“Would you like me to go deeper?”

“Yes.” She could almost feel the pressure of his fingers—right where tension was coiled tightest at the center of her body. She wanted—no, she needed—to be touched right there, at the farthest point.

“I’m going deeper, Sierra.”

Ryder’s voice was so low, and in response to the words every muscle in her body strained toward the climax, which built and built until the release shot through her in one long, widening wave of pleasure that went on and on.

Reality trickled back in bits and pieces. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she was still standing, thanks to the solid door at her back. She felt…weak, but…wonderful.

Then Sierra became aware of her surroundings. She was standing in the doorway of a shop in the middle of Georgetown and she’d just…

“Sierra?”

She’d just…he’d just… Some of the heat in her body flooded her cheeks. My God, she’d just had phone sex! And it was the best sex she’d ever had….

Dear Reader,

I love to write stories about strong women who find the courage to take risks. And creating the RISKING IT ALL miniseries for Harlequin Blaze has allowed me to do just that—three times.

Psychologist Sierra Gibbs, the youngest of triplet sisters, has lived all of her life on the sidelines. Up until now, romance and adventure were things she experienced only vicariously in books and films. As for great sex—well, so far she’s been researching that instead of getting any.

However, all that is about to change! Sierra is about to change. Inspired by her own curiosity and her sisters’ recent experiences, she’s determined to break out of the cocoon of academic life and embark on a sexual adventure of her own. How hard can it be? Using the same technique that has earned her two Ph.D.s, Sierra makes a list—a five-step plan to initiate a sexual adventure with a man.

But before she can even implement step one, she runs into a sexy, rugged stranger in a bar who kisses her senseless. Then she shocks herself by kissing him right back. Even more shocking, she’s tempted to toss out her list and cut straight to step five! That isn’t like her at all.

Can one kiss have the power to change a person? Sierra’s pretty sure that kind of transformation happens only in fairy tales. Still…the only way to really find out would be to kiss that stranger again…and again.

I hope you get a kick out of reading Sierra and Ryder’s story—and that you’ll want to read Natalie’s story (The Proposition—May) and Rory’s story (The Dare—June). For excerpts from these stories, contests and news of upcoming books, be sure to visit my Web site, www.carasummers.com.

Happy reading,

Cara Summers

The Favor
Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my editor Brenda Chin.

This is the seventeenth book we’ve worked on together.

You make me a better writer. Thanks for everything!

To my sister Janet. I can’t imagine my life without you.

And to sisters everywhere.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Prologue

Summer 1999

STEALING THE O’Malley necklace was going to be a challenge that would require all of the skills Harry Gibbs had honed to perfection over a long and successful career. The way Harry saw it, the risk itself was almost more important than whether or not he’d pull off the heist of what many in Ireland believed to be a national treasure.

Harry had done extensive research on both the family and Arden Castle, their ancestral home. The O’Malleys claimed they could trace their roots back to the Celts. The castle didn’t date back quite that far, but it was built like a fortress with high stone walls on three sides and a drop to the sea on the fourth. Harry planned to gain access by climbing up that cliff. He smiled at the thought.

When his horse shifted nervously beneath him, Harry lowered his binoculars and patted the animal’s neck, “Easy, Dracula.”

“That’s a nice horse.”

Startled, Harry turned to see a young woman with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen studying him through large, wire-framed glasses. She was slim, with a boyish build, and her long, straight hair was the rich shade of red that had been captured in all of the portraits Harry had found of the O’Malleys. He guessed her age at fourteen or fifteen, which meant she was probably Bridget, the youngest daughter of the current residents of the castle. And she’d sneaked up on him like a master thief. He couldn’t help but admire her for it.

“Dracula is a very nice horse,” Harry agreed with a smile. “Do you ride?”

The hand that she’d raised to pat the horse dropped without making contact. “No. I have asthma. I’m not even supposed to be out here on the hill. Too many allergens in the air.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded in understanding. “You’ve gone AWOL.”

“Yes.” She sent him the barest hint of a smile. “I do it quite a bit. You’re not supposed to be here, you know. The land is posted.”

Harry had thought that they’d get to that sooner or later. The sharpness and directness of the girl’s gaze reminded him a bit of his youngest daughter’s. Of course, Sierra was taller and her hair was Alice-in-Wonderland blond, but Sierra too had suffered from asthma, and her approach to life was as serious as this young woman’s seemed to be.

He tried his most charming smile. “I’m Harry Gibbs.”

She studied him for a moment and then moved closer to take his outstretched hand. “Bridget O’Malley.”

Harry lifted his brows. “One of the owners. I hope you aren’t going to report me to the authorities. There was a fence a ways back. Dracula and I were both irresistibly tempted.”

She met his gaze steadily. “I won’t tell. If I did, I’d have to admit I was here, wouldn’t I?” The small smile appeared again. “And if I could ride, I probably would have done the same.”

Harry tapped one finger to his riding hat. “Thank you, Bridget O’Malley. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Her smile blossomed slowly, beautifully. “One favor.”

“Name it.”

“When you take that fence this time, think of me.”

“That I will.”

HARRY WAS still thinking of Bridget O’Malley that evening. He told himself that she’d stayed in his mind because she’d reminded him so forcibly of Sierra, and his youngest daughter had been weighing on his mind lately. He raised his snifter of cognac and took a sip, staring into the flames of the fire that he’d built. The cottage outside of Dublin was one of three places he kept, but it was the one he thought Sierra would like the most.

She was the youngest of his triplet daughters and the one he worried about the most. Spread around him on the floor were his plans for the O’Malley heist. To his right were the architect’s drawings of the latest renovations to the castle. They revealed the exact location of the safe. To his left were photos and sketches of the wall he’d have to scale, and in front of him was the plan, with the steps neatly listed on blue note cards. Since he suffered from color blindness, he’d always used blue so that his plan would stand out from the other papers.

The cards made him think of Sierra too. As a child, she’d imitated his habit of jotting things down on blue cards, and as he thought of her, his heart twisted a little. Each of his daughters had inherited something from him. Natalie, the oldest of the triplets, had inherited his gift for opening safes and his talent for disguise. Rory, his middle daughter, had inherited his love of risk-taking—for better or for worse. And Sierra—well, his wife claimed she’d inherited her father’s curiosity and analytical brain, and Sierra had definitely inherited his love of making lists.

Harry took another sip of his cognac. Lately, he’d been missing his family more and more, and he’d been feeling an urgent need to talk to them. But contacting them in any way would violate the promise he’d made to his wife, Amanda.

The girls had been ten when he and Amanda had separated. She’d wanted a normal life for the girls, and he’d agreed. When they’d been born, he’d retired from his profession and tried his best to provide his family with as normal a life as possible in the suburbs of DC. But it hadn’t worked out. He’d missed the risks, the adventure, the thrill of pulling off the perfect heist.

His wife had refused to go back to that life. The girls already idolized him, and she didn’t want them following in his footsteps. Neither did he. So they’d agreed that he wouldn’t contact them in any way until their twenty-sixth birthdays.

They were twenty now, and Harry was beginning to think that he wouldn’t be able to wait six more years. That was why he’d decided to write to them. He’d already written to Natalie and Rory. His attorney would deliver the letters to them if he couldn’t be there himself.

He glanced over at the photos he’d taken of the wall he’d have to scale to gain access to the O’Malley castle. Could be he wouldn’t have six more years. One misstep while climbing that wall would end his life.

Of course, that was part of what had drawn him to the caper—the risk. Natalie and Rory would understand that, but he wasn’t sure that Sierra would. Of his three daughters, he figured she was the one who would judge him the most harshly for the decision he’d made to leave them behind. That was why he’d put off writing her letter.

Rising, he took his cognac with him to the desk where he kept his collection of photos. Earlier, he’d taken out his three favorites of Sierra. Although she’d been unaware of his presence, he’d taken them himself. His promise not to contact his daughters in any way hadn’t prevented him from secretly being there at the important events in their lives.

In the first picture, she was giving the valedictory speech at her high-school graduation. What he hadn’t captured in the photo was the fact that beneath the podium, she’d held blue note cards in her hand—just in case she forgot her speech. In spite of her academic achievements, she’d never had the kind of confidence she should.

In the second picture, he’d captured her poring over books in her college library. From the time she’d been tiny, she’d loved books, and he’d read to her often.

The third one had him frowning. He’d taken it less than a month ago, and he’d very nearly broken his promise when he’d snapped it. She was sitting on a bench in Rock Creek Park watching the never-ending flow of runners, bikers and in-line skaters along a jogging path. The longing on her face had tightened a band of pain around his heart. It was the same expression that he’d seen on Bridget O’Malley’s face that morning when she’d looked at Dracula.

If there was one piece of advice he most needed to give to Sierra it was that she had to stop hiding away in her books and studies and take the risk of really participating in life.

Pulling a piece of blue paper out of his desk, he sat down and began: Dearest Sierra, my beautiful dreamer…

1

WHY DID SHE always have to be such a coward?

As she threaded her way through the other pedestrians on a busy Georgetown street, Sierra Gibbs pondered the question that was currently number one in her mind.

