles in her arms added to the impression. Delicate and tough, he thought, intrigued by the contrast. And then he let his eyes linger on her legs. They were long, slender, and…

The desire that moved through him like a sharp, hot blade had him breathing a little sigh of relief. That was a response he could understand. And it was a lot more comfortable than the one he’d had when he’d first looked at her.

He wasn’t going to think about that stab of recognition he’d felt because it was absurd. He’d never met this woman before. He didn’t have to wonder how she’d gotten into the penthouse. Lucy had obviously let her in. She was probably some refugee from the flooding on the sixth floor.

Dragging his eyes from her, he swept his gaze around the area. A neat gray suit was draped over the chair near the fire—and he caught a glimpse of lace and satin spread nearby on a stool. She’d had no trouble making herself at home. Then bending down, he studied what she’d spread out on the table. There was a small notebook with a silver pen lying next to it and a series of sketches. He skimmed the neatly printed list on the open page of the notebook. Repair the plumbing, renovate the lobby, turn the penthouse into a five-star restaurant—Henry’s.

Tony frowned as he picked up and examined each one of the sketches she’d drawn. If he was reading them correctly, they were of different floor plans for expanding the penthouse suite into a restaurant. And they were good. He glanced at her again. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was writing about his hotel.

Who in the hell was she?

He swept his gaze more carefully over the area again, noting the small suitcase and the leather briefcase. A niggling suspicion formed in his mind even as he reached to examine the tag. One glance confirmed it—this was Lily McNeil.

Sitting back on his heels, he studied her again as questions lined themselves up in his mind like so many toy soldiers. Why was she here? Or perhaps more specifically, why had she canceled her reservation and then changed her mind? Or had she planned to sneak into his hotel incognito and gather information without his knowledge?

He watched the play of the firelight over her features. So this was the owner of that voice. She wasn’t exactly the way he had imagined her. Nor did she seem to fit the voice. Looking at her didn’t make him think of hot, sweaty all-night sex. Instead, she made him think of the slow, thorough, take-your-time-and-savor kind.

His gaze shifted to her mouth, and he imagined her taste—not sweet, but tart at first. The sweetness would lie beneath. He wanted to explore that mouth, linger until he’d coaxed out all the flavors. He reached out to touch one of her curls. He could see the different colors, cool gold with a hint of fire here and there. He wanted to touch her—to run his hands over that skin. Even as the images formed in his mind, desire tightened in his center as if his body already knew what it would be like to feel her softness arching against him.

Muffling a sigh, Tony reined his wandering thoughts in and dropped the curl he was still rubbing between his fingers. Then because he couldn’t help himself, he ran his finger lightly down her cheek to her chin before he dropped it to his side. She wasn’t a sleeping beauty, he reminded himself—and he wasn’t the prince meant to wake her up. This was Goldilocks, and the fictional girl who’d caused quite a bit of havoc in the bears’ lives. It was his job to see that Ms. Lily McNeil didn’t do that to the Romanos. The family was his responsibility, and he had to put them first.

She stirred, and her lips parted. Tony stilled. Once again he felt his mind empty, and then all he knew was an almost overpowering desire to fit his mouth to hers and throw caution to the winds. If she struggled, that would be the end of it. If she responded…He ruthlessly clamped down the images that poured into his mind. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her. And it wouldn’t be smart. He forced himself to rise and then switched off the lamp next to the couch.

He hadn’t grown up in the hotel business without developing a canny instinct about people—and Lily McNeil was trouble, both professionally and personally. Getting involved with her would definitely not be smart. He let his gaze rest on her again. But it sure as hell would be fun. And when was the last time he’d let himself think of doing something just for the fun of it? Not since his father’s death when he’d had to shoulder the responsibility of the hotel. Eons ago, it seemed.

Giving his head a quick shake, Tony made himself walk to the upper level and through the bedroom door. What he needed was a good night’s sleep. Whoever the hell Lily McNeil was, he was going to need all of his wits about him. And he’d better keep his libido under control.

