Baby, It's Cold Outside

chapter 1

Kate Seymour studied the computer in front of her, squinted, and read the entry again.

And again.

Her heart beat faster and that familiar electrical buzz tingled under her skin. Impossible. They were completely different—a match made in literal hell, not heaven. Yet numbers like this didn’t lie. Time to bring in the troops.

She hit the intercom button. “Hey, Arilyn? Can you come in here? And bring Kennedy.”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later, her business partners and best friends joined her in the office. Her face softened into a smile at their presence. Their drunken plans years ago to start their own matchmaking agency in Verily, upstate New York, sounded impossible, but they’d made it work. More so. With over a dozen marriages, and endless statistically proven committed happy relationships, they’d made the dream a reality. Kinnections was an exclusive matchmaking agency that catered to the twenty-five-to-forty crowd, and had already been featured in local newspapers and television stations as the new “hot” way to meet a mate. Hell, it had actually worked for her and Kennedy. Now if only they could find Arilyn her match.

Kennedy Ashe, the social recruiter and makeover expert, slid into the chair and let out a sigh. Her burnished hair, whiskey eyes, and plum Donna Karan suit screamed polish and success. “Please let this be good news. I’ve already depleted my hotel bottles of liquor. Is it Friday yet?”

Arilyn shook her head in sympathy, her strawberry hair streaming down her back in pin straight strands. Green eyes shone with concern. She was both counselor and computer guru, and dedicated her life to living a natural, healthy pathway to happiness. She wore her usual outfit of organic cottons, and spent her free time in yoga classes or with the rescue shelter. “Do you need some chocolate, sweets? I have a Kashi bar in my purse.”

Kennedy flashed her a grateful smile. “No, thanks. I’m saving my calories. I’m bummed over the breakup with Sally and Tom. I thought they were perfect together. I hate when I screw up.”

Kate tapped her finger against the desk. “We can’t be one hundred percent all the time. We’ll rematch them and maybe find a better fit.”

“I guess.” Kennedy pouted. She hated when one of her own matches failed. They all took their jobs seriously, knowing the journey to love was filled with a mix of emotions that included heartbreak too many times.

“Which brings me to why I asked you in here.” She swiveled her Apple screen around so her friends could look. “Remember I told you about my neighbor Riley Fox?”

Arilyn nodded. “CEO of Chic Publishing. Named Fortune’s woman of the year, gorgeous, smart, and completely kick-ass. Can’t believe she still lives in Verily. Aren’t her offices in Manhattan?”

“Yes, but Riley prefers to stay out of the limelight. She’s been a longtime resident here. I’ve been trying to convince her for years to sign up with Kinnections, but she always refused.”

Kennedy cocked her head. “Riley probably doesn’t need us. With her background, I bet finding men isn’t a problem.”

“Guess again.”

Arilyn let out a small sigh as an inner lightbulb cranked on. “Ah, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Plenty of quantity but little quality?”

Kate grinned. “Her last date drove her to the Ben & Jerry’s and a weekend marathon of Top Chef. She’s thirty-three, and her biological clock just turned on.”

“Ticktock,” Kennedy said. “Rotten piece of machinery if you ask me. If it was up to me, I would’ve pulled the batteries long ago.”

Kate’s lips tugged in a grin. “How many times has Nate proposed this month?”

Her friend grunted. “A few.”

Kennedy had found her soul mate and the love of her life in Nate Dunkle, but she was still refusing to surrender to the final step of marriage. Kate was enjoying watching her friend’s barriers crash down one by one as Nate first moved in, then dedicated himself to proving marriage wasn’t a deadly trap for females.

“Well, Riley has a different approach. I’ve done her intake, and she’s refused counseling and makeover.”

“The woman was on the cover of Fortune. She doesn’t need a trip to the mall,” Kennedy pointed out.

Arilyn pursed her lips. “But everyone could use some counseling. What is she looking for, Kate?”

This was where it got delicate. Kate steepled her fingers and stared at her friends. “She was the most thorough client I’ve ever met with. Knows everything she wants, everything she doesn’t, and is so specific I thought we’d never be able to match her. I used that new computer profiling system you built, A, and the craziest thing happened. I got a full match.”

Kennedy leaned forward. “Full? You mean, one hundred percent?”

The room grew quiet. The system of matching people with the computer was a delicate balance of science, gut instincts, and social networking. A top-rated match was 80 percent, and they already had three marriages from the statistic. But this time it was different.

Arilyn’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful. We found her perfect match. Who is he?”

Kate tapped a key and pointed to the screen.

Arilyn and Kennedy gasped in unison.