Of course, when it came to questions, there were bigger, more important ones. She supposed that Hamlet’s “To be or not to be?” had been more fundamental, hitting as it did on the issue of existence. But the Danish prince had also worried about personal cowardice and he’d certainly suffered from acute paralysis when it came to taking action.

Realizing the direction her thoughts had taken, Sierra let out a disgusted sigh. Since today was the day she was going to change her life, Hamlet was a lousy role model.

On the street horns blared, pedestrians flowed around her, but Sierra didn’t let her focus waver as she continued on her way down the sidewalk. During the past month, ever since her sisters had opened their birthday letters from their father, she’d become more and more dissatisfied with her life. Not her professional life. That was humming along quite smoothly. She’d recently been appointed to a tenure-track position at Georgetown, and she’d also signed a book contract for her research on the sexual habits of single urban dwellers.

Sierra paused in front of a traffic light. The cars moved at a determined pace through the intersection. She ignored them.

It was her pathetic personal life that was the problem, and that point was driven home to her each and every time she met with her sisters and saw the contented expressions on their faces.

In the process of following their father’s advice, Natalie and Rory had both become involved in very satisfying sexual relationships with men.

Sierra’s own personal life, and indeed her sex life, hadn’t changed much since she was a child. As she had back then, she spent most of her waking hours reading books or watching movies. As an adult, in addition to that, she buried herself in her academic work. Bottom line—she researched sex instead of having any.

As a child, she’d had some excuse for letting life pass her by. She’d suffered from severe asthma, and she’d constantly battled high fevers and sinus infections. But at twenty-six, her only excuse was that she was a coward. If you remained on the sidelines, you never had to risk a thing. Or lose anyone.

Well, she was sick and tired of being Jane Eyre, the mousy little governess, content to observe life and never participate in it.

Jane, along with Hamlet, was another lousy role model. Closing her eyes, Sierra banished all pImages** of each of them from her mind. She needed to be imagining herself as someone much more assertive, someone like…like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The TV series had become one of her favorites. Now there was a woman to be reckoned with. Sierra pictured the feisty blonde with her kickass attitude. And Buffy probably always had great sex, too.

And Buffy’s nerve would come in handy, too, if Sierra was going to ride over the objections her sisters were sure to make when they heard her plan. Even though she was only fifteen minutes younger than Natalie and a mere seven and a half minutes younger than Rory, her family had always treated her as the baby. And despite that she was an adult now, her sisters still felt it was their duty to protect her.

Opening her eyes, Sierra let out another disgusted sigh when she saw that the little white man on the pedestrian traffic signal had changed to a blinking red hand. Not even Hamlet would have hesitated at crossing a street. And Buffy would have been at the Blue Pepper by now. She hurriedly stepped off the curb, but halfway across the street, paused and drew a blue note card from her canvas bag. Then she reread the heading. Five steps for initiating a sexual relationship with a man. For the first step in becoming a full-fledged participant in life, she’d decided that she wanted to learn more about her own sexual side. Her curiosity about that no doubt had grown out of her current research into the sexual practices of modern single urban dwellers.

Her decision to kick off her plan with a sexual adventure would not only satisfy her curiosity, but it was also very practical. After all, her research so far had provided her with some expertise—even if it was totally vicarious.

She’d collected hundreds of case studies, and completed nearly as many interviews. Plus, she had a five-step plan. If there was one thing that she could do in her professional life it was to stick to a plan once she’d mapped it out.

The sharp blast of a horn made her jump, and a quick glance around informed her that five cars were waiting for her to get out of the pedestrian walkway.

“Lady, could you hurry it up?”

Rush hour in Georgetown was not the best time to dawdle. Stuffing the blue card back into her bag, Sierra waved apologetically to the man in the silver convertible. The black sedan next to it revved its motor. She dashed to the curb.

Once she was safely on the sidewalk, she dug in her canvas bag for her inhaler. After using it, she dropped it back in her bag, then drew in a deep breath and continued up the street.

The Blue Pepper was only a block away, and her sisters had agreed on very short notice to meet her for the grand opening of Harry’s letter to her. She rubbed the heel of her hand against the little ache that always settled around her heart when she thought of her father.

She and her sisters had lost Harry Gibbs twice—once when they’d been ten and Harry had decided to follow the call to adventure and resume his career as a master jewel thief. That was when they’d made a pact to call him Harry. Then when they were twenty, he’d died in a climbing accident, and they’d lost him permanently.

Sierra had always blamed herself for the fact that Harry had left them behind. If she hadn’t been so prone to illness, her mother surely wouldn’t have been too worried about her youngest to go with him. Amanda Gibbs had loved her husband deeply, and she’d passed away within months of Harry’s death.

Then suddenly, on the day that they’d turned twenty-six, the letters from Harry had arrived. Of course, Natalie had read hers the night she’d received it. If there was a gene for courage, Natalie had inherited it. Her job on a special task force with the DC Police Department testified to that.

Rory who always met life head-on had only needed an extra two weeks to open hers. Then she’d been off and running, putting their father’s advice right into practice. If there was a daredevil gene, Rory had gotten it in spades.

The way Sierra figured it, she’d inherited nothing from her father. The one thing Harry Gibbs had never been was a coward, and she’d postponed reading his letter for almost a month because she was a chicken. She was sure that his advice to her would be different. Harry had always treated her differently than he’d treated her sisters.

Sierra stopped short when she realized that she’d walked half a block past the Blue Pepper. Nerves bubbled in her stomach. After reaching for her inhaler, she used it again and drew in several steadying breaths before she turned and walked back to the restaurant. Then she pulled out her blue card once more and began to pace. Five steps—she could do this. When she finally glanced up and caught her reflection in the glass door, her confidence wavered. The woman looking back at her had her hair twisted into a bun and wore a loose-fitting, drab-colored jacket and skirt. And sensible shoes. Sierra Gibbs—academic nerd.

Think Buffy, she reminded herself.

The moment the image of the vampire slayer was clear in her mind, she squared her shoulders. “I can do this.”

Sierra Gibbs was sick and tired of being a coward. If she had to imagine herself as someone else to find some courage, so be it. Striding forward, she pushed through the door of the Blue Pepper.

IN RYDER KANE’S mind, the Blue Pepper was a yuppie haven. And the kick of it was he fit right in. Fifteen years ago when he’d been fighting for survival on the streets of Baltimore, he’d never have imagined ending up in a trendy Georgetown bistro drinking a designer label beer and wearing the kind of finely cut clothes that allowed him to blend in perfectly with the other well-heeled clientele.

If his Aunt Jennie could have seen him now, she would have been proud. And if his mother could have pictured this kind of a future for her son, she might have thought twice about abandoning him when he was twelve.

With a wry smile, he lifted his beer and toasted his high-tech security business, Kane Management; it had played a major role in his transformation. And thank God that computer security wasn’t the only business that he dabbled in. While it had put a great deal of money in his pocket, it was his other business, Favors for a Fee, that was his real love. It provided the kind of adventure and excitement that was lacking in a lot of the security work he did. Not to mention that doing “favors” for a select clientele allowed him to use some of the skills he’d picked up when he’d served for two years in a Special Forces unit.

But tonight wasn’t about work. Ryder was meeting up with Mark Anderson, an up-and-coming investigative reporter for The Washington Post. He was looking forward to seeing Mark. His friendship with Mark went back to his early days in Baltimore. They’d been fifteen or so. Of course, neither of them had worked in legitimate professions then. They’d both had close brushes with the law and survived mostly on street smarts. But they’d been friends. In addition to that, the cryptic message Mark had left on his voice mail had intrigued him: “I’ve got something hot and political that I need your perspective on. Meet me at the Blue Pepper at five.”

Turning slightly on the bar stool, Ryder scanned the entrance area and the upper dining level. Then he checked the crowd in the bar again. In the half hour that he’d been waiting, the area had filled so that patrons were standing three-deep, and conversation, thanks for the most part to a group at the far end of the bar, now drowned out the TV set that was carrying the final inning of an Orioles game.

“Hey!” a large man waved a hand at the bartender. “Another round over here.”

It was the third round the rather obnoxious man had ordered since he’d taken his seat. Ryder glanced at his watch. There was no sign of Mark Anderson, and it was nearly five-thirty.

He was lifting his glass for another sip of beer when he spotted the tall blonde through the glass entrance door. She wore her pale, straw-colored hair fastened into bun, and even though she wore a loose-fitting jacket and long skirt, he could see that she had that slender, Audrey Hepburn/Nicole Kidman kind of body. Sexy.

Tall women with mile-long legs were one of his weaknesses. Twisting his chair a little further, he watched as she used an inhaler and then paced back and forth in front of the restaurant while she studied a blue paper. A true nervous Nelly, he decided. Finally, she paused, stuffed the paper into her bag, squared her shoulders and approached the door.

His curiosity piqued, Ryder narrowed his eyes. She looked as if she were preparing to face a firing squad instead of joining friends for a drink in one of Georgetown’s most popular watering holes. Was she meeting a man? If so, she surely didn’t look as though she were looking forward to it. The thought had him frowning.

She crossed the entrance area and climbed the short flight of stairs to the bar. As she drew closer, he could see a shadow of a frown marring what appeared to be a perfect face. His own frown deepened when he saw that one of her hands gripped the large canvas bag she wore slung over her shoulder as if it were a lifeline.