Just then, lightning flashed. He saw it split the sky, and the thunder clapped so loud, so close, that the windows rattled. A warning, he thought. A second later, the lights flickered and went out.

Definitely a warning, he thought as he made his way into the bedroom.

LILY FOUGHT HER WAY UP from a dream. She’d been with her lover. He’d touched her hair and her cheek. His fingers had been callused, arousing. She’d been so sure he was about to kiss her. In that moment when he’d seemed to hesitate, she’d wanted so badly to open her eyes, to reach out and cover his hand with hers, to draw him closer. But she’d been trapped in that paralysis between sleeping and waking. Don’t go. She’d tried to say the words, but no sound had come out.

And then he’d moved away.

The sharp sting of rejection brought her fully to the surface, and the moment she opened her eyes, she realized the suite was pitch black. A glance at the windows told her that nearby buildings were dark, too. A power failure. Rain pelted the glass in an unrelenting rhythm. In the distance, a flash of lightning forked through the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. The noise from the storm—that’s what had pulled her out of her dream, not her lover walking away. The dull pain of failure still lingered from the dream. Ridiculous, she thought as she sat up. She was not going to let her fear of failure creep into her dreams, too.

After pushing herself up off the couch, she used the furniture to guide her as she made her way to the upper level. Failure was a part of her past, and she was going to make sure it did not seep into her future. She was going to go back to sleep in that bed made for lovers. Then she was going to conjure up her dream lover and make sure he didn’t pull away.

Running her hand along the wall, she made it to the door she was sure opened into the bedroom. The darker shadow three feet in front of her had to be the bed. Once she reached it, she felt her way to the side near the windows where she recalled seeing the step-stool. There. Once her foot connected with it, she climbed up on the mattress and slipped beneath the covers.

A yawn overtook her as her head settled on the pillow. The bed was so warm, so welcoming, as if a lover was already there, waiting for her. Her lips curved in a smile. Dame Vera had promised her one, after all. So what if it was only one conjured by her mind? A dream lover didn’t interfere with your life. Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind of everything, then concentrated on calling up a picture of her dream lover. Visualization. That was the key. She hadn’t seen him too clearly in the dream, so he could be anything she wanted him to be.

Slowly, she brought his features into focus. A strong nose, Roman, she decided. And the cheekbones of a warrior. His mouth was masculine, but the whole effect would be softened by dimples that appeared only when he smiled. And then there were his eyes. They were the color of dark, forbidden chocolate. Irresistible. The warmth of the bed began to seep through her. As she felt herself begin to sink into sleep, her dream lover’s features became even clearer in her mind. Her last thought before sleep overtook her was that she’d seen her dream lover somewhere before.

3

TONY DRIFTED somewhere in the twilight zone between waking and sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was surface from the dream he was having. His Goldilocks was sleeping in his bed. And it felt just right.

She was nestled against him like a spoon, her back to his front. Each time he inhaled, her scent filled him. He would have recognized it anywhere. Spring flowers, the kind his mother had taken such care to grow in terra cotta pots on the roof.

With lazy pleasure, he slipped one hand beneath her to keep her near and ran the other down her from her shoulder to her thigh. The contrast of warm silky skin and more roughly textured cotton had a warm flame of desire moving through him. She shifted, pressing more closely against him, and the flame eased into a slow, searing burn.

He slipped his hand beneath thin cotton. She made a throaty sound of pleasure when he cupped her breast, another when he scraped his teeth against the nape of her neck. He’d dreamed before of touching her like this, but the sensations seemed sharper now. Her skin was soft as water, her waist so narrow. Hearing the quick hitch of her breath, he let his hand take the long, slow journey again. He felt his own need grow as he absorbed each separate layer of her response—the pounding of her heart, the warming of her skin when he pressed his palm against it, the tremor that moved through her when he finally slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her sweats. Then he used his mouth on the back of her neck again as he slipped a finger into her heat.