“Full name: Ryan Dylan McCray,” Kate announced. “Preferred to be known as, and called, Dylan.”

Arilyn looked pale. “There must be a bug. That’s impossible.”

Kennedy let out a humorless laugh. “Arilyn’s right. Dylan’s been with us for over two years now. He’s had twelve mixers, five socials, thirty-two dates, and multiple sessions of counseling. He’s a Peter Pan billionaire playboy who says he wants a wife, but calls us within twenty-four hours of the first date and tells us there’s no chemistry. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Kate motioned again to the screen. “I know! I checked it numerous times, pulled their files, and manually went over each point. Their personalities are completely contradictory, yet the computer assigns them a perfect match.”

Arilyn shivered. “Maybe there’s something bigger going on here. The universe is trying to tell us something.”

Kennedy walked over to the screen, dropped into the chair near the desk, and began studying the charts and data. “I don’t trust the universe, I trust Kate. Why don’t you bring them both to the office, lay your hands on them, and confirm whether they’re a match?”

Kate groaned. Her ability she termed the “touch” had been passed from generation to generation. She was able to sense an immediate electrical connection between two soul mates. It had been more of a curse in her endless dating years, until she touched Slade Montgomery, a client of Kinnections and her total opposite, and realized they were meant to be together. “Ken, I told you we don’t run our business like that. I’m not going to touch every couple and try to match people that way. We rely on our all assets here—we agreed on that point when we opened.”

Arilyn chimed in. “She’s right. No using Kate for a shortcut. I say we set them both up on a date. They have nothing to lose. If it doesn’t work, we know there’s a glitch in the system and I’ll rework it. If they fall for each other, it’s a win-win.”

Kennedy scrolled through the numerous pages and finally leaned back in surrender. “Agreed. I’ve never seen this before. It’s almost by being completely opposite they’re a perfect match. Bizarre.”

“I know. They both attended Cornell the same years, too. Think they know each other?”

Kennedy seemed to ponder the information. “Could be. This gets more and more mysterious, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. My instincts say to go ahead and schedule the date but not give them much information. They both tend to make assumptions early on, and I think meeting blind would be better. No full names or background details. I think they both trust me enough to take the leap.”

Her friends both agreed and Kate relaxed. “Good, that was what I figured, but I wanted to check with you both first. I was thinking of setting them up this weekend. Ice-skating in Rinker’s Park. It’s romantic around the holidays.”

“I love ice-skating,” Arilyn said dreamily. “It forces couples to be intimate in a natural way.”

“Like yoga?” Kennedy quipped.

Arilyn shot her a glare. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Ken. I’ve reached levels you never even heard of. In and out of the studio.” She paused. “And the bedroom.”

Kennedy laughed. “I know a challenge when I hear one.” She slid off her chair and headed for the door. “Maybe I’ll have Nate study Tantric sex and give me a full demonstration. The man is a walking fountain of knowledge.” Her grin turned wicked. “In and out of the bedroom.”

Kate shook her head as her friend blew them kisses and disappeared. Arilyn fought a grin and got up. “Let me know if you need any help with this one.”

“Thanks. Hey, A, when you counseled Dylan, did you find any huge issues I should know about?”

Arilyn looked thoughtful. “No. Weird, because usually billionaire playboys have issues and angst galore. Dylan is charming, funny, and smart. But he seems to be looking for something I can’t pinpoint. Has a strong family background and seems like he’d make a great husband or father. I just don’t know what’s holding him back.”

Kate nodded. “Okay, thanks. Girls’ night Friday at Mugs?”

“Absolutely.”

She watched Arilyn retreat and swiveled back her computer screen. She’d set up the date and hope for the best. Her instincts hummed, as if something big was about to happen. Unfortunately, it could be a premonition of either great circumstance or complete disaster.

Kate prayed for the former and reached for her phone.

chapter 2

Riley Fox was late.

She despised tardiness.

Trying not to freak out and get all OCD before she went on her first official matchmaking date, she dragged in a breath for calm, and methodically clicked down her list of items to take. Purse. iPhone. Charger. Water. Check, check, check, check.

The snow was steadily falling so she tugged on her leather gloves, buttoned her coat to the neck, and locked the door. Her sleek silver Infiniti was already warmed, and she sighed when her rear slid into the heated seat. Hmm, she knew the general direction, but never made the trek up the mountain. Better get Google Maps ready. The GPS in the car sucked and usually gave her the wrong directions. She clicked on the app, tapped in the address, and buckled her seat belt. Easing the car onto the snow-covered road, Riley headed for her ice-skating date.