He had a sudden urge to go to her, take her hands, and ask her what he could do to help. The realization, and the effort it took to remain on his stool, surprised him. Rescuing damsels in distress was not the type of work that either Kane Management or Favors for a Fee regularly engaged in. He might like women in all their various shapes and sizes, but he didn’t often find himself with an urge to do the knight-in-shining-armor thing.

He was bored. That’s what it was. Mark Anderson had piqued his curiosity and then kept him waiting for over half an hour. Swivelling back to the bar, Ryder took another sip of beer and checked on the score. The Orioles were tied at the top of the seventh. He didn’t turn when she passed behind him. That was why he only glimpsed what happened out of the corner of his eye. The loud obnoxious man who was working on his third beer shoved another man and that man plowed into another in a domino effect that sent the blonde stumbling backward.

Fate, he thought, slipping from his stool and catching her elbows as she struggled for balance. For one brief moment, as he steadied her, he caught her scent—something that reminded him of tart lemonade on a hot afternoon. Surprising. And certainly not sexy, at least he wouldn’t have thought so. But his body had different ideas. If he’d followed his impulse, he would have turned her around and pressed her close, just to see what that would feel like. But Ryder Kane could be cautious when the occasion called for it. And the intuition that he’d come to rely on in his work told him something about this fragile beauty spelled trouble.

“You all right?” he asked as he turned her around and carefully set her away from him.

“Yes.” Then she gasped. “My bag.”

Ryder saw the canvas bag on the floor, its contents spread about. As he dropped to his knees, he picked up the nearest item—the inhaler she’d used. He reached for the objects that had slid beneath his bar stool—a pack of blue note cards and a plastic bottle that held prescription pills. Sierra Gibbs was the name he noted and she was to take two as needed for migraines. A definite nervous Nelly.

“Thanks.” The voice was deep and just a little breathless. When he turned, she was on her knees facing him, and for an instant as he gazed into her eyes, his mind went blank except for one word. You.

Ryder couldn’t put a name to the feeling that raced through him. It didn’t feel like the flashes of intuition he sometimes got. And it couldn’t be recognition. The first time he’d laid eyes on this woman was a few moments ago.

This close, her face wasn’t quite as perfect as it had seemed from a distance. Oh, the skin made him think of pale and delicate porcelain—the kind that you were almost afraid to touch. But the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the faint scar on her chin made it more interesting.

The hair wasn’t quite perfect either. Several long strands had come loose. Reaching out, he resisted the urge to pull the rest loose and instead tucked one of the stands behind her ear. He heard her quick intake of breath and felt the instant tightening of his body as his fingers touched her skin. When she bit even white teeth into her bottom lip, heat shot through him. He wanted very much to replace those teeth with his own.

Okay. Now he could name exactly what he was feeling. Lust. That was familiar. He might have even relaxed a bit if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t quite free himself from her gaze. Her eyes were the deep-blue color of lake water—the kind that tempted you to jump right in even though there was no telling what lay below the surface. From the time he’d been a kid, he’d been fascinated by the water, by the secrets it held, the adventures it promised.

“You remind me of someone,” she said in that same breathless voice that sent ripples of awareness along his skin.

“Really?” He watched her eyes narrow until she was looking at him as if she were determined to see everything.

She took a deep breath. “Have me met somewhere before?”

He smiled. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

WHEN SIERRA caught his meaning, she felt color flood her cheeks. In a moment, she’d be beet-red. Her skin was already flushed from that arrow of heat that had shot through her during the moment when he’d held her against him. His chest had been hard as a rock, and the warmth of his breath at her temple had made her insides melt. She’d never reacted quite that physically to a man before. She’d never talked to a stranger in a bar before.

And he thought…he thought she was coming on to him.

“I didn’t mean…” she began. “I’m not trying to… It’s just that… I mean…” How was she supposed to explain that strange feeling of recognition she’d felt just seconds ago when she’d looked into his eyes? “I—”

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “I’d rather you didn’t tell me that you’re not trying to pick me up. My ego is very fragile.”

The glint of humor she saw in his eyes settled some of her nerves. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”

Competent and confident were the two words that came to mind as she studied him. He was different from the men who frequented the Blue Pepper—they were either local merchants or the up-and-coming movers and shakers of DC. He was also different from the men she ran into in her field of work. They were slow-moving academics. Cautious book people who seldom took risks. Just like herself.

This man, in addition to having classic Adonis-like good looks, was…what? Real was the first word that came immediately to mind. His skin was a golden-brown that came from working in the sun rather than a tanning salon, and she bet the muscles she’d felt came from something other than a tri-weekly appointment with a personal trainer. And there was a hint of danger about him.

He smiled at her then, and her gaze shifted to his mouth. For a moment she thought of nothing at all, except how those lips might feel pressed to hers. The thought startled her. She’d never before wanted to pull a man’s mouth to hers.

“Why don’t we start over?” He took her hand, and though his fingers only gripped hers lightly, she felt the sensation right down to her toes.

“I’ll say I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere, I’ll introduce myself and I’ll offer to buy you a drink? And you’ll say…?”

She couldn’t say a thing. They were squatting down, leaning toward each other, their fingers linked, their knees nearly brushing, and she’d never felt this kind of intense connection with anyone in her life.

In the part of her mind that hadn’t shut down, she realized that she wasn’t feeling like herself at all. Around them, people edged past. Above them, faint noises swirled—glasses clinking, people talking, laughing. She barely heard them. All she knew was that she wanted this man—this perfect stranger—to kiss her. She couldn’t recall ever wanting anything quite this much. What would happen if she just leaned a little closer, reached up and drew his mouth to hers?

Her sister Natalie would do it. And her sister Rory wouldn’t be the least bit afraid. What about the Sierra she wanted to be? She would do it. Suddenly, the wanting, the need was so strong that she felt herself swaying toward him.

As if he’d read her mind, he tightened his grip on her fingers and his free hand moved to the back of her neck, steadying her. “I want to kiss you,” he said.

Startled, she raised her eyes to meet his, and the old Sierra suddenly reasserted herself. “You…can’t.”

His brows lifted. “If you don’t want me to, offering a challenge isn’t the best strategy.”

She’d known he would be a bit dangerous, but she hadn’t expected the thrill that moved through her. “I’m not offering a challenge. But we’re in a public place. We don’t even know each other.”

His lips curved again. “And your point is?”

She moistened her lips, and tried to focus her thoughts. What was her point? If she truly wanted to initiate a sexual relationship with a man, she had to start somewhere. It would be good practice. “Never before in my life have I wanted to kiss someone that I didn’t know.”

Something flashed into his eyes then, and it made her breath hitch.

“That makes two of us,” he murmured as he took her mouth with his.

A riot of sensations moved through her. His mouth was just as strong, just as competent as she’d anticipated. It terrified her. It delighted her. The scrape of his teeth on her bottom lip, the clever slide of his tongue over hers sent tiny explosions of pleasure shooting through her.

She’d never been kissed like this—as if he had all the time in the world to take and take and take. She’d never felt this alive. Her blood pounded, her body heated until all the worry, all the anxiety that had been plaguing her for weeks seemed to evaporate. She should think. But how could she when her whole being seemed to be filled with him? No one had ever made her feel this way. So wanted. So wanton. So free.

You. The word repeated itself over and over in her head as she gripped his shoulders and felt those tensed, hard muscles. Greed erupted in her. She wanted to touch more of him. She wanted to run her fingers through that dark hair. She wanted to press her palms against his chest, his back, his waist. And she wanted his clothes out of the way.

With a moan, she moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

RYDER FELT as if he were going under for the last time. Worse, he felt as if this time he’d be sucked into a riptide that would drag him places he’d never been before.

Oh, he’d experienced the sparks from the moment that he’d touched her. Those he’d been familiar enough with. And he’d known that he was skilled enough to fan them into a flame. That had been his plan. He would coax until she offered and then take a real taste of her.

But she wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Her mouth wasn’t soft and warm as he’d expected. Instead, it was hot and avid and as demanding as his own. She was so alive. So responsive. He felt the beat of her pulse against his fingertips, the moan vibrating deep in her throat. And beneath the passion, he could sense innocence, too.

Greed—his, hers, or a combination—rocketed through his system, tearing at his control. This was a first for him. No woman had ever set off this fevered combination of sensations and needs.

Needs? Even as a little alarm bell went off in his mind, Ryder felt a flash of intuition—the kind he often got when he was working on a case. This woman could have the power to shake up a life he was perfectly satisfied with. That uncomfortable possibility, along with the fact that they were kneeling on the floor of a very public place, had him grasping the reins of his control and pulling tight.

Slowly, he set her from him. Her eyes were huge and that blue color had turned smoky. Her hair had tumbled to her shoulders, and she looked every bit as stunned as he felt.

“Are you all right?” His voice was ragged, and when he drew in a deep breath, his lungs burned. He’d forgotten to breathe. Another first. Just who was this woman that she could do this to him?

It had been years since he’d allowed himself to need anyone or anything. No one could be depended on. He’d learned that lesson the hard way when his mother had walked out on him, and later, when his aunt had left him too. He was always careful to keep his relationships with women uncomplicated and mutually satisfying. This woman had complications written all over her.