THE ORGASM MOVED THROUGH HER in one, hot, consuming wave, and Lily thought she just might die from the pleasure. Then before she could catch even one breath or gather up the strength to move, those strong, clever fingers began to move deep inside of her again. This time each sensation was sharper. She inhaled his scent—something darkly male. And the heat of his body—it burned hers like a brand at each and every contact point.

She’d never dreamed anything this clearly before. His teeth bit the back of her neck as his hand tightened on her breast. She could hear her heart beat, feel each pump of her blood as it accelerated the way a locomotive did when it hurled itself down a hill. His fingers moved relentlessly, and though she hadn’t thought it possible, a huge pressure was beginning to build inside of her again.

Then he withdrew his hand.

“No.” The word came out as a ragged moan and she twisted and rolled, desperate until she lay across him. Visualize. This was a dream, she reminded herself. A wonderful one. If she just pictured everything clearly enough, it wouldn’t fade. Her dream lover couldn’t leave.

She conjured up his face in her head again—the strong features, one by one. It was working. She could feel his body beneath her, all hard planes and angles, pressing into hers.

“I want you,” she said.

“Touch me.”

Lily wasn’t sure who said the words. All she knew was that she had an overwhelming urge to explore him with her hands, to memorize him the way he’d memorized her. With her eyes still closed, she traced her fingers over his brows, down the sides of his face to the hard line of his jaw. Yes, he was just as she’d pictured him. As she brushed just the tips of her fingers over smooth, firm lips, the image in her mind wavered a little. Slowly, she lowered her mouth to his. The urge to taste him was so huge, so consuming. His lips were parted, just slightly, and his flavor seeped into her—dark and tempting. His mouth was so warm, so gentle. When her tongue moved against his, the taste grew richer. Lily felt herself melting, skin, muscle, bones.

She was on the border between sleep and wakefulness, but as his hands began to move on her again, she couldn’t summon up the strength to open her eyes. Lean and firm, his hands weren’t gentle this time. They were strong and hard, the fingers callused. Wherever they pressed, flames licked along her skin. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arched against him, urging him on as she poured herself into a kiss.

TONY FELT his reason slipping away. She was so responsive, so giving. So his.

His hands had taken on a will of their own, racing over her, taking, touching, claiming. His mouth too seemed out of his control. He had to devour her. Even as her taste filled him, he couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Some part of his mind was telling him that this couldn’t be a dream, the sensations were too sharp, too real, but he had no will to listen.

He’d wanted a woman before—but not with this intensity. He’d needed a woman before, but not with this desperation. Desire hammered at him with sharp, piercing blows as he dragged off her clothes.

More. He had to have more. In some part of his mind, he knew that his hands weren’t gentle as they raced over her. Those soft curves beckoned to him, but he had no patience to linger. Even though her scent enveloped him, even though her taste filled him, he couldn’t get enough. He had to have her. His blood was pounding in his head as he rolled her beneath him and thrust himself into her. But as he did, she wrapped herself around him and matched her movements to his so that the two of them were perfectly in synch, driving each other higher and higher. Then as pleasure shattered through him, they merged as one.

WHEN SANITY RETURNED, she was lying beneath him. He was sure he was crushing her, but he couldn’t move except to tremble. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. And he couldn’t think. A cold sliver of fear moved through him. The last thing he clearly remembered was asking her to touch him. When she had, his control had begun to stretch thin like a rubber band—until it had finally snapped.

The one thing he was pretty sure of was that what had just happened was too real to have been merely a dream. Slowly, he raised his head, opened his eyes, and confirmed his worst suspicion.

The woman lying beneath him was indeed his Goldilocks, and she was real. Had he hurt her? The thought gave him the strength to lever his weight off of her. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes opened, and he found himself looking into a deep sea of green. As he watched, they darkened and focused, then shut.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

She opened her eyes, raised a hand to his cheek and frowned. “You’re real, aren’t you?”