Deciding to forgo music for her thoughts, she ignored the slight twinge of nerves in her stomach and wondered if she’d been crazy to agree to this. Riley expected photos, full name, date of birth, social security number, and a checklist of traits her date copped to. Instead, Kate informed her it was a total blind encounter. Meaning she knew his first name was Ryan, he would meet her at exactly 7 p.m. by the gate of Rinker’s Park, and he was safe, sane, and cute.

Kate refused to give her anything else.

Normally, that would challenge Riley’s competitive instincts to shine and compel Kate to give her more information, but Arilyn backed Kate up by gently reminding her of her inability to take risks in her love life, and how going in without any prior information would open her mind.

Finally, she agreed. But if the man exhibited any violations of her rules she was outta there.

Riley drove through Verily, relaxing slightly as the cheerful lights and festive atmosphere on a cold December night made her feel alive. She’d fallen in love with the upstate river town’s artsy appeal and quiet demeanor. Working in Manhattan was amazing—there wasn’t a city in the world as vibrant and fast paced, and she thrived on a career level. But personally, she gravitated toward a quirky, calmer type of atmosphere, where she could sip a coffee, window-shop, talk to her neighbors, and pretend she wasn’t living for sales reports, auctions, and networking.

Pathetic.

Normally, she wouldn’t have cared. Her drive for achievement was something she now lived with and never questioned. Valedictorian in college, a coveted internship in Manhattan at graduation, and years of learning from the best in the business. Finally, she’d been ready to take the leap to create her own publishing business focused on women.

Everyone called her crazy. Laughed. Refused to take her seriously.

Now that same line of rotten men lined up to kiss her ass.

Score.

Riley held back a giggle and took the next turn slow. Her rear wheels slid, adjusted, and pushed on. Damn, this was gonna be a bitch of a snowstorm. The initial reports had called for a dusting, but already huge flakes hit her windshield in kamikaze form, and the faint sound of tinkling ice warned her of the road conditions.

Crap. She was still fifteen minutes late.

Knowing her car could handle it, she calmly pressed the accelerator to make up for some time, keeping her senses sharp to the surroundings around her. She was an excellent driver and had never gotten into an accident. She drove like she did everything else in her life: with a firm capability and a goal toward one thing.

Success.

Men said she had issues. Who didn’t? She’d plunged ahead, and except for the occasional sexual affair she carefully plotted out to meet her bodily needs, she never felt lonely. Until recently. Stupid female clock screwed everything up. She was going along quite happily when she’d caught sight of a pregnant woman stroking her belly.

She’d stopped in the middle of a crowded street. The hit of emotion drained her breath and an ache in her heart made her want to wail like a toddler. From that moment, everything changed. Riley looked at couples around her, baby strollers, flashing diamond rings, and she wanted. Wanted with her heart, soul, and gut, like she’d never wanted anything before.

She’d called Kate and decided to do something about it.

Work had been the element to drive her forward, but now she was ready to attack her personal life. Finally at the stage she always dreamed to be in her career, she realized lately she was lonely. An empty ache pulsed in her gut. She craved cooking in her gourmet kitchen for someone other than herself. Her three-hundred-count Egyptian cotton sheets were cold with no one to snuggle with. Wasn’t it time she finally focused on finding love? Wasn’t it finally her turn?

Her past dates had been bitterly disappointing. Always lacking in certain qualities, exhibiting characteristics she refused to bend on. Too lazy, or arrogant, or needy. Not father material. Not husband material. Lacking character or humor or intelligence.

She yearned for a companion to share her life with. Raise a family. Grow old together. Riley knew the exact type of man who’d complement her lifestyle. A man who was serious, hardworking, family oriented. Perhaps a bit conservative, with an ability to be calm and even tempered. She despised fighting or disagreements. She pictured living in harmony with a man who was also her friend.

He needed to fit.

Kinnections was the right choice for her. The detailed questionnaire she filled out confirmed the match would be based entirely on her checklist and requirements. Science, not the fickle dream of fate where lust was mistaken for love and sex for commitment.

She reached the foot of the mountain. The car fishtailed, then straightened. Riley clenched and unclenched her fingers around the wheel. Call and cancel? Was he running late, too, from the weather? She peered through the whipping windshield wipers and judged how much farther up the rink was. Probably not far. Her car was topnotch in bad weather, and maybe it was going to stop soon.

This date could be the one. Kinnections was successful, and boasted an extremely high percentage of marriages. Her husband could be waiting on top of that mountain and a bit of snow was not going to stop her from finally meeting him.

She inched her way up and came to a fork in the road. Where was the sign? Why was her iPhone suddenly silent? With a disgusted