Despite all that, he wanted to kiss her again. He was going to have to give that some thought.

When she closed her eyes, and sagged, he felt a sprint of fear. That was a first too. How could he feel such a concern for a woman he didn’t even know?

“Are you all right?” he repeated as he tightened his grip on her.

NO, SHE WASN’T all right. And she wasn’t feeling like herself at all. Clenching her fists, Sierra stiffened her spine, and wished for her inhaler. If she’d had any strength in her limbs, she might have tried to find it. Instead, on a count of ten, she drew in a breath and let it out.

“Fine. I’m fine.” She would be in a minute. What had she been thinking? She’d kissed him. She’d let him kiss her back. And there was something, someone, inside her who wanted very much to repeat the experience.

She drew in another breath and pushed down the little ripples of panic that threatened to turn into huge waves. The problem was she hadn’t been thinking at all when he was kissing her. For those few moments, she’d felt so extraordinary, so…wild, and so incredibly wanton. It was as if she were a totally different woman. She took yet another breath.

“Here,” he said, pushing something into the hand he’d been holding. “Do you need this? Or this?”

Once he released her hand, her brain started to clear. Sierra glanced down to see that he was offering her inhaler and the prescription pills she carried with her at all times. Reality check. This was the old Sierra Gibbs, she thought, a woman who suffered from asthma and migraines. That Sierra wasn’t a woman who kissed strangers in bars. So who was the woman who had kissed this man?

It was a new question and her desire to find the answer to it had her fighting off another onslaught of panic. She used her inhaler. Then feeling a bit steadier, she said, “Thanks.” Steeling herself, she met his eyes.

Concern was all she saw. There was nothing of the desire she’d seen earlier. Sierra swallowed her disappointment. All of her life she’d managed to bring out the protective streak in men. Even Bradley Winthrop, the man she was currently seeing, treated her as if he were her caretaker.

Wasn’t that one of the reasons that she’d come up with her five-step plan? She didn’t want to be the baby who was taken care of anymore. And she wanted to be a take-charge woman in the bedroom as well as out. In short, she wanted to be the woman she’d just been in this man’s arms.

She’d do well to remember that she had a five-step plan. But while she was gazing into his eyes, it was difficult to remember the steps. His eyes were as gray as smoke, the kind that could swallow you up in a heartbeat. For the first time in her life, the thought of losing herself that way sent a little thrill through her.

Oh, she was definitely not the same woman who’d walked into the bar a few minutes ago. But she wasn’t at all sure that she was ready to be the woman she’d felt bloom inside her during that kiss. She had to think…she…

“At least let me buy you a drink. You look as if you could use one. I know I could.”

“Yes. Okay.” The words were out before she remembered. “Oh no, I can’t. I forgot.” She tore her eyes from his and glanced around. How could she have forgotten her sisters, not to mention her father’s letter?

“You have a date?”

“Yes.” She grabbed her canvas bag and stuffed the pills and the inhaler into it. “Sort of.” Spotting her day planner under a stool, she reached for it, but he was quicker.

“Sierra Gibbs, Ph.D.” He read the name off the card that had slipped out of the plastic slot on the cover. “What’s the Ph.D. in?”

“Psychology and Sociology.” She glanced around, but didn’t spot the letter from her father.

“Two Ph.D.’s. I’m impressed, Doc. And you’re a shrink?”

In spite of the interest in his voice, she kept her eyes averted. “Not in the way you probably mean. I don’t have a private practice or anything like that.”

“No couch?”

“No. Only psychiatrists use those.” He was smiling, she was sure of it, but she didn’t dare risk another look at his mouth. She wouldn’t be able to think if she did. “I teach at Georgetown in the graduate school. Mostly, I do research and write. I just finished a book.” She was babbling. And no wonder. Her lips were still vibrating from that kiss.

In spite of her resolve, she found herself looking at his mouth again. Immediately, curiosity began to war with common sense. If she just had the courage to lean forward and close the distance, would she experience that same whirl of sensations again? The thought slipped into her mind so easily, as if the man who’d just kissed her was simply some experiment that she wanted to run through again.

But he wasn’t a lab experiment, and she should really get a grip. Her sisters would be waiting for her, she reminded herself. She was never late for an appointment. And she had her father’s letter to read.

Scrambling reluctantly to her feet, she said, “I really have to go.”

She made it halfway to the stairs that led to the upper dining level when she remembered the letter. With a flutter of panic, she whirled around and saw that he was right behind her, the envelope in his outstretched hand.

“It was under one of the stools,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Ryder grabbed her wrist before she could turn and used a finger under her chin so that she had to meet his eyes.

“The kiss was my pleasure, too, Dr. Gibbs.”

“I…it was…I don’t think…I…”

Ryder smiled at her. This blushing, flustered woman was the nervous Nellie he’d first spotted pacing in front of the restaurant. This side of her contrasted sharply with the determined-looking Joan of Arc who’d strode so purposefully into the restaurant. And then there was the woman he’d held in his arms a few minutes ago. “Kisses are best when you can’t think at all—don’t you think?”

Color flooded her face, and Ryder saw once again the innocence that he’d sensed in the woman who’d kissed him so passionately. How many other women lurked below the surface? Curious, he felt the strong pull of desire. Oh, there were complications here all right.

“That kiss was…” she began.

“Incredibly exciting.”

“Yes, but I think…I’m sure….”

Later, Ryder would wonder if he might have given into impulse and kissed her again right then and there, but his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The high-tech version of “saved by the bell,” he supposed as he took it out.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said to Sierra Gibbs before, with some effort, he turned away and took the call.

“Ryder, it’s Mark.” Static rattled in his ear for a second. “…delayed…not going…make it.”

Right. Mark Anderson, the man he was supposed to meet. And the man who’d slipped right out of his mind for the past few minutes. “Where are you?”

“I’ve been…think it was worth it.”

In spite of the choppy connection, Ryder could hear the excitement in his old friend’s voice, and something else that he recognized as fear. “Are you all right?”

“…can’t talk…on the phone. Not safe…they can trace the location…?”

“If they have the right equipment,” Ryder said. And just what was Mark involved in that he’d have people tracing his cell? “Are you in trouble?”

“…tomorrow…same place?”

“Sure. Blue Pepper, five o’clock?” Ryder frowned when he realized that the call had ended. He hoped that they had the time straight between them.

He was about to climb back on his stool when he spotted the blue note card beneath it. It had to have fallen out of the doc’s bag. He bent over and picked it up. He was turning, intending to take it to her, when his gaze fell on the neat little list.

A five-step plan for initiating a sexual relationship with a man.

Intrigued, he read further.

1 Attend speed-date night at the Blue Pepper and collect data. 7/28.

2 Study data. 7/29.

3 Select a lover. 7/30.

4 Review and select appropriate sex techniques. 7/31.

5 Initiate sexual relationship.

Could this possibly be what it seemed to be? Eyes narrowed, Ryder read the list again.

What kind of a woman set out to have an affair with a to-do list in hand?

2

AS SIERRA made her way up the stairs to the dining room, she felt two different women warring inside of her. One of them wanted to turn around and kiss that man again. The other one was much more cautious. The second was the one who currently had the upper hand.

Still, she’d kissed a stranger in a bar and part of her had enjoyed it. She hugged the knowledge to her, hoping that the experience would give her the confidence she needed to go forward with her plan.

She spotted her sisters the minute she entered the dining room. They were already seated and Rad, one of the owners of the Blue Pepper, was emptying a tray of drinks and an hors d’oeuvres platter onto their table.

She was late. Just how much time had she spent kneeling on the floor with that man?

Too much time, a little voice in her head lectured.

Not enough time, another voice taunted. Not nearly enough.

Stopping short, Sierra straightened and drew in a deep breath. It just wasn’t like her to think that way. She dug though her bag and then closed her fingers around the inhaler, just in case she needed it. She had to put the man and the kiss out of her mind until she accomplished her mission.

Drawing in another deep breath, she headed toward the table.

Rad spotted her first and hurried toward her, surprise lighting his features. “Dr. Gibbs! You look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

It was Sierra’s turn to be surprised as Rad hugged her and rose on his toes to kiss the air on one side of her head. Rad and his partner, George, ran the Blue Pepper. George, a huge bronze giant of a man, handled the bar while Rad greeted the customers. A small man, Rad changed his hair color nearly as frequently as he changed his ties. Tonight, the white spikes matched his shirt and the tiny dots in his fuchsia tie. As a dues-paying member of the fashion police, Rad was not given to hyperbole. His usual greeting to her was a sigh.

Holding her at arm’s length, Rad studied her carefully. “It’s your hair. That’s what it is. You’ve finally taken my advice to wear it down.”

Her hair. Sierra ran a hand through it. Sometime during that all-consuming kiss, the man in the bar must have loosened her hair. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see him.

Rad gripped her arms and turned her to face her sisters. “Tell her she looks ravishing with her hair down.”

“Ravishing,” Natalie agreed, winking at Sierra.

“Totally,” Rory said. “We’ve been telling her that for years. But does she listen to us? No. We’re just her sisters. We owe you big-time, Rad.”

“Just part of the service,” Rad said, sweeping them a bow before he turned and hurried away.