The husky sound of her voice had him hardening all over again. Later, he would find that amazing. Right now, the effect was dimmed by the fact that she was clearly not pleased.

He tried a smile. The Romano dimples had gotten him over rough ground before. “Last time I checked, I was.”

She shut her eyes. “I thought—I thought I was dreaming.” Then her eyes snapped open again and her gaze narrowed. “Just what are you doing in my bed?”

The haughty accusing tone had him biting back a grin. It wasn’t everyone who could pull it off, especially when they were naked and still lying partly under you. He planted a quick kiss on her nose. “My bed,” he corrected. “When I came in, you were sleeping on the couch. So I claim squatter’s rights.”

“This is my room,” she said. “Lucy Romano gave it to me. Therefore, this is my bed.”

“Remind me to thank Lucy,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers. He meant to merely drop a quick kiss, but the moment his lips brushed hers, he had to have just one more taste, and then he had to have more. There was such sweetness on the surface—rich, wild honey, and when he nipped on her bottom lip, the flavor deepened. He told himself that he would have pulled back if she’d shown any sign of resistance. But she didn’t. When he finally did withdraw, he waited until she met his eyes. “This isn’t a dream.”

“No,” she said.

“I want you again.”

Her eyes remained steady on his. “I want you too. But…”

He nibbled kisses along her jawline. “But what?”

“We’re strangers. We don’t even know each other.”

He met her eyes again. “Do you want me to stop?”

She tightened her arms around him. “No.”

Even as he made a space for himself between her legs, he said, “Are you protected?”

“No. I—”

He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” But he had not taken care of it before. They’d have to talk about that later. Reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, he removed one of the foil packets that his father had kept there. Once he had sheathed himself, he pushed into her just a little.

“We’re going to take it slow and easy this time,” he said.

“Oh? We are?”

Surprise and delight filled him when he saw the light of challenge come to her eyes. He’d been right in his first assessment of her. She was a fighter, all right. “Slow and easy,” he promised. “I’ll just have to persuade you.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said as she tightened her legs around him and drew him in.

When the battle was over, neither was sure who’d won.

SHE SLEPT LIKE A ROCK, Tony decided as he slipped out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back at her. She hadn’t moved since he’d awakened at the first light of dawn. Not even the running of the shower had disturbed her. She was still sleeping on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek, in much the same position that she’d been in when he’d first seen her on the couch last night.

Goldilocks looked quite at home in his bed, he thought. And just what in the hell was he going to do about that? Turning, he moved toward the kitchen. Perhaps, coffee would defog his brain. The cold shower hadn’t. Heaven knew after the night they’d spent, he should be sated with her, but he’d barely made it out of bed without waking her to make love again.

That was more than enough to give him pause. He couldn’t recall another woman who’d ever threatened his control the way she did. As he measured water and scooped coffee into the coffeemaker, he reviewed the problem.

His father’s warning to beware of J. R. McNeil no doubt included his daughter, too.

So—bottom line and in a nutshell—he’d just spent the night sleeping with the enemy.

And in spite of the fact that it probably wasn’t a very good move on his part, making love to Lily McNeil had felt very right. So right that he wanted to do it again—and soon.

On the bright side, what he knew about her so far made him believe that she had an honest streak in her that ran bone deep. During the night they’d spent together, she’d delivered on every promise that that sexy, throaty voice had made. And then some. Her lovemaking was honest, generous and incredible.

And he definitely wanted to repeat the experience.

As he reached for a mug, Tony sighed. Clearly, his judgment on the matter of Lily McNeil was not totally impartial and objective. And dammit, the contrasts that he’d noticed so far about her just plain fascinated him. He shifted his gaze to the living room where her neat, classy clothes hung on the back of a chair. She wore that during the day, then sweats and a tank top to bed. Who was she really? Was she the corporate shark or Goldilocks? Not that those two categories were mutually exclusive.

