Slanting his mouth over hers in a smooth glide, deliberately light and teasing, he offered a kiss that hinted and lured rather than taking outright.

Cali shuddered, her breath slipping over his lips with a soft moan. He pulled back to meet her gaze. “That good, huh?”

Her lips curved as she drank him in through half-lidded eyes. “I’d forgotten just how good that felt.” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the sexy swell of her pink bottom lip.

“Wasn’t much of a kiss, if you ask me,” he murmured. “I can do better.”

Her eyes darkened like smoked sea glass and locked on his mouth, sending “go” signals toward his groin. Her breath hitched as, moving closer, he traced the smooth line of her delicate jaw with his thumb, sifted his fingers through the silky hair at the nape of her neck, and tilted her face to his.

“Maybe just one more,” she whispered breathlessly, her lips an enticing invitation.

“One more,” he agreed, intent on doling out a kiss with every skill and seductive nuance he’d honed since high school packed into it. And that kiss would become the prelude to a night in bed.

Dear Reader

Have you ever had a connection to a place that neither time nor distance could sever?

I have. Chicago.

It’s the city of my youthful heart and romantic memories. It’s where I grew up, became a woman, and learned to love. When I began writing WILD FLING OR A WEDDING RING? I found myself mentally walking the streets, dropping by old haunts, and picking out all that I loved about the city to give to my heroine, Cali, to discover.

In the end this book became a bit of a love letter to Chicago, and I hope I’ll be able to share some of what makes this city so special to me with you.

Do you have a city that’s stolen your heart? If so, drop by my website at www.miralynkelly.com and share your stories.

Mira

Wild Fling or A Wedding Ring?

By

Mira Lyn Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Mira Lyn Kelly grew up in the Chicago area, and earned her degree in Fine Arts from Loyola University. She met the love of her life while studying abroad in Rome, Italy, only to discover he’d been living right around the corner from her for the previous two years. Having spent her twenties working and playing in the Windy City, she’s now settled with her husband in rural Minnesota, where their four beautiful children provide an excess of action, adventure and entertainment.

With writing as her passion, and inspiration striking at the most unpredictable times, Mira can always be found with a notebook at the ready. (More than once she’s been caught by the neighbours, covered in grass clippings, scribbling away atop the compost container!)

When she isn’t reading, writing, or running to keep up with the kids, she loves watching movies, blabbing with the girls, and cooking with her husband and friends. Check out her website www.miralynkelly.com for the latest dish!

This is Mira’s first book!

MILLS & BOON

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To my husband, Chris. I love you.

CHAPTER ONE

STYLED in 1930s décor, the Jazz House was an inconspicuous place, classy and understated, tucked into a quiet corner of Chicago’s downtown Streeterville neighborhood. Smoky melodies, thick with heartbreak and yearning, drifted through the dark club, curling around hushed conversations and seeping beneath the tensions of the day.

Seated toward the back of the high-polish bar, Calista McGovern swirled rough chunks of ice in her gin and tonic, savoring the pull of blue notes at her soul. This was a place she could get used to.

That was it would be, if the next two months weren’t committed to an assignment that left little chance of Cali seeing the light of day—or even the dark of night for that matter—before it ended. She was Project Manager for the multibillion-dollar retail conglomerate MetroTrek, and her stint in the Windy City guaranteed long hours under the steady hum of fluorescent lights, broken only by meals on the run and the necessity to sleep.

Chicago was about work. It was a stepping stone to the new London expansion position her New York-based boss, Amanda Martin, had all but promised her—if she could nail the Chicago job first. It was the opportunity Cali had been waiting for.

Her plane had touched down on the O’Hare tarmac three hours before. She would have been elbow-deep in work already if it hadn’t been for Amanda’s insistence that she spend her first night in Chicago out on the town. And, more specifically, at this club.

As a rule, Cali wasn’t much of a suck-up, but with the London position hovering on the horizon—the restoration of a career she’d nearly destroyed all but complete—catering to her boss’s whims seemed a reasonable accommodation.

Amanda had discovered the club through her little sister’s husband, Jackson, last time she’d been home for a visit, and hadn’t stopped talking about it since. Normally mention of anything associated with the beloved brother-in-law earned a mental eye-roll from Cali. As Amanda told it—often in excruciating detail—Jackson could do no wrong. As Cali heard it, Amanda harbored some deep-seated crush on the guy, and any opinion even remotely tied to him should be taken with a grain of salt.

Tonight, however, Cali had to give the man credit. The Jazz House was perfect, with precisely the kind of subdued atmosphere she appreciated. Or at least it was until a guy looking to be in his mid-forties pushed onto an empty stool beside her and let out a labored breath as he rubbed a bloodshot eye with the back of his thumb.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Jake Tyler rested one shoulder against the wall, his attention locked on the woman at the bar. From the minute he’d seen her shake that spill of sexy red-brown curls across her shoulders he’d been struck immobile. He’d watched her face relax and her lips curve as she listened to the music, enjoyed the way her skirt rode over her thigh as she crossed her long, smooth legs, and wondered what it would be like to touch her. Take her home and lose himself in her body.

But picking up company wasn’t part of the plan. He’d come to unwind, as he often did after too many hours in the operating room. To let the smooth jazz ease the strain in his muscles and his mind before heading home to get some much needed sleep.

So he’d tried to focus on the music instead of the pretty girl at the bar, and he’d done an almost passable job of it—right up to when the chump running on one drink too many moved in.

Now the woman with the siren hair and soft smile was unsuccessfully trying to brush off the persistent nuisance who wanted to play the “don’t I know you from somewhere” game.

It was a cheap line, so overdone it should be stricken from the pick-up playbook forever. But some guys never learned. And some women deserved a break. Which was why, when the guy moved in again, Jake pushed off the wall and crossed to the bar.

A thick cloud of cologne, laced with sweat and whiskey, wafted around her as the man hunched closer. Cali set her glass down and reached for her purse.

This stank. The music was fantastic, but she couldn’t shake her barfly, which meant it was time to leave.

“You’re alone.” The slurred voice dropped meaningfully. “I’m alone—”

“Hey, babe.” A rich, deep baritone cut in, sliding like a smooth caress down her spine, saving her from whatever promise or threat of mutual satisfaction Whiskey Breath was selling. The body that issued it dropped into the open seat on her left, and when his warm, wide hand settled over hers she jumped, awareness churning within her. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Work ran late.”

“What—?” was all she managed, before her first look at the stranger beside her stole her breath. Piercing blue eyes pinned her to her spot, while a smile as sexy as sin held her rapt.

Dangerous.