“This is a major coup,” Rory said as she snagged a shrimp off the hors d’oeuvres platter. “You’re usually immune to Rad’s advice. What’s up?”

She’d just kissed a stranger in the bar, Sierra thought. From her seat, she was able to scan the bar again, but he wasn’t in sight.

“Sierra?” Natalie asked. “Is something wrong?”

Sierra gripped her inhaler more tightly as she drew in another deep breath and refocused her thoughts. “I’m just a bit nervous about opening Harry’s letter.” That was the truth, just not the whole truth.

“Have a shrimp,” Rory said, pushing the platter closer. “Food always soothes my nerves.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Sierra said.

“At least take a drink of the martini we ordered,” Natalie advised.

That she could do. Dutch courage was always helpful when you never had any of your own. After raising her glass, she clinked it to her sisters’, took a sip and prayed that the nerves dancing in her stomach would settle from a polka to a slow waltz.

“Dad’s letter won’t be as bad as you think it’s going to be. Isn’t that right, Rory?”

“Absolutely,” Rory mumbled around a stuffed mushroom. “I felt much better about everything after I read mine.”

Sierra thought of the men in her sisters’ lives. “Chance and Hunter must be annoyed that I stole you away tonight.”

Natalie snorted. “Fat chance. They’re having some kind of a men’s night out. I think gambling is involved.”

“And beer,” Rory said, reaching for a mozzarella stick. “They were quite happy to see the last of us.”

“You guys really hit the jackpot, didn’t you?” Sierra asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Natalie said with a smile.

“Definitely,” Rory said.

One look at the expressions on her sisters’ faces confirmed her belief that she was doing the right thing. They’d not only found men and love, but they’d also had wonderful adventures. She’d settle for the man. That much she was pretty sure she could do. And she didn’t even mind if the relationship was temporary. Whatever her father said in his message, she wasn’t going to let it dissuade her. She’d just look at her sisters.

Better still, she’d let herself remember that kiss.

She let go of the inhaler, then drew the letter out of her bag and set it on the table in front of her. There was her name, written in her father’s hand. She wasn’t aware that she’d clenched her hands into fists until Natalie covered one of them. “He loved us. We know now that he regretted the promise he made to mother to stay away.”

Rory took Sierra’s other hand. “It’s like when you get called to the principal’s office. The anticipation is always worse than the reality.”

Sierra had never been called to the principal’s office in her life. Since she’d always caused her family so much trouble with her illnesses, she’d concentrated on being perfect in everything else. It was the least she could do.

Sierra resisted the urge to use her inhaler. Her breath was short, but not nearly as much as it had been when that stranger had kissed her.

Pushing the thought away, she focused on the letter. She could do this. She really could. From the envelope, she pulled out a single folded sheet of paper and opened it up.

Dearest Sierra, my beautiful dreamer,

Even when you were little, your imagination and your curiosity amazed me. And you were so smart, that sometimes you scared your mother and me. My biggest regret is that I didn’t have more time to spend with you.

You of all my daughters have the power to make all your dreams come true. Don’t be afraid to dream big. And always remember that life is better than any dream. It’s a better adventure than anything you can find in a book or a movie. Trust in yourself and take the risk of believing that, Sierra.

Love,

Harry

When she realized that she was chewing on her bottom lip, Sierra made herself stop. Finally, she said, “I didn’t think he knew me that well.”

“Of course, he did,” Rory insisted, her characteristic impatience clear in her voice.

Sierra shook her head. “He was always going off with the two of you, and I had to stay home because I was sick.”

“What about all the time he spent with you when you were in the hospital?” Natalie asked. “Whenever he could, he’d stay the night. We were always jealous. I think Mom was too.”

For the first time since she’d taken the letter out of her purse, Sierra glanced up and met her sisters’ gazes. “I guess I don’t remember.” But she’d had dreams of someone holding her hand. Had that really been Harry?

Sierra turned to Natalie. “I mostly remember that he taught you to crack safes.” She shifted her gaze to Rory. “And he took you horseback-riding.”

“But he read books to you,” Natalie said. “Rory and I used to sit outside your bedroom door and listen. He never read books to us.”

“I do remember some of that,” Sierra said with a sudden smile. “Once he read me ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears,’ and he told me Mom would probably have a fit because Goldilocks was a housebreaker and a very bad role model.”

“That sounds like him,” Natalie said.

“Aren’t you going to look at the photos?” Rory asked.

“Oh. I forgot.” There had been pictures in her sisters’ letters, too. Sierra slipped hers from the envelope and spread them out on the table. One had been snapped when she’d given the valedictory address at her high-school graduation. Another was one of her poring over books at her college library. Both were typically Sierra, the studious bookworm, she thought.

Then the third one caught her attention. She was sitting on a park bench in Rock Creek Park watching the joggers and in-line skaters whip by. It had been one of those perfect spring days that were so plentiful in DC. She’d been a freshman in college, and she’d been so envious of the skaters.

“There you go,” Rory said, pointing to the picture. “He knew you all right. Look at the expression on your face.”

“What expression?” Sierra asked, studying the picture more closely.

“The one that you always had when Rory and I got to do something and you couldn’t.” Natalie tapped a finger on the photo. “You’re wishing you could be skating, too.”

She’d tried to satisfy her wishes by daydreaming, Sierra recalled. She still did.

“This picture is another way he’s telling you that if you believe in yourself, you can do anything you want,” Rory said.

Sierra swallowed to ease the lump that had formed in her throat. Had Harry really believed that?

“So, tell us.” Rory reached for another shrimp. “What is it that you really want?”

That man in the bar.

The thought slid so easily into her mind that, for a moment, Sierra couldn’t speak. Panic bubbled up. She couldn’t want him. He was so out of her league. Besides, she had a perfectly logical five-step plan, and she couldn’t see that man fitting into any kind of plan.

“That’s got to be a tough one for you,” Natalie commented. “Your life’s just about perfect. You’ve accomplished everything you’ve set out to do.”

Sierra glanced down at her father’s words and then back up at her sisters again. Then she took a deep breath. “I want to initiate a sexual relationship with a man.”

“Oh.” Her sisters spoke in unison, then exchanged a quick glance.

“You and Bradley Winthrop are getting serious then?” Natalie asked.

“No.” Sierra frowned. “Bradley and I are just friends.” She tilted her head in thought. “We go to dinner and the opera together, and we visit interesting exhibits at the Smithsonian. Our relationship is stimulating on an intellectual level, but it’s strictly platonic.”

“Then you’ve met someone new?” Rory asked.

Sierra thought of the man in the bar. “No. I haven’t selected the man yet. But I’m ready for a relationship that will be physically stimulating. So I’m going to find a lover.”

“What can we do to help?” Natalie said.

Sierra blinked and stared. She’d expected a negative reaction—especially from her oldest sister. “Nothing.” She took another sip of her martini. “I have a plan, and you’re not going to talk me out of it.”

“Why would we do that?” Rory asked.

Once again, Sierra stared at her sisters. “Because I…because you…” She drew in a deep breath. “I was so sure that you’d try and talk me out of it.”

“Yeah, well, Natalie and I have already discussed the issue. And we decided that we couldn’t very well do one thing and lecture you to do another. You were the one who encouraged me to go after Chance.”

“And you were right there cheering me on after I met Hunter.” Rory took her hand.

“In fact, if you hadn’t brought it up, we were going to suggest that you become more socially active and get out and meet someone,” Natalie admitted.

“Following Harry’s advice has been very good for us, so if you’ve decided to take a lover, we’d hardly be the ones to give you any grief,” Rory added.

Even as relief flowed through her, Sierra felt nerves once more begin to jump in her stomach. They weren’t going to argue. She felt as though she’d geared up for a battle and the enemy had turned tail and run before she’d had a chance to fire off the first shot.

“You mentioned a plan,” Natalie said. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

“Me, too,” Rory said. “We might have some suggestions.”

Sierra nearly smiled as she reached into her bag for her note card. “That’s more like it. For a minute I thought that perhaps my sisters had been replaced by aliens.”

Natalie’s brows shot up. “We just want the chance to offer advice. Isn’t that what sisters are for?”

“Yes,” Sierra said as she sorted through the contents of her bag.

“How many steps?” Natalie asked. “With Chance, I only needed about three.”

“Ha!” Rory pointed a pepper strip at Natalie. “I win. I only needed one step with Hunter.”

Sierra could feel her day planner, her inhaler, the pills, and the pack of note cards. Frowning, she opened the mouth of the bag wider. The single blue note card listing the steps wasn’t there. Had she dropped it in the bar? If she went back to look for it, she might run into that stranger again.

Pushing the thought and the temptation firmly out of her mind, she cleared her throat and focused her attention on her sisters. “As part of my research on my new book, I’ve been studying the sexual practices of urban dwellers.”

“City people?” Rory asked.

Sierra nodded and then took another sip of her martini. “Rad and George have been kind enough to allow me to do some of my research right here on Wednesdays when they reserve this dining room for speed dating.”

“Speed dating?” Natalie asked.

“You know,” Rory said, “it’s kind of like musical chairs. Remember the episode they did on Sex and the City with Miranda. She talked to each date for about ten minutes to see if something clicked.”