As the coffeemaker made its last gasping sputter, Tony reached for the carafe, filled a mug and took one long swallow. He welcomed the heat that burned his tongue and seared his throat. That along with the jolt of caffeine should help him to come up with a plan.

Another point on the bright side—Dame Vera had predicted that his luck was about to change. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to her reading of his palm. He’d only let her do it to humor her. But he’d been feeling the same thing for the past few days. Ever since Lily had first called him, he’d had a feeling that something was about to happen—and it would be good, for a change.

He took a second swallow of his coffee, then grabbed the carafe and refilled his mug to the brim. What had Dame Vera’s exact words been? He recalled that she’d been gazing at his hand, tracing a line that started between his thumb and forefinger and ran crookedly to his wrist. He took another sip of his coffee and concentrated hard.

“Luck is coming your way. If you have the courage to grab it, everything will change.”

Or something to that effect. He’d had a lot on his mind and he’d been late for the poker game at Sam’s when she’d waylaid him.

But right now, his gut instinct was telling him that Lily McNeil was connected to whatever bit of good fortune fate was offering him. And he’d grabbed her. Now all he had to do was hang on.

At the same time, the little voice of reason was trying to make itself heard at the back of his mind. “What if the change is a bad one? What if you end up losing Henry’s Place?”

He was still frowning when he’d finished his second mug. Then he turned to a time-tested strategy, one that had never failed him when he needed to work through a problem—cooking. He didn’t have any porridge, but he could fix his Goldilocks an omelette.

By the time he’d finished shredding cheese and dicing herbs, he had it pretty well figured out. Point one: If Lily was here to spy on Henry’s Place for her father’s company, two could play that game. The more inside information he had, the better he’d be able to handle her father when McNeil Enterprises made its next move.

Point two: On a personal level, he’d be able to find out just what it was about Lily McNeil that had his hormones regressing to his adolescent years. He cracked eggs into a bowl and began to whip them into a froth. Point three: He could pick her brain. He’d had Sam check into her background, and she’d spent the past two years working in a small but exclusive hotel chain in Europe. She could be his key to saving Henry’s Place.

His plan was to keep in very close contact with Lily McNeil. All in all, he could see no downside to the situation.

Especially when he had it on good authority that his luck had changed.

LILY CAME AWAKE slowly. She could feel herself floating up to the surface, but she didn’t open her eyes, not yet. She felt too good just where she was. Her muscles were relaxed, loose…and just a little sore? Her first thought was that she was still in Tahiti where she’d run on the sandy beach every day. She burrowed more deeply into her pillow, but in the end, it was her senses that betrayed her—the sunshine pricking at her eyelids, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and the sound of someone singing. She opened one eye. The song was familiar—an old Beatles song. The voice was decidedly male—and he was singing off key.

Lily shot straight up in bed and opened the other eye. Any hope that she was still in Tahiti vanished the moment she saw the New York City skyscrapers through the glass wall to her left. Memory came flooding back. She was in Manhattan in Henry’s Place, and she’d just spent the night in a bed made for lovers. Correction. She’d just spent the night having crazy, wild and thoroughly incredible sex with a complete stranger in a bed made for lovers.

Covering her face with her hands, she sank back against the pillows and groaned.

“I guess you’re not a morning person.”

She felt her stomach plummet as she spread her fingers and peered through them. Yep. There was her dream lover in the flesh—just as she’d conjured him up. She narrowed her eyes and spread her fingers a little wider. Only perhaps, she’d had a little assistance with her visualization. Her stomach sank even further as she recognized the man standing at the foot of the bed as the tall man in the photograph she’d picked up in the living room. He was one of the Romanos.