Next to this guy, Mr. Whiskey was nothing. She should push away from the bar, grab her clutch and leave without looking back.

That was what she should do.

Definitely.

Sensual lips, full and wide, cocked up to one side, and before she’d even thought, the words left her lips. “Hi…babe.”

Her gaze dragged over the near-hypnotic proportions of her barside savior, as he followed the other man’s grudging retreat with his eyes. He was huge, easily six-four, built with a tapered physique that left her mouth watering and the rest of her body on high alert. The thin black knit of his summerweight V-neck clung, emphasizing his broad shoulders, defined pecs and flat abs. This was the kind of man she never let her herself notice, only this one…

Well, he was a modern-day knight in pricey denim, rescuing a damsel in distress from a whiskey-breathing barfly. He was her hero and, try as she might not to notice, she wasn’t dead.

He shot her a disarming smile. “Sorry about the ‘babe’ business, but it had the necessary possessive ring to it, don’t you think?”

He had an incredible voice.

Fighting the urge to titter with nervous laughter, she answered, “Very effective. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, wishing her head would clear as well. She was a grown woman, and this wasn’t the first attractive man who’d ever spoken to her—though he was easily the most attractive. The lean, chiseled lines of his cheekbones and the ruthless cut of his jaw and nose were masculine, sexy. Blending outdoor sportsman and tuxedo-fine in seamless perfection. The thick silk of his dark hair, clipped short on the sides and long enough to wave in rumpled disarray on top, had her fingers itching to tangle in it.

Definitely dangerous.

He angled closer, an alluring violation of her personal space, and offered his hand with a gruff introduction. “Jake Tyler.”

“Cali—but, umm, I should get going.”

He turned to face her, those blue eyes filled with censure. “After I got rid of your friend? The least you can do to thank me is stay and listen to the music, like you were trying to do before he interrupted.”

So he’d been watching her. Boy, she didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to like it. Slanting a look his way, she tried to size up the threat he made.

He met her stare and held it for a beat. “You seemed to be enjoying the band.” He shrugged and glanced over to where the bartender had set down his order.

The long muscles running the length of his spine, visible through the hug of his sweater, flexed and shifted as he rested one arm on the bar to reach for his drink.

“I like jazz. I like it when others like it, too. The guy seemed to be getting in the way, so I helped him out. That’s all. You and I, we can just sit here and listen together. Ignore each other completely. In fact…” he leaned back slightly, eyes focused now on the front of the club “…I’ve forgotten about you already.”

She stared, and then a ripple of amusement broke loose from the anxiety-tightened confines of her chest. His reverse psychology teasing should have sent her fleeing for the nearest cab, only it had sent butterflies flitting around her belly instead.

Temptingly dangerous.

She cocked her brow at him, feigning surprise. “Are you still here?”

The low rumble of his answering laughter had a seductive quality she couldn’t resist, and then she was laughing too, swearing to herself it was only a momentary indulgence.

“Fine,” he drawled, luring her attention to the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Since you’re so desperately chatty, I’ll talk to you.”

A stuttering cough escaped her as she tried to muster any emotion other than delight. “I beg your pardon?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “No need to beg. So, what do you think? Should we talk about work?”

He was good. Smooth. Exactly the kind of distraction she didn’t need on the first day of the most important assignment since the reinvention of her career. She didn’t have room in her life for a man. She should run, she thought, firmly planted in her spot.

But, she’d run every other time a man threw a decent line or a flashy smile her way over the last three years. She’d tolerated no distractions and it had worked. She’d gotten herself where she wanted to go.

Only tonight she didn’t want to run.

Maybe it was the music, or the club, or the high she was riding being so close to her goal. Or maybe she just wanted to remember what it felt like to have a gorgeous man trying for her smile. After all, it wasn’t as though this Jake Tyler was asking her to dump her career to be with him. He was just a sexy bit of sporting flirtation. Harmless. Fun. A guy she’d never see again and couldn’t affect her future one iota.

But talking about work? No way. Work was all tied up, with her every hope, dream and ambition wrapped around it—and her biggest mistake behind it.

No. Her career was just for her. Much too intimate for sharing with a sporting flirtation.

Cali took a sip of her drink. Brushed at the drops of condensation with her thumb. “Let’s skip work. I’ll be up to my ears in it for the next few months. This is the last night of calm before I lose my life and identity to the job completely.”

“Ah, you’re a spy, then,” he offered, with an understanding nod and a devastating grin. “Me too.”

Two hours later Jake sat back, enjoying the full-bodied, free sound of Cali’s laughter as her head tilted back, her eyes closed. It was a sound as enticing as any he’d ever heard, and he’d been working all evening to earn more of it. Now, as her laughter eased into a sigh, her smile became hesitant. She pushed a loose curl behind her ear and turned to him.

Damn, she was gorgeous.

He wanted her. And, with the way her heavy-lidded stare kept slipping to his mouth, she wanted him too.

Long, sooty lashes swept her cheekbones and then lifted as her green eyes sparkled under the glittering bar-lights. The errant curl fell forward again, and this time restraint was beyond him. Reaching out, Jake caught the silky strands between his fingers and tucked them gently behind her ear. The slight contact sent lust roiling through his system as a shudder racked Cali’s form. The muscles along her throat moved up and down, and her teeth set into her lush bottom lip, driving the breath out of his lungs. She didn’t know what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did, and that was okay too.

Her gaze flitted back to his, uncertain and suddenly wary.

Hell. What was he doing? He had no business putting a move on a woman like her. She was sweet and sexy and a little bit shy. She wasn’t the kind of woman you picked up for a night, or even a week’s worth of nights, which was about the extent of what a guy like him had to offer.

“Jake,” she half whispered, her voice barely audible above the sultry jazz pouring over them. “I’m not—When we started talking you were so funny and charming…I just figured a little flirting might be fun. I didn’t mean for it to go anywhere. But you’re so easy to talk to and I got carried away.” Her gaze shifted off to the corner. “I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t really…”

Cali turned aside, though he’d already seen the pretty blush that broke out across her cheekbones. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, he drew her gaze back to his.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I know how to enjoy good conversation and a little flirting without it having to go back to a bedroom.” Getting shut down really shouldn’t have felt like a relief, but the way their small talk had wound its way into something deeper, more meaningful…

He liked her. And that was the problem. Jake didn’t do meaningful.