“Whoa.” Natalie’s frown deepened as she studied Sierra. “You’re going to choose a lover during a ten-minute conversation?”

“No. The speed date is step one,” Sierra explained. “Step two is to analyze the data I collect and then select a lover.”

“Time out,” Rory said. “A speed date is just a prelude to a real date. How can you possibly gather enough data to select a man as a lover?”

“By using the time efficiently. I see no reason to bother with casual conversation. After I tell them that I’m looking for a lover, I’m going to ask each man a few questions. Their answers will provide me with a profile of just what kind of lover they will make.”

Rory and Natalie exchanged a glance, then looked at Sierra.

Sierra began to chew on her bottom lip again. These were her sisters all right. She’d lost count of the times that Natalie and Rory had looked at her in just this way when she was growing up, as if she were the alien. “You don’t think it will work?”

“No.” Her sisters spoke in unison, and then Natalie said, “That’s not it. We think it might work too well—especially if you tell them right up front that you’re looking for a lover.”

“I don’t see why I should hide my intentions.”

Natalie shook her head. “There are times when a little subtlety is…advisable.”

“You don’t know what kind of men come here. They could take advantage of you,” Rory added.

“But I do know what kind of men come here. I’ve been studying them for three months now. My research assistant and I have taken copious notes and written up several case histories.”

“As a psychologist, you know that people lie,” Rory said. “They can easily pretend to be something they’re not.”

Sierra frowned.

“Right. We all wear disguises,” Natalie added.

“During that speed-dating episode on Sex and the City, even Miranda lied,” Rory said. “Didn’t she tell one guy that she was a flight attendant?”

Sierra set her clasped hands on the letter. “All right. Perhaps, I won’t tell them straight out that I’m looking for a lover. But I’m going to ask them some questions.”

“Such as?” Rory asked.

“They’re very simple—kind of like a Rorschach test without the pictures. Things like what kind of musical instrument or breed of dog would you like to be, or what three things would you take to a deserted island with you?”

“And from that you’ll learn…?” Rory asked.

Sierra could feel her cheeks redden. “The subject’s answers will provide a profile of his sexual preferences as well as indicate his style of lovemaking.”

“Really?” Rory asked.

“My research assistant, Zoë McNamara, and I have been testing it on volunteers. When we interview the test subjects, we’ve found that our profiles have been quite accurate.”

Natalie tapped her fingers on the table. “What will you do with your results?”

“I’ll take them home and run a match with my own profile. After that, I’ll contact prospective lovers according to how well they match up with me.”

For a moment, neither one of her sisters said a word.

“You don’t think it will work?” Sierra finally asked.

Natalie drank some of her martini, then said, “I’ve no doubt that you’ll probably get an accurate profile of the parties involved. But what you’ve described is a very…cerebral process. And taking a lover—well, it’s a very physical thing. There has to be a certain…chemistry. I’m not sure you can predict that with a quiz.”

Rory leaned forward. “I’m on the same page here as Nat. Did you ever give this quiz to Bradley?”

“Well, yes,” Sierra replied.

“How well did his profile line up with yours?” Rory asked.

“Almost perfectly.”

Rory turned her hands over, palms up. “There you go. A perfect match, but no chemistry. Your relationship has remained platonic. That’s not a recipe for success in a love affair.”

“The up side is she’ll be right there at a table with them. She could shake their hands,” Natalie pointed out.

“Right,” Rory said.

Natalie turned to Sierra. “The important thing is not to over-think this whole thing. You have to learn to trust your feelings. If an electric shock goes up your arm and right down to your toes, then you might want to move that candidate to the top of your list—no matter what the quiz results tell you.”

“Or if you look into his eyes and your knees turn to jelly, he’s another prime candidate for a lover,” Rory said. “The first time I met Hunter, it was his eyes. He looked at me as if he were the Terminator and I was his prey. I lost every thought in my head.”

Sierra drew in a deep breath. “I don’t usually have that kind of reaction to men.” Except to the stranger she’d just kissed in the bar.

“Then it’s high time you did,” Natalie said.

“And under no circumstance should you take a lover unless you do,” Rory added.

“One thing more,” Natalie said. “Once you’ve found a candidate, I want the name so that I can run a check on him.”

Rory shot Sierra a sympathetic glance. “That’s what comes of having a sister who’s a cop.”

“And if your experiment works, Rory will press you for an interview so that she can write the whole thing up in Vanity Fair. That’s what comes from having a sister who’s a journalist.”

For the first time since she’d pushed her way through the front door of the Blue Pepper, Sierra felt some of her apprehension ease. Oh, the nerves were still dancing in her stomach, but she was going to go through with her plan, and she felt much better that she was doing it with her sisters’ approval. And Harry’s. Raising her martini, she said, “To chemistry.”

“To chemistry,” her sisters repeated.

“And to Harry,” Sierra added as she touched her glass to theirs.

3

THE BEATLES ratcheted up the rhythm on “Yellow Submarine” just as the first raindrops splattered against his windshield and the cars in front of him slowed to a crawl. Ryder slammed on the brakes and hit the button to put the top up on his car. Then, cutting into the far-left lane, he gained a dozen car lengths before those vehicles also came to a halt.

The skies opened up with a vengeance. As the minutes ticked away without even a trickle of movement in any lane, the Beatles ended their song, and the last hope Ryder had of getting to the Blue Pepper by five o’clock evaporated. Mark Anderson was going to have to wait.

He wasn’t pleased because his intuition told him that Mark needed more than advice. But something had come up that had made time tight for Ryder today.

Jed Calhoun had called him late last night, and he could hardly refuse to do a favor for an old friend. Especially when that friend was in trouble. He and Jed had worked for the government in a special-operations unit, and the man had saved his life.

According to Jed, the last job he’d done for the government had gone wrong, and he’d become the scapegoat. Clearing Jed’s name was just the kind of job that Ryder liked. So today he’d settled his old friend on the houseboat he kept on the Chesapeake. Jed’s safety would be assured there until they handled the problem.

And if the trip to the houseboat had allowed him to get in a little fishing, well, a man had to recharge somehow.

He fiddled with the radio dial, switching to an all-day news station that offered traffic updates. But he spotted the medevac helicopter overhead before the announcement was made about the fifteen-car pile-up about a mile ahead.

Leaning back, Ryder willed his tension to disappear. His two years in the special operations unit he and Jed had served in had taught him the value of channeling frustration away. No way was he going to lecture himself that he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d stayed in the city.

For the time being, there was nothing he could do. An accident would take time to clear. The emergency vehicles would be slowed down because of the rush-hour traffic and the weather.

For five minutes, Ryder focused on relaxing both his mind and his body, something that his afternoon of fishing hadn’t quite accomplished. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite clear his mind of two problems. First of all, with every minute that ticked by, his intuition was telling him that Mark needed him. Spurred by his thoughts, he reached for his cell, punched in the number that Mark had given him and left yet another message on his voice mail. Mark hadn’t been answering his cell since Ryder had taken his call the night before. Not a good sign.

That done, his mind drifted to his second problem—the other person who’d been haunting his thoughts—Dr. Sierra Gibbs.

How often had he thought of her in the past twenty-four hours? Too often. How much did he want to kiss her again? Too much. How many times had he reached for his phone to call her? Too many.

Ryder shifted into a more comfortable position, tucking his hands behind his head. What exactly was it that had kept her in his thoughts for a night and most of the day? Not the fact that she was beautiful. Of course, he’d been attracted by that. He was a man. But his fascination with Dr. Sierra Gibbs went deeper. First of all, there was her response when he’d kissed her. She was so generous, holding nothing back. And there was the innocence he’d sensed beneath the passion. That had certainly pulled at him too.

Dr. Sierra Gibbs was a puzzle: nervous, passionate, innocent, honest. Those eyes couldn’t lie. Maybe it was the honesty that drew him the most. And dammit, he’d always liked puzzles.

Most women, he could figure out. His mother, who’d left him for a man who’d promised money and didn’t want a kid, had been easy to peg. And his aunt, who’d taken him in and loved him unconditionally until she’d died, he’d come to understand too, and he still mourned the loss.

And then there’d been the women he’d dated—well, he’d had an understanding with them. Any relationship he’d ever had with a woman had been simple and uncomplicated and based on mutual pleasure. Mostly, they’d parted as friends. And when he’d had regrets, they’d been temporary.

But none of those women had ever touched him the way that brief meeting with Sierra Gibbs had.

As ridiculous as the idea was, he couldn’t rid his mind of the suspicion that the woman was actually thinking of taking a lover based on that to-do list. Perhaps she already had. The thought of that had been gnawing at him all day. He didn’t like the idea one bit. If she was going to take a lover…

With a sigh, Ryder reached for his phone again. In his experience, the best way to solve a problem was to face it head on. Maybe his life was due for a bit of complication. He punched in the number that he’d memorized from her card the night before.

SURVEYING THE MESS on her usually neat desk, Sierra was chewing on her bottom lip when the phone rang. “Yes?”

“Dr. Gibbs?”