“Try some of this.” He smiled as he set a tray in front of her. She dropped her hands from her face and forced herself to look at the tray. The omelette was fluffy, the toast crisp and the coffee smelled heavenly. But she could smell him above it—that distinctive scent that was his alone. And it was making her melt again. “I’m sorry. I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You don’t eat breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

The genuine shock in his tone had her glancing up. “I run first thing in the morning. All that food will slow me down. I might even get a cramp.” She reached for the mug of coffee.

“Careful. It’s hot.”

She sipped cautiously, closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Then she took two more swallows before she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze again to meet his. She cleared her throat. “Maybe we ought to introduce ourselves.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Tony Romano.”

“No.” She set the coffee down so hard that it would have spilled if he hadn’t steadied the mug. “You can’t be.”

“I could show you my driver’s license.”

In her mind, Lily pictured the black cloud she thought she’d escaped from settling over her head like a permanent lid. Dame Vera’s words came back to her. Disaster lies ahead. Not that she had to worry about that anymore. The disaster had arrived in the flesh, and he was standing right beside her bed.

She was just going to have to deal with it. “That won’t be necessary. I believe you.” She cleared her throat again. “I’m Lily McNeil.”

“I know.”

She stared at him. “You know who I am? How?”

“When I walked in last night and saw you sleeping on the couch, my first thought was that you were Goldilocks. And then I saw the tag on your suitcase.”

“You snooped?”

“The tag was out in plain sight. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

He was right. She was being ridiculous. She folded her hands tightly together in front of her. What would her success guru do in a case like this? Focus and visualize. The problem was she was finding it hard to picture anyone in her mind but Tony.

“Should I apologize?” Tony asked.

Steeling herself, she met his eyes again. “No.”

“For anything, I mean. I wasn’t exactly gentle with you.”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she recalled exactly how forceful he’d been. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Do I?”

She saw surprise in his eyes. “No. But you regret what happened last night, don’t you?”

“I should, but I don’t. I—” She raised both hands and then dropped them. “I just wish we hadn’t started out that way.”

He took one of her hands and raised it to his lips. “I’ll have to work on my technique.”

“No.” She read the intent clearly in his eyes and pulled her hand away. “Your technique is fine. It’s great.”

“I could try for exquisite.”

She laughed then, and when he sat down on the bed and reached for her, she found it took a great deal of effort to raise a hand to stop him. “No. I can’t. This isn’t the way we should have started out. And it’s not the way I mean to go on.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out.

“You’re telling me this was a one-night stand and it’s over?”

“I don’t see the need to put it that way.”

“What happened to the old rule of three strikes and you’re out?”

Lily stared at him. He was sitting on the other side of the breakfast tray he’d prepared for her—bronze skin, chocolate-colored eyes, and a body that ancient artists had trapped countless time in bronze or marble. And he was trying to convince her to make love with him again. All she had to do was reach out and—it took all her strength to summon up the faces of those who didn’t believe that she could handle this job for McNeil Enterprises—her father, her stepbrother, her stepmother. “We’re not talking about baseball here.”

“True.” He picked up a fork and sliced into the omelette. “Here, try a bite of this. Maybe my cooking will change your mind.”

“No.” She noticed that the “no” was easier to say this time. The focusing was working. “I’m on a diet. And you’re not going to change my mind.”

“Why are you on a diet? You’re perfect.”

The look of complete amazement on his face had a little ribbon of warmth unwinding through her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever describing her as even close to perfect. Focus, she reminded herself.

“I just lost twenty-five pounds, and I’m not gaining it back.” She glanced at her watch. “Which reminds me, I have to run. What floor is your health club on?”

He was studying her and a small frown had appeared on his brow. “It’s on the renovation list.”

It was her turn to be shocked. “Where do you send your guests if they want to use a treadmill or work out?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t.”

“You should at least have a route mapped out for them so that they can run on the street. I’ll take care of it for you.” She lifted the tray and handed it to him. “Now, if you’ll just let me get dressed for my run…”

Tony set the tray on the nightstand. “You’re not running on the street alone. Wait until noon, and I can go with you.”

“I don’t need—”