She peered up at him through those dark lashes and his head began to spin. “It’s just that maybe—”

A persistent vibration at his hip drew his attention from the woman in front of him to matters of life and death. “Hold that thought.” With a reluctant shake of his head he pulled the phone from his pocket. “I’m sorry. This is the hospital. I’ve got to call in and check on a patient. Give me five minutes?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Cali watched as Jake made his way toward the back hall of the club, where a sign for the restrooms hung above the arched doorway. She needed to get out of there. Like, an hour ago. Her own stupidity was beyond belief. If Jake’s phone hadn’t interrupted—She didn’t want to think about the words that had nearly sprinted off the tip of her tongue. The invitation—agh!

This man was beautiful in a cut-from-granite, his-maker-must-have-been-an-artist kind of way, and his physique alone was screwing with her head. What had begun as sporting flirtation had spiraled completely out of control into something more compelling than she was prepared to defend herself against.

It must be some kind of pheromone thing.

Definitely.

It was the clean, spicy scent of him drugging her senses that had her thinking in bad pick-up lines about a man she shouldn’t have looked twice at. Let alone fallen into deep, lengthy, satisfying conversation with.

Cali sighed.

Just her bad luck he was interesting too. Intelligent and sharp, funny and thoughtful. Captivating in both mind and body. Far more dangerous than she’d realized.

She pushed her glass back on the bar and, clutching her purse, stood up. If she were smart, she’d haul it out of the club and straight into a cab before Jake got back. But that kind of insulting behavior wasn’t in her. She’d run to the Ladies’ Room and when she returned she’d thank him for a wonderful evening and leave. No exchange of phone numbers. No plans. A clear-cut goodbye.

Simple.

Only as she followed the series of switchbacks through the back hall of the club—past the Men’s Room, then a door to the stage, and further on to the Ladies’ Room—images of an easy smile and flashes of fathomless blue eyes began to chip at her resolve. At the end of the hall a sign glowed in neon blue for a phone, with an arrow pointing around the corner. Jake was probably down there and, for an instant, Cali considered following.

One night.

Really, what was the harm if she never saw him again? She’d been so very good, for so very long. Totally focused on work, completely dedicated…

Her gaze drifted down to the end of the hall, her body rebelling against her mind, until finally she pushed open the Ladies’ Room door and stepped inside to splash some cold water on her face and some sense into her head.

CHAPTER TWO

IN the relatively quiet back hall of the club, Jake ended the call about his bypass patient from that afternoon. Heading toward the main bar, he flipped the phone closed and glanced down as he pushed it into his pocket.

A slice of white light pierced the shadows just as Cali stepped out of the ladies’ lounge and straight into his stride.

“Aack!” came her surprised yelp as their legs tangled together.

“Easy, I’ve got you,” he assured her, catching her against him with one arm around her waist, the other braced at the wall.

Her palms covered his chest; her breasts and belly pressed against him so he could feel the rise and fall of her every tempting breath. One of them should have stepped away—put the distance back between them—but neither moved. Her gaze touched on his, hungry and aware, before drifting down to his mouth and holding as her lips parted on a trembling sigh. The air went thick with tension, and need surged to life, pumping hot through his veins, stifling reason.

The lounge door swung closed behind them, dropping the narrow hall into semi-darkness. It was intimate and secluded, and he wanted her. Every muscle tightened throughout his body, straining to take her. He wouldn’t, but, watching the desperate flutter of her pulse at the hollow of her throat, he couldn’t make himself step away either.

A tiny furrow etched between her brows as a single word pushed through her lips. “Don’t.”

Only Jake hadn’t moved, hadn’t given in. He was still holding himself in unrelenting check as he realized Cali hadn’t been speaking to him, but to herself.

“Cali,” he warned, something predatory responding to her weakening resolve. If she wanted to stop this, she’d have to tell him no. Only she didn’t say anything. Didn’t push him back. Instead her fingers curled into his sweater, her breath pulled ragged from her chest and the indecision faded from her eyes, taking his every good intention with it.

Cali’s body shifted, soft and tempting against him in torturous slow motion, as she rose up on her toes and whispered, “Just one,” before pressing her lips to his.

Sure, he thought, fighting a smile. No matter how good the intention, one would never be enough.

Slanting his mouth over hers in a smooth glide, deliberately light and teasing, he offered a kiss that hinted and lured, rather than taking outright.

Cali shuddered, her breath slipping over his lips with a soft moan that left every muscle in his body tensing, straining for more—but he could wait, because he knew it wouldn’t be long. Splaying one hand against the base of her spine, he cupped her cheek with the other and pulled back to meet her gaze. “That good, huh?”

Her lips curved as she drank him in through half-lidded eyes. “I’d forgotten just how good that felt.” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the sexy swell of her pink bottom lip. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve been kissed.”

Hell. He didn’t want to think of her as vulnerable. Didn’t want to like it. Not when that kind of knowledge, coupled with the husky quality her voice, was doing strange things to his ego, drawing out some inner need that damn near demanded he show her just what she’d been missing.

“Wasn’t much of a kiss, if you ask me,” he murmured. “I can do better.”

Her eyes darkened like smoked sea glass and locked on his mouth, sending “go” signals toward his groin. Her breath hitched as, moving closer, he traced the smooth line of her delicate jaw with his thumb, sifted his fingers through the silky hair at the nape of her neck, and tilted her face to his.

“Maybe just one more,” she whispered breathlessly, her lips an enticing invitation.

“One more,” he agreed, intent on doling out a kiss with every skill and seductive nuance he’d honed since high school packed into it. And that kiss would become the prelude to a night in bed.

Jake’s mouth descended on her yielding softness, sinking with a slow, steady build. A light back-and-forth rub. A gentle, parting pressure as his tongue sought the barest taste. She was warm and wet and teasing, fresh and inviting, and as her sultry sigh feathered against his mouth his smug satisfaction gave way to a rising need.

Her breathy gasps called like a plea for more and, angling his head to take control, he plunged his tongue between her lips. Lithe arms slipped around his neck and, delving into the warm depths of her mouth, he stroked in a wet velvet rub against her teeth, tongue and lips, thrusting and retreating in an erotic, suggestive rhythm.

Cali responded, clasping her arms tighter, molding her firm breasts and flat belly against his hips and chest.

Urgency ripped through him. His hand fisted in the fabric at the waist of her skirt and she moaned around his plundering tongue, a quiet, mewling sound that nearly had him yanking her skirt above her hips. Shocked by his own response, he tore away from the heated embrace. Stared down into Cali’s flushed face.

He wanted her naked and beneath him the next time she made that sound.

Forcing the words out, he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Breathless, she peered up at him, agony in her eyes. “I can’t. I—Couldn’t we—?” Her smoky gaze fixed on his mouth as the tightening in his gut became painful. “Just one minute more?”