“Yes.” She recognized the voice immediately. She’d been thinking about him all day. Daydreaming about him. A part of her had been wishing that he’d call. Another part of her, the old Sierra, had been hoping that he wouldn’t. She’d gotten over the first two hurdles of her plan—opening the letter and telling her sisters—but now that she was faced with implementing it, the old fears and insecurities had resurfaced. She was back to feeling like Jane Eyre again. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the man I met in the Blue Pepper last night.”

“To be a bit more precise, this is the man you kissed in the Blue Pepper last night. Is it raining there yet?”

“No.” She could hear the grin in his voice, and picturing it made her remember his mouth. When her knees weakened, she sank into her chair. How could he have this effect on her?

“I didn’t expect you to call. What do you want?”

“For starters, I want to kiss you again.”

Sierra’s breath caught in her throat as the little thrill moved through her. She swallowed as a burst of panic followed in its wake. “I…think the kiss was a mistake.” As soon as the words were out she bit her bottom lip. Oh, yeah. Timid little Jane was back all right.

“That’s an interesting theory, Doc. We can test it the next time we kiss.”

“That’s not going to—” Sierra cut herself off. The last thing she wanted to do was to issue a challenge. He’d already told her the danger in doing that. She’d spent a long, sleepless night and most of the day thinking about this man and his effect on her. The pile of folders in front her testified to how little work she’d accomplished, and she’d just come from explaining to her research assistant that she was behind.

She had a pretty good idea that the memory of that kiss was the reason she was backsliding. She’d already decided that this man was not the type she’d be able to follow a five-step plan with. Last night they’d nearly jumped to step five after one kiss! And she’d convinced herself that she needed her plan. It was her security blanket.

“You were about to say?” he prompted.

“Something I’m sure I’d regret.”

He laughed and the sound had her lips curving. She could picture him in her mind quite easily. Right now, there was an engaging gleam of laughter in his eyes and a smile curving his mouth.

That mouth. She tried to erase the image from her mind, but a whirlwind of sensations was already whipping through her. This—this was what she was afraid of. But there was a part of her that had been dreaming of this and more…

“Fess up, Doc. You were about to say that we weren’t going to kiss again. And I had my counterargument all ready.”

“Your counterargument?”

“Be prepared is my motto. Picked it up in the Boy Scouts. You want to hear it?”

Amused in spite of herself, Sierra said, “I’m not sure.”

“Be a shame to waste it. I geared it to suit my audience. You being a scientist, I figure you’re going to be curious about whether or not what we both felt last night was some kind of fluke—a one-time flash in the pan—or whether it might happen again. And again. From a scientific viewpoint, the only way to find out would be to run the experiment again, right?”

Sierra’s smile widened. “Nicely done. But it seems to me if I answer your question, I’m issuing an invitation.”

“Yep. That’s the way I see it too. How about it?”

“I don’t think so.” She bit back a sigh of regret.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Doc.”

His comment hit the bull’s eye and had Sierra straightening her shoulders. “I’m not.”

“Then how about meeting me for a drink at the Blue Pepper later this evening?”

Panic and regret warred inside her as she took a deep breath. “I can’t. I have plans. In fact, I’m on the way to the Blue Pepper to meet someone now.”

“Your sisters?” he asked.

“No.” She paused, frowning. “How did you know I have sisters?”

“I was curious so I asked the bartender about the women you were in such a rush to join last night. Look, how about if I offer you an incentive to meet with me? I’ve got something—a blue card that fell out of your bag last night.”

Sierra felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Looks like a to-do list.”

“I…it’s…” What must he think? She placed a hand against her heart to keep it from hammering right out of her chest as the steps she’d written down scrolled through her mind. Speed date, analyze data, select a lover, select the proper sex techniques… She could pretty much guess what he might be thinking.

“I figured you might want it back.”

“No.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “It’s nothing. You can just throw it away.”

“Sure thing. So…if you’re not meeting your sisters, I assume you’ve got a date tonight?”

“Yes.” Relief streamed through her. He wasn’t going to press her about the list.

“You’ve already selected a lover then?”

“No,” she said as a knock sounded at the door and Zoë McNamara, her research assistant, peeked in.

“I was hoping I would catch you,” Zoë said.

“Can you hold for a minute?” Sierra said into the phone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” her assistant said.

“You haven’t.” As she gestured her into the office, Sierra studied the small brunette in front of her. In terms of looks, she and Zoë were polar opposites. Her assistant was a short, slender woman with brown hair that she wore pulled back into a braid. But Sierra could see herself in Zoë’s total dedication to her studies and to the project they were working on. Zoë wore reading glasses with large dark-framed lenses that made her look like a total, academic nerd—exactly what Sierra had been for the last eight years.

She was determined to change that.

“What is it, Zoë?”

“I came for the reports you wanted me to look over.”

“I haven’t gotten to them yet,” Sierra said. They were somewhere in the pile of work on her desk.

Zoë reached into one of the pockets in her baggy sweater. “You left this on my desk.”

Sierra stared down at the blue note card that contained the questions she needed for her speed dates. How could she have possibly left it on Zoë’s desk? If she’d gone to the Blue Pepper without them, the evening would have been a complete waste.

“Thank you.” Sierra reached for the cards.

Zoë hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Is anything wrong? I mean…you never forget things. And I’ve never known you to fall behind on your work.”

“Maybe I’ve been working too hard,” Sierra said. But she was pretty sure that the reason for her distraction was right now on the other end of her cell phone. The thought made her frown.

“Well, then…” Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Zoë backed toward the door and then turned and scurried through it.

Sierra sighed. Looking at Zoë was too much like looking into a mirror, and she was tired of the image.

As she lifted the phone to her ear, she took a quick glance at her watch. “Hi. Look, I have to go. I’m late. And I hate to be late.” She grabbed her canvas bag and slipped the blue note card into it.

“You’d better take your umbrella. I’d say it’s going to start to rain in DC within the next twenty minutes or so.”

As if to confirm his prediction, a roll of thunder sounded. Sierra glanced out the window and saw the sky was growing steadily darker. Where had she put her umbrella? Not in her bottom drawer where it should be. Not on her bookshelves. Turning, in a complete circle, she spotted it leaning in the corner next to the door. Tucking her cell phone under her ear, she scooped the umbrella up and stuffed it under her arm.

“So who’s the ‘sort of’ date with?”

“I don’t know.” After stepping into the hallway, she set the canvas bag and umbrella down so she could lock her door. “It’s sort of a blind date.”

“Why in hell does a woman who looks like you have to go on a blind date?”

There was such astonishment in his voice that Sierra stopped at the head of the stairs. “Thank you. I think that’s a compliment.”

“You don’t have to thank me for speaking the truth. But blind dates can be dangerous. What do you know about this guy?”

Sierra smiled as she reached the first landing. “You sound like my sister Natalie. She’s a cop. And it isn’t just one guy I’m going to meet tonight. I’m going on a sort of group blind date. Have you ever heard of speed dating?”

“No.”

Sierra stepped out of the Whitman Building and cut across the quad in the direction of P Street. “It’s kind of like musical chairs. I’m going to meet and talk with a series of men. I get ten minutes with each one. Then someone blows a whistle and we each move on.”

“So you’ve got ten minutes to make your impression?”

“Yes.” Sierra gave the sky a wary glance.

“Sounds like you gotta judge a lot of books by their covers.”

“True. But this process eliminates much of the pressure of a regular blind date.”

“And you haven’t had to spend a whole evening with a dud as you might on a blind date.”

“Something like that.”

“Do you do this a lot?”

“This is my first time. I’ve observed the ritual as part of my research on a book I’m writing, and I’ve come up with a few questions to utilize the time efficiently. But I’m a little nervous.”

“Why don’t you practice on me?”

“What?” Sierra nearly stumbled as she turned onto P Street.

“You know. Give the questions a dry run. I’m stuck in a traffic jam that shows no sign of clearing, and I’ve got an alarm on my watch. Let me just set the time for ten minutes. There. No, wait. What kind of music do you like?”

Sierra couldn’t prevent a laugh. “What does that have to do with—?”

“I’m not there in person, so I want to set the mood. Just name your favorite kind of music.”

“You’re serious.”

“The seconds are ticking away. We only have nine and a half minutes left.”

“Okay. Okay. I like Bach.” This was ridiculous. When an oncoming pedestrian bumped her elbow, Sierra moved to the edge of the sidewalk, out of the stream of traffic.

“That’s it? Bach? I have to come up with Bach on a car radio?”

“No.” She grinned. “I also like Sinatra, Count Basie, the Beatles, the Beach—”

“Stop right there. The Beatles I can handle. They were having a retrospective on one of these stations. Hold on.”

Thunder rumbled overhead again, and Sierra edged closer to the wall of a building. It occurred to her that she was having a ridiculous conversation with a stranger she’d kissed in a bar, and she was enjoying it. The sound of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” thrummed in her ear.

“Can you hear it?”

Sierra very nearly giggled. “Yes.”

“Okay. I’m resetting my watch for the full ten minutes.”

Sierra glanced at her own watch. If she gave him the full amount of time, she ran the risk of being late.

“What do we do first?” he asked.

Sierra drew in a deep breath as she pulled out the blue card she’d written her notes on. “We introduce ourselves and shake hands. I’m Sierra Gibbs, and you’re…?”

“Ryder Kane.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t like my name.”