The way her eyes went all warm and soft and needy—he’d have given her anything she asked for at that moment. He wanted to be inside her, but this gorgeous girl who hadn’t been kissed for so long didn’t want it to go that way. Hell, the strain of a few more minutes probably wouldn’t kill him. And even if they did, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, hauling her up against him so her feet lifted from the floor. He maneuvered them around the corner, to where the hinged door of the phone booth provided a modicum of privacy. Pulling her into the booth, barely large enough for them to stand side by side, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Just one more minute.”

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as she pulled him back to her. “Thank God.”

Cali was a woman possessed. It couldn’t go further than this. She was treading on dangerous ground as it was, but, heaven help her, she couldn’t give up the decadence of this stolen moment.

It might have been three years since she’d last been kissed, but she could say with all certainty she’d never in her life had a lip-lock like this one. A mind-numbing, moral-melting mainline into pleasure. His taste, touch and scent thrummed through her veins, so quickly and so thoroughly addictive the idea of breaking free was physically painful, mentally incomprehensible.

What harm could come from just a few more innocuous minutes of indulgence?

Strong hands ran in a crisscross down her back, until one wide palm pressed over her bottom, pulling her into closer contact with the hard contours of his body.

How could anything feel so right?

Grabbing her thighs, he hoisted her up. Her skirt bunched as her legs wrapped around his hips. Her shoulders braced against the wall as he rocked against that throbbing, long-neglected spot of need. Fingers of sensation stroked through her middle, tugging the strings of desire dangerously taut.

It was good. Too good to give up so fast. Just another minute like this and she’d stop. Leave. Run. But not yet.

“Oh, God!” she gasped when his hips ground forward again, rasping rough denim and damp lace against her achy sex.

Some distant part of her mind screamed a frantic warning.

She had rules about this sort of thing.

But their position was too perfect, the contact just right, and she was halfway to satisfaction already.

Jake’s mouth tore free from her lips, his blue flame gaze searing over her as his breath punched free in ragged bursts. “Tell me to stop,” he gritted out, his hips moving in a steady rhythm so good she couldn’t have told him to stop if her life had depended on it.

On some level she knew he was right. One of them was going to have to come to their senses, and instinctively she understood the burden fell on her shoulders. But why the hell did it always have to be the girl?

As exciting and amazing as it was, they were in a bar.

In a phone booth.

Her eyes blinked open, her gaze flitting over the small confines of their space.

A phone booth with a wooden shuttered and hinged door that ran almost floor to ceiling.

A phone booth at the farthest end of a scarcely traveled, dimly lit switchback hallway. With Jake’s broad, powerful back a further shield against any prying eyes should someone actually venture this far.

She’d never see this man again. No one would ever know.

Jake’s lean male hips ground forward again, his head bowed and his lips pulled at the vulnerable skin beneath her ear, shredding her resolve.

And then all she could think was that they were alone. With the female singer’s smooth molasses voice pouring over them from the speakers above, and the space around them fading into nothing more than a hazy backdrop for this single stolen moment. His teeth grazed the column of her neck, and one hand caught her wrist to pin it at the wall beside her head. Her body seized; her mind blanked of anything beyond giving in.

She clutched at him with her knees. Rocked her hips to meet his and desperately sought his mouth with her own. Lips fused together, their tongues tangled, mated, and merged. Their mouths were completing the act clothing barely restricted lower on their bodies. So intimate. She could taste him. Feel him thrusting and licking inside her.

She could wrap herself in his strength. Lose herself in his control.

And then he stopped, held her still as she teetered at the brink of a precipice she couldn’t believe she’d been brought to. Her breath fired in moist bursts between them as tension gripped her with stunning intensity, leaving her helpless, desperate, shaking with need.

“Jake.” The plea in that single husky word was unmistakable, and she felt his answering smile curl against her ravaged mouth. Oh, yes.

“Come for me.” His low growl stroked like a vibration deep through her body and soul, curling around the tender spot between her legs just as he rocked again, letting her ride the steely length of him in one long, brutal caress that unlocked her every inhibition.

Spasms of hot pleasure lanced her core, relentless and intense. Stealing her breath through each ratcheting increment until at last it burst free with her shuddering release. Jake caught her fleeting cries with his kiss, held her steady in his arms as her body melted against him. Seconds ticked by as she floated in blissful oblivion. Then slowly her mind cleared and reality descended with the resounding thud of Jake’s back hitting the phone behind him.

Cali’s eyes blinked open.

A bar.

A phone booth, for heaven’s sake!

A stranger.

No. Of all the wrongs piled into one grotesquely cheap heap in Cali’s mind, Jake Tyler wasn’t one of them. She might have met him only hours ago, but something about the man spoke to her on a level she couldn’t deny. He was the kind of guy she could fall for—if she were in the market for falling. Which she wasn’t.

Jake’s brow, damp from restraint or exertion, or possibly a combination of the two, pressed against hers as he stood, eyes closed, shaking his head. “I feel like a teenager.” He didn’t sound upset so much as stunned.

She smiled her understanding—not that she’d actually ever done anything even remotely like this when she was in high school, but she would have liked to. “I think you had more fun as a teen than I did.”

Jake chuckled, that low and sexy sound that made her wonder if maybe—

No. Tonight was an exception.

A brief foray into fantasy. A depraved one-night indulgence she was certain she should already want to forget. Only it had been too good to forget. And, with her work cut out for her with MetroTrek, the memory of this night would probably have to keep her warm for the next few years at least.

Seeing how completely Jake affected her was reason enough to keep her libido in check and an incentive to make a hasty exit. Though not too hasty, because she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

She was grateful, all right. Was she ever!

But Jake—Well, neither exchanging numbers nor getting busted for lewd behavior in the back of a bar held much allure for her. It was extraction time from this sticky situation. The man who had so generously withheld his own release, and now ran his big sexy hands over her hips to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt, needed to become a fond memory she’d never have to see again.

She didn’t know what to say, how to get out of the phone booth and back to her life. “Um, thank you. That was—”

“A better kiss?” he asked, flashing the easy smile that had gotten her into this situation in the first place.

“You’re a charmer.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Yeah, and you’re standing on my foot.”

Cali jerked back, coming up short against the booth wall, before righting herself with the help of Jake’s hand at her waist. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem, but we should probably get out of this booth before some schmuck’s phone battery dies and our luck runs out.”

She glanced up at the ceiling, feeling the flush of embarrassment heating her cheeks. “Flee the scene of the crime and all?”

Jake caught her chin with a crook of his finger and tilted her face to look at him. “I’ll take you home so we can do this right.” His gaze held steady, intense and hungry.

Her breath hitched at the thought of what he could do on a bed, if given the chance.

“Jake, I can’t have a relationship.”

He shook his head, letting out an ironic laugh. “And, trust me, I can’t give you one. But tonight…I could give you tonight.”

Just one night?

A quiet ping sounded from the floor, piercing the lustinduced fog of her brain. Oh, no, it was a message alert from her phone. The phone so carelessly dumped with her clutch on the floor when her hormones had skidded out of control on a collision course with Jake.

Her link to Amanda, to her job, to her future, was a hair’s breadth from being trampled! A few hours with this man and her focus was shot. What if she gave him a full night? She already knew the answer to that. It wouldn’t be enough. With a man like Jake she would want more.

She kicked the small bag out of the booth toward the safety of the abandoned hall, and then, forcing the air from her lungs, pulled free of his gentle hold and voiced the words that would hurt to say. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Jake’s brows drew down, his features hardening as he inched back to let her pass. “Cali, wait—hold on.”

She shook her head, scooping up the bag with her phone and holding them close to her chest. “I wish—” But that wouldn’t do any good. Pinching her lips between her teeth, still tasting him on her tongue, she shook her head and ran from the club as if temptation itself was on her heels.

CHAPTER THREE

AWARENESS crept in, staking daylight’s claim over her consciousness, shooing away the hazy bliss of midnight’s oblivion. Within her hotel room, Cali fixed her gaze on the ceiling above her.

She’d done it in a phone booth. Almost.

In the deserted back hall of a jazz club.

With a man she’d just met.

It was totally a one-night stand.

Okay, so she hadn’t had actual sex. A technicality. They’d been standing. And it had been one night. One incredible night, topped off with an incredible kiss that flamed so far out of control it had passed X-rated—and by the time it finished, so had she.

Wow. It definitely counted.

A one-night stand. Something “good girls” were supposed to regret. Not wake the next day feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and all around delighted to have cast their morals aside.

The “morning after” was supposed to be a miserable, hollow, shame-ridden experience. She’d heard it from a variety of reliable sources. But by the time she’d found her shoulders braced against the wall of the tiny phone booth, with Jake’s kiss coursing through her veins, she’d been more than willing to accept the consequences.

Only now, snuggled into her so recently sated skin, Cali couldn’t seem to muster even a smidgeon of remorse. Maybe she’d get there someday, but as of this glorious morning Jake Tyler had been the best exception to a rule she’d ever made.

After a three-year self-imposed dry spell, he’d been just the kind of no promises, no risks, no regrets tall-glass-ofwater Cali hadn’t even realized she’d been thirsting for. And now, quenched as she was, she could take on the Chicago assignment and knock the ball right out of Wrigley Field.

Finding a spot of too-cool sheets, she curled into herself, pulling the heavenly comforter tight and letting her mind slip back to the night before. To the deep blue-eyed gaze that had kept her pinned to her seat for hours longer than she’d planned to stay out. The warm, easy laugh that had slipped past her defenses and sent unexpected heat swirling low in her belly.

That rapturous kiss.

God, his mouth was phenomenal.

And the rest. Yum.

Still staring at the ceiling, Cali let out a wistful sigh.

No-harm recreation at its best. The one-night distraction by tall, dark and devastating had been sensational.

She should be ashamed, but couldn’t quite summon the energy for it. She’d never see him again. There was zero chance of this man ruining her career. It was bittersweet perfection.

At least it would be if she could forget the look on his face when she’d run like a fool from the club.

Flopping the comforter back with a groan, she emerged from her warm cocoon.

Shake it off.

A quick glance at the clock told her Amanda’s beloved brother-in-law was due within the hour, to take her over to her new place.

Her teeth set as she blew out a steady breath. Time to shift gears and get moving.

Stepping into the shower, she hoped the hot spray and lemon-sage lather of shampoo would wash her mind clean of all things Jake—there wasn’t time to get caught up in a crush, no matter how gorgeous or funny or intelligent—No! The man’s pure perfection stemmed from the fact that he’d been little more than a ship passing in the night.

Wait, not a ship. A sleek, sexy speed boat, whose wake had rocked her world.

Sure. Just one kiss. What was the harm in one tiny kiss after three years of going without?

Ha. Well, now she knew.

There would be no forgetting him.

She toweled off, with images of glinting eyes and a hardplaned chest pressed against her teasing her resolve. Ponderings of how different her life might have been if she’d been with a man like Jake three years ago in Boston instead of with Erik.

That was nonsense. When Jake had asked to take her home, she’d fled from the man. Imagining him in her life in any capacity other than as the exciting one-night spectacular exception he’d been was crazy. She wouldn’t. Definitely not. No matter how much he’d made her laugh. Want.

Agitated, she jammed her legs into a pair of jeans, then pulled a periwinkle and white halter over her head. As if in accordance with her mood, her curls had gone particularly wild that morning, requiring that she gather them at the nape of her neck with a leather tie. A dab of lipgloss and done. Satisfied with her look, she was just tossing back a glass of water when three hard knocks sounded at the hotel door.

A smile broke out across her face as excitement welled within her. Forget about blue-eyed bar heroes. On the other side of that door was Amanda’s brother-in-law, Jackson, here to deliver her to the rest of her life—or at least to the sublet where she’d live while she worked her butt off nailing this job for Amanda. It was go-time.

Barefoot, glass in hand, she darted over to the door and pulled it open wide. “Hey, give me one minute…”

The rest of her words died on her tongue as she gasped at the sight of Jake Tyler, casual in worn denim and a cuffed button-down, leaning with one arm braced against the frame of her door.

His brow drew down as his darkening eyes took her in. “You?”

Cali stood immobile, dread hollowing the pit of her stomach. It was a mistake. It couldn’t be what it looked like—Jake wasn’t Jackson.

Oh, God. Her boss’s little sister’s husband. Lying about his name while he scored in a bar!

No!

Breath ratcheting, she staggered back.

She could not have screwed up again. Not this quickly; not this royally! Maybe she was wrong and this was some kind of happy misunderstanding. Maybe Jake was just some sick stalker, bent on creeping her out with his ability to track her. Maybe he wasn’t her boss’s brother-in-law after all.

Let it be true, she prayed, willing to offer him a pair of her panties, or whatever insane keepsake he wanted, so long as he didn’t confirm that she’d been swapping spit with the married man her boss secretly coveted.

“Jackson?” she whispered, clinging to the hope that he’d shake his head and deny it, come after her with a knife instead.