“No. That’s not it at all. I just remembered that I didn’t even know your name until now. But I do like it. It…suits you.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You don’t have to thank me for speaking the truth.”

His laugh began deep in his throat and blended into the building crescendo that the Beatles were providing in the background. “Touché. I like you, Dr. Gibbs.”

“I like you, too. I don’t understand it.” To her surprise, Sierra found herself relaxing and leaning against the wall. She didn’t understand that either. She hardly ever relaxed around men. The first raindrops fell, and a few stores down, a young woman gathered up the pieces of colored chalk her little girl had used to make a drawing on the sidewalk.

“No doubt, it’s my charm,” Ryder said.

Sierra giggled. “No doubt.” The raindrops began to fall harder, and she backed into the recessed doorway of a shop entrance where the owner had already put up a closed sign. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Well, that’s the purpose of a speed date, right? So do you like movies?”

“Love them.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I’m supposed to be asking the questions,” Sierra said.

“Humor me. I’m curious.”

“Casablanca.”

“That’s my favorite too. What’s number two on your list?”

“Raiders of the Lost Ark—the whole trilogy.”

“Good choice,” Ryder said. “George Lucas is a great filmmaker. He made my top ten. And you can’t beat those films for rip-roaring adventure. What’s in your number-three slot?”

“Hitchcock. Psycho, Rear Window, North by Northwest, To Catch a Thief.”

“That’s amazing. They’re all number two on my list. Now for the big question. Why do you love to watch movies?”

Sierra bit back a sigh. “That’s easy. I love movies because they allow me to do all the things that I can’t do in real life. How about you?”

“I like them because they end happily. That’s something that you can’t always get in real life either.”

“True. I’m a fan of happy endings too.”

“Seems we have something in common, Doc. What about books?”

“Is it my turn to ask questions yet?” Sierra asked dryly.

Ryder chuckled. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Sierra glanced down at her blue card. “If you were a musical instrument, which would you choose to be—a guitar, a keyboard or drums?”

“That’s easy. Depending on my mood, I’d be all three.”

A little arrow of heat shot through Sierra even as she turned over the card. According to her notes, a man who favored a guitar was not only very good with his fingers, but very attentive to details. A master at foreplay. The man who preferred a keyboard would also be clever with his hands and very skilled at improvising. He’d provide a lot of fun in bed. The drummer would be more demanding. And he’d provide earthy, down-and-dirty sex. As her knees went weak, Sierra leaned against the wall of the building. Was it possible for a man to embody all three styles of lovemaking?

“Earth to Sierra,” Ryder said. “How’d I do on that one?”

“Fi—” Sierra cleared her throat and tried again. “Fine. You did just fine.”

“So, tell me—what did you learn from that question?”

“Learn?” Thunder rumbled overhead and Sierra backed further into the shop entranceway.

“C’mon, Doc. This is some kind of psychological test, right? I say guitar and you slip me into a neat little category.”

Sierra blinked. Ryder Kane’s easy, laid-back manner hid a very sharp mind. “Sort of. Is that why you said you could be all three? Because you don’t like to be categorized?”

“Nope. I said all three because it’s the truth. Now it’s my turn. Which one of those instruments would you be?”

“You’re not supposed to ask that yet. I have more questions.”

“Aw, c’mon. Bend the rules, Doc. I’m curious. Would you be a guitar, a keyboard or a set of drums? Wait. Give me a minute. Let’s see if I can guess.”

Sierra glanced up from the note card and saw that the rain was pouring down in earnest now. Pedestrians were huddled beneath umbrellas and hurrying to their destinations, and traffic on the street had slowed. She really should go. Her plan had been to arrive at the Blue Pepper early enough to review her notes and run through her introduction in her head. But the urgency she usually felt about arriving early had washed away as easily as the traces of chalk on the sidewalk nearby.

“You’re definitely not drums,” he said.

“No.” Sierra nearly smiled at the idea. According to her notes, “drums” were aggressive, loved fast, hard sex and could last all night. She had no problem imagining Ryder Kane being all of those things. Doing all of those things. To her. The pImages** tumbling into her mind sent rays of electricity right to her core.

“I’m betting on the guitar over the keyboard,” he finally said. “But it’s a close call. Am I right?”

Sierra tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

“Are you still there, Doc?”

Sierra moistened lips that had gone as dry as her throat. “The truth is….” Pausing, she cleared her throat. “I have trouble imagining myself as any one of the three. Of course, I’m aware of what each instrument represents.”

“So it’s hard to give an unbiased answer.”

“Exactly.” Sierra found herself relaxing a bit. It occurred to her that she’d never felt this comfortable talking to a man before. On the street, rain was pouring down in sheets. Pedestrian traffic had cleared, and her position in the recessed entryway made her feel as if she were alone with Ryder.

“What are the three instruments an indication of?”

“They’re supposed to suggest what your style is as a lover.”

“Ah. Well, the only true way to discover what style a person has as a lover is to experience it. And even then, the person’s style might change depending on the two people involved and the particular moment.”

There was a pause while neither of them said anything, and the Beatles sang merrily about loving me, do.

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what particular style I’d like to use with you, Doc. You interested?”

More pImages** flashed through Sierra’s head—each one of them some variation of Ryder Kane, his naked limbs tangled with hers.

“I’ll take that as a yes. First, I’d want to kiss you again. You have the most amazing mouth, and I bet there are flavors that I haven’t yet discovered.”

Sierra pressed fingers to her lips.

“Then I’d want to touch you—all over—for a very long time. Your hair first. I wanted to run my hands through it the moment it came loose.”

An image formed in her mind of Ryder doing just that.

“Then there’s a spot right in the hollow of your throat where your skin is so delicate that I can see your pulse push against the skin. Touch it for me, Sierra.”

She already had. The frantic beat of it against her fingers sent ribbons of heat radiating through her entire body.

“And then I’d want to run my fingers over the skin right above your breasts and slowly around and beneath them. Do you like to have your breasts touched, Sierra?”

“I…you…” Words were eluding her, blocked out by the pImages** in her mind and the sensations streaming through her. But her answer seemed to satisfy him, because he went on. And on. And she went on imagining what it would feel like if he traced little patterns between her breasts and on her stomach.

She pressed her hand to her waist. Her body was on fire one second and icy the next. Then he was tracing patterns on the back of her knee, on the inside of her thigh.

She sighed as explosions of pleasure shot across her nerve endings. Her eyes closed. Her bones began to soften. In some far corner of her mind, she knew where she was and that an occasional person still passed by with an umbrella tipped against the pouring rain. But she was trapped by Ryder’s words in an alternate reality.

“And then, I’d have to touch you inside. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d have to slip my fingers inside you.”

It was a good thing that she was leaning against the door of the store because she felt dizzy. And the fire burning in her center had become so intense it was a wonder she didn’t melt.

“I’ve been fantasizing about what your eyes will look like when I make you climax.”

She was fantasizing, too, and Sierra felt herself slipping. In another few seconds, she would be sitting on the street. She struggled to get a grip.

“Imagine that my fingers are inside of you right now, Sierra. Can you feel them?”

She could imagine it all right, and the sensations that sprang from the image were so real that she couldn’t suppress a moan.

“I’m going to start moving them slowly—in and out. Can you feel that?”

She felt such heat—huge waves of it—and every muscle in her body was tightening, reaching for that promise of pleasure…. In an effort to remain standing, she pressed her legs tightly together.

“Would you like me to go deeper?”

“Yes.” She could almost feel the pressure of his fingers—right where the tension was coiled tightest at the center of her body. She wanted—no, she needed—to be touched right there, at that farthest point.

“I’m going deeper, Sierra.”

His voice was so low, and in response to the words, every muscle in her body strained toward the climax, which built and built until the release shot through her in one, long widening wave of pleasure that went on and on.

Reality trickled back in bits and pieces. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she was still standing, thanks to the solid door at her back. She felt…weak, but…wonderful.

A car honked on the street. Another answered, and then a third. Sierra opened her eyes to see a man roll down the window of his car and wave a fist in the air at the vehicle in front of him. “You idiot!”

The man in the car blocking the intersection opened his window and made a rude gesture.

As the discussion on the street increased in volume, Sierra became very much aware of her surroundings. She was standing in the doorway of a shop in the middle of Georgetown and she’d just…

“Sierra?”

She’d just…he’d just… Some of the heat in her body flooded her cheeks. “You…I…we just had phone sex.”

“Just trying to make the most efficient use of my ten minutes. How’d I do?”

Phone sex. She’d never in her life done anything quite that…wild before. And it certainly hadn’t been in her five-step plan. But then she’d known that this man would be hard to follow a plan with. And there was a part of her that had enjoyed every minute of it.

She wanted to laugh. “You’re…” She paused to search for the right word.

Just then, she heard an alarm sound.

“Our time’s up. As a speed date, how would you rate me, Doc? And remember that I have a very fragile ego.”

“Right. I’ll bet it’s about as fragile as a steel-rein-forced door.”

Ryder laughed. “Good one. If you were here, you could see me pulling the imaginary arrow out of my heart.”

As the picture formed in her mind, she smiled—until she glanced down at the blue card she’d dropped. Stooping to snatch it up, she said, “I really do have to go.”

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