The corner of a mouth she’d had her lips all over turned up the slightest degree. “No one calls me Jackson but Amanda and my mother.”

No apologies, no denials, no miraculous explanation proving she hadn’t blown everything before she’d even gotten through the gate. Just that calmly assessing gaze, smug and secure. Amused, even. What could he possibly find amusing about this situation?

The backs of her knees collided with the low coffee table behind her before she realized she was still retreating—and momentum kept her going.

“Aiyee!” Her arms flailed, then she shot one out to catch herself. Instead, the glass in her hand broke the fall, crushed in her palm as her rear-end smacked down.

Glass shards glittered pink as they drowned in the rising wash of blood at her wrist. “Ungg…” she moaned. “Cut myself…” Jake’s guttural curse registered vaguely as he appeared, crouching at her side. The room dimmed, tilting, and distorted images began playing before her eyes.

Of course it wasn’t her life flashing there—she wasn’t dying. Merely fainting from the sight of her own blood. No, the images she saw were a series of memories, bar-side snapshots, leading to her latest life-shattering, career-flushing mistake.

“Ah, hell.” Jake muttered, quickly assessing the injury. “Not too bad, but we need to get the glass out.”

Cali let out a sick moan. As his focus shot to her paling face, and her eyes fixed on the blood oozing down her arm, he knew without question what was next. “No. Don’t look at it, sweetheart…No—no, don’t—” Too late. Her eyes rolled back, her face went slack, and her body crumpled against him. Great.

This just got better and better.

The last thing he’d expected as he knocked on the hotel room door was for the incredible woman who’d run out on him the night before to open it. But once it had happened, and he’d seen who she was—connecting Cali to Calista—he’d indulged in a momentary fantasy about picking things up where they’d left off.

Obviously he was going to have to forget about that ego-driven idiocy, because Cali clearly hadn’t been thinking the same thing. In those first seconds she’d looked more like she wanted to skin him than screw him, so it was safe to assume she was annoyed to discover he wasn’t just some stranger who’d gotten her off and then conveniently faded into the mist. And that didn’t jibe with the image he’d constructed from the night before. Which was just irritating. She’d been soft. Funny. Sweet. And a little bit shy, blushing at her own interest.

He’d spent hours lost in her laughter.

He was an idiot.

He did not want a relationship. And he did not date—even in his über-casual capacity—women connected to his family. Ever. They came with too many strings that were too hard to sever, and he wasn’t interested in the complications. So why should it matter if Cali wasn’t exactly who he’d thought the night before? If what had happened wasn’t quite as special as he’d thought?

It shouldn’t—didn’t.

And special? What was he? Twelve? They’d been in a phone booth, for God’s sake.

But she was now crumpled in his arms, and he did care about getting her cleaned up and back on her feet. Pulling her into his chest, he banded one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, then swept her up.

“Cali? Calista, sweetheart?”

Dodging the low-profile furniture in the suite, he crossed to the bathroom and sat with her tucked into his lap, her arm elevated, head lolling against his chest as she struggled to come around.

“Hey,” he whispered into the top of her hair. “Don’t watch—just look up at me or keep your eyes closed while I wash this out.”

But in the mirror’s reflection he saw her eyes on the sink, where the water was tinged with red as he ran the tap over her arm…and she was out again. The cuts were shallow and didn’t require stitches, so he finished up, then carried her to the bed. He laid Cali back, using a towel to protect the rumpled spread.

Blood rose slowly on her cuts—but it was nothing a few Band-Aids wouldn’t take care of. At the very least they’d cover enough to keep Cali conscious. He returned to the bathroom and, with only mild guilt, began riffling through her bags. In his experience women traveled with enough toiletries to perform a double bypass, so Band-Aids were a sure bet.

In addition to a selection of cosmetics, brushes, sprays, gels and creams, he noted the slim case of her birth control pills, a pack of breath mints, mouthwash, floss and, in one stiff zippered plastic compartment, a single condom with a label he hadn’t seen since med school. The expiration date had passed the year before.

Somehow the idea of Cali packing her little wash bag with the accoutrements of a sexually responsible woman—even though it appeared she’d had limited or lack-luster experience if that one single condom had suffered such a bleak and joyless existence in her bag—made him think again of the way she’d looked at him the night before as she confessed that she hadn’t been kissed in such a very long time.

He shouldn’t be thinking about it. The way she’d melted against him, the taste of her sigh in his mouth, the heat of her—

This was Amanda’s new shooting star. He didn’t want the strings. But still he made a mental note that if Cali ever looked at him as she had last night—if his resolve ever weakened—to bring his own protection. A whole box, not a single rubber.

Behind the decrepit prophylactic he hit the jackpot, with a small stash of equally ancient bandages. Returning to Cali’s side, he peeled the adhesive backs free then carefully applied them to cover her cuts.

“Pretty big faint for not a lot of wound, there, Cali.” He pushed a lock of hair from her eyes, tracing down the line of her jaw and under it to the soft, warm skin of her neck, where he found her carotid artery. Her pulse beat against the gentle pressure of his fingers, healthy and strong.

As he stared down at her face he saw she was beginning to stir. Her long-lashed lids fluttered like butterfly wings and then slowly lifted, revealing eyes like emeralds. Her lips parted, and he had the insane urge to sink into them with a kiss—

“Get your filthy hands off me.”

Jake arched a brow, not bothering to fight the smile that rose in response to her throaty grunt. “My hands are clean, sweetheart. Habit of the trade. Aren’t you a nasty little ogre in the morning?”

Cali began pushing up on her good arm, her sharp-edged stare slashing at him, but Jake stopped her with a firm hand against her shoulder and pushed her back into the mattress. “Not yet. Let’s give it a minute more before you hop out of bed. Do you always faint at the sight of blood?”

Her jaw flexed, and a sound that was almost a growl emanated from low in her throat. “Only when it’s mine. Your blood wouldn’t bother me a bit.”

For someone on the edge of consciousness, her temper seemed in good working order. Jake leaned back, amused. “Really? Interesting.”

“Not interesting. Not interested. I’m furious, so thanks for catching me, but back off.”

Wow. “Take it easy. My presence on your bed is purely professional. Doctor? Remember?”

Cali’s delicate jaw clenched as she blew out an angry breath and refused to meet his eyes.

“Someone must have gotten under your skin good. Look, I didn’t know you worked for Amanda, but, honestly, does it really matter now?” From the look of her scowl, Jake gathered it did.

“Are you kidding?” Cali gritted out, flashing him a murderous glare.

“This is because of last night?” he asked, confused by the overt hostility. “Or did I miss something else?”

Maybe she was as worried about Amanda as he was. But her lashing out at him didn’t make a world of sense. It was an accident. One of fate’s little mess-ups you lived with and got past.

If she was miffed he could understand it. Sulking or in a bit of a pout, sure. Women got that way. But Cali wasn’t any of those. She looked as though she wanted to flay him alive. Considering he’d just carried her, princess-style, across her suite while she dripped blood down his sleeve, and then spent the next five minutes cleaning her minor but messy wounds, a smidgeon of gratitude seemed in order. But, no, she was in a snit.

Emotional and unreasonable, he thought with an inward shiver. Yeah, definitely no more kissing. Right about now he was wishing last night hadn’t taken place either. Being tied, however loosely, to a woman with an irrational temper wasn’t high on his list. Add in the complication of Amanda having a vested interest in this woman’s happiness and productivity, and things could get awkward.

It wouldn’t be fair to any of them. Time to neutralize the situation. Bring in some reason. “Look, I know you’re angry,” he began in an appeasing tone, reminded again of why superficial non-relationships so suited him. “This is an uncomfortable situation for both of us. Last night we had a moment together, and today, all things considered, it’s clearly a good thing that it didn’t go any further than it did. Really, what happened is no big deal.”

A fair acknowledgment on his part.

“No big deal?” Her lip curled in distaste.

“Okay, maybe that was rude,” he muttered, the dread he associated with unreasonable women setting in. What was he supposed to say?

CHAPTER FOUR

CALI felt her stomach congeal. “Talk about an understatement.”

“Yeah, well…” Jake’s jaw shifted, his mouth pulling to the side as he watched her for a second and then shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Excuse me? She pushed up to her elbows to glare at him. What the hell did that mean? The man had just been caught cheating. How dared he be so blasé? This was bad for her—of that there was no doubt. But for Jake? Didn’t he care that his marriage was at stake?

“Anyway, do you need some help with your bags?” he asked, obviously wanting to wrap up the encounter as quickly as possible.

Please. “Oh, I think you’ve done enough already,” she bit out, her panic and temper on the rise. It took everything she had not to kick his two-timing shin.

To think she’d been fantasizing about this guy, aching for more of him…and he was married! He’d made her the other woman. Her instincts stank. She flopped back on the bed, and to her horror tears began to well at the corners of her eyes.

“Cali,” he said from the door. His voice low, oozing understanding. Manipulator. “I can see you’re—”

With a tight shake of her head, she threw up a hand to cut him off. “No. Not a word.”

She felt weak, as though the disappointment was physically weighing her down. And it wasn’t just over him. Sure, Jake was gorgeous—even being a disgusting pig of a cheater couldn’t take that away. But it was his personality as much as his incredible eye-candy appeal she’d found so attractive.

It hurt to be so wrong about him. But, more than being disappointed in who he was, she was disappointed in herself. Three years of keeping her nose clean. Of focusing on work to the exclusion of all else. Of not even giving a man the time of day. And the very first one she decided to give a little flirt to was married.

Her stomach dropped.

To her boss’s sister.

So much for a harmless tryst. She couldn’t think of a single person who wouldn’t be hurt here.

Okay, damage control time. She hadn’t known Jake was Jackson or she would have run for her life. But, even so, she didn’t see Amanda being all that understanding. Obviously it would be in Jake’s best interests to keep the sordid details on the down-low. But what about her? Could she live with herself if she didn’t confess what had happened—if she knowingly participated in the deception of another woman? Sure, they might not have had actual intercourse, but it wasn’t because Jake had thrown up a hand and said no way. He’d been ready to go. He’d wanted to take her home—back to her place, of course.

Oh, he was scum.

No, she definitely could not live with that kind of secret. Even if it meant she’d be sacrificing London—her career. And there was every chance that was exactly what this tawdry little rendezvous had cost her. Because Amanda wasn’t a machine. She was a flesh-and-blood human being, with emotions, who might not be able to put reason ahead of hurt.

Why hadn’t she just walked out of the bar last night? With her track record, why had she pushed her luck and let a man get that close at all? Hadn’t she learned how easily men came between her and her future?

This one was trouble, Jake thought, meeting the flash of Cali’s cold stare. She shifted and her bound curls caught the light streaming through the window, making the soft mass gleam like gilded silk. And for a moment he could see it wound around his fist, thick between his fingers as he pulled her head back.

That was the wrong line of thinking, considering he’d decided she was off-limits. And she’d decided he was an ass.

But, even with a disdainful sneer marring her lips, she made a pretty picture. Faded jeans hugged the sexy lines of her trim hips. A sleeveless shirt was tied behind her neck and ruffled out, accentuating her lean, athletic build, as well as the natural curves he’d had pressed against him all too briefly the night before. Her body was fit, with an arsenal of feminine dips, hollows and swells—enough to make any man’s mouth water.

She was a siren, all right. And at that moment a particularly hateful looking one. Of course the outrage might have something to do with the blatant full-body assessment he’d just concluded.

“Nice,” she hissed.

He was an ass. “Sorry,” he acknowledged, with an unrepentant smile.

Cali’s eyes rolled. “Right. Whatever.” Scrunching up her face like a raisin, she fisted her hands against her eyes, muttering, “Stupid, stupid…One night—sure, no problem…stupid. Stupid!”

Jake raised his brows at her self-directed tirade, concerned by the intensity of her dismay. That was until she spun on him.

“And you—you’re the epitome of every bar-side scavenger I’ve ever heard about. You revolt me!”

Jake stiffened, his concern rapidly evaporating under the scalding lash of her tongue. “What?” Scavenger? Man, that got under his skin. And he revolted her? This from the woman who had begged him for just one more kiss? “Were you even there last night?” No wonder she hadn’t gotten much lip action lately—she was insane.

Glaring daggers, she snapped, “To my eternal regret.”

Where in the hell was her outrage coming from? This couldn’t be the same woman who’d tied him up in knots and nearly brought him to his knees. He didn’t understand—and he hated that.

He waited for enlightenment to smack his forehead.

It didn’t.

There had to be an answer. “Are you on drugs?”

“Get lost, Jackson.”

And now with the Jackson business? Nice. Yeah, you first. “Seriously, Cali, what’s your problem?”

Her head snapped around. “Are you kidding?”

He rolled his shoulders, then cocked his head, waiting her out. She issued a disgusted grunt and blew a renegade tendril of hair from her eyes with an exasperated breath. “I work for your sister-in-law. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, a position within her corporation is highly coveted.”

Jake watched her march around the hotel room, gathering her things. “Yeah. I’m aware.”

As a rule he considered himself a gentleman, but he’d be damned if he’d help—especially since her arm didn’t seem to be bothering her too much and the dressing was holding. Instead he propped a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms and legs, and forced a careless smile while refusing to give in to the urge to grab that bag out of her hands and load it himself.

Cali wrenched a zipper closed, huffing. “So you see what’s at stake?”

Not really. Aside from the fact that what had happened last night had nothing to do with Cali’s job, Jake was a big boy, and not prone to crowing about his phone booth conquests to just anyone who would listen. If she wasn’t planning to spill to Amanda, Jake was more than happy to save himself a whole lot of hassle and keep his mouth shut too.

Only Cali was back in his face, panic and fury blazing in her cheeks. “I see that smug look,” she accused, like the crazy person he suspected her to be. “Don’t think for one second that you have me bent over a barrel because of last night.”

Bent over a barrel?

Right now she deserved to be bent over his knee. His jaw clenched as he struggled for patience. What did it matter what she thought? Jake wasn’t a man concerned with others’ perceptions, so why should he feel himself rising to the bait of this woman he had nothing, nothing, invested in?

She glared up at him in silent accusation, and suddenly concepts like self-control and maturity lost their allure. “Relax, sweetheart, if I’d really wanted you in bed, or bent over anything, I would have had you there last night. All I had to do was stop one second earlier and you would have been begging me. Strike that. You did beg.”

Cali’s chin pulled back with her gasp. Patches of red splashed up her neck and face. “You jackass!”

Ha! That felt better. Rising above was overrated. “Really? Me?”

“I never—”

“Please, don’t even try to deny that you weren’t desperate for what I gave you.”

Cali’s fists landed on her hips as she leaned forward. “Desperate’s a pretty big word when satisfaction comes as easy as a pack of D-cell batteries, buddy,” she answered with an icy laugh.

He knew what she was implying, and he didn’t want to think about it—not now. Not with her waving her ticket to Crazyville in his face.

They’d gotten off track, anyway. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth for a moment’s control. They needed to take this down a notch.

“Look, trust me, I’m not about to go talking to Amanda about this.”

“Oh, that I never doubted,” she huffed. “Men like you make me want to…to…”

She’d stopped in her tracks, and, standing there red-faced, arms cocked at her sides, fists balled, she looked as if she wanted to stomp her foot.

She was a hassle.

Irrational.

Probably bipolar, considering the swing from last night’s engaging sweetheart to this morning’s unreasonable aggressor. His focus narrowed on the rise and fall of her chest, the pull and give of blue and white fabric across her breasts, the flush of red that darkened the hollow between them.

Sexy.

Jake didn’t do “crazy”. The passionate drama that drew some men was, to him, like a neon sign flashing in screaming orange: Run!

Only this time it wasn’t.

This time all that irrational heat and intensity was wrapped in a package he’d had his hands on once and was finding it harder and harder to ignore.

“Men like me make you want to what?” he asked, taking a step toward her, dropping his tone to a bedroom lure. “I know what I made you want last night.”

“Low-life bastard.” Her breath came faster, and the flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her neck became frantic. When she stepped back he closed in, propelled by some kind of contagious mental illness driving his predatory urge.

“Tell me, Cali. What’s so different about this morning?” he taunted.

Her eyes darkened, the long muscles of her throat moving up and down as she backed herself into the wall, crossing her arms over her chest—but not fast enough to hide the evidence of her hardened nipples straining through the taut fabric of her shirt. Lies and denial would only take her so far.

“Are you deranged?” she whispered, in a husky voice that betrayed her emotions as much as the rest of her body had.

Definitely. He had to be. Because something inside him had snapped and all he could think about was getting Cali into that big bed behind her. “You respond to me physically. I can see it.”

“Because you’re man-candy. But I still wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Man-candy?” He nearly laughed, loving the sound of it. “Really?”

“It’s an insult!” she hissed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m dehumanizing you. Feel cheap and dirty, but for God’s sake don’t revel in it!”

There wasn’t much he could do but shrug. “Man-candy” was the best insult he’d heard this decade. But Cali wasn’t done with him.

“Is this some kind of sexual addiction condition with you? Do you need a support group? Can I call your sponsor?”

Jake just stared steadily at her, knowing the bravado was about to break. And then it did—only not in the breathless, tossing-herself-into-his-arms way he’d expected.

Suddenly Cali looked weary and defeated as she peered up at him. “Don’t vows mean anything to you?”

That stopped him dead. Vows?

Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, revealing a picture—

Not possible. She couldn’t think…

But then it all made sense. The way she’d referred to Amanda. Her shock at seeing him, her hostility, her disgust, her resistance to the obvious chemistry between them.

She thought he was married. And she was utterly undone over it—out of her mind upset, offended, and enraged.

The corner of his mouth pulled into a grin he couldn’t fight. His sexy Cali, who hadn’t been kissed in so very long and who sparked his blood to fire, was a principled little thing.

“Stop leering at me like that!” she snapped.

“So this—this animosity is about the vows?” he asked, suddenly curious about the strength of her convictions.

She blinked twice, and then met his stare with her own. “Don’t mock me. Of course it’s about the vows. And my job. Amanda’s my boss. It’s despicable that you don’t have enough respect for your poor wife to keep your tongue to yourself.”

“Hey, as I remember it, you seemed rather eager for my tongue last night.” And she’d tasted good, too.

“But to drag me into your—your debauchery is unconscionable—”

Debauchery? Come on, that was cute.

“Of course if you don’t care about your marriage, why would I think you’d care about jeopardizing my career?”

Now, that wasn’t something she should have to worry about. This had gone far enough.

“Just settle down. You’ve got me all wrong—” he began, feeling better than he had since the moment she tore out of the bar.

“Save it. I haven’t got you at all.” With a cock of her head and a patronizing smile, she added, “Nor do I have any desire to get you.”

“No, Cali, really, you—”

“Please! I’m not interested. If you’ll give me the key and the address, we can say goodbye now and get on with the fallout from this freaking disaster.” Her fury seemed to burn away as he watched. She slumped against the wall, her face slackened and her lids closed. “Please.”

Jake caught her chin between his finger and thumb and forced her to look at him. “Let me finish.”

Sure he had her attention, he softened his voice and lowered his face an inch closer to hers. “I didn’t realize Amanda still referred to me as her brother-in-law, because, lawfully speaking, I’m not. The ‘poor wife’ you’re referring to remarried four years ago, and has been living quite happily with Paulo ever since.”

Her mouth dropped open, making Jake’s curve.

“I. Am. Not. Married.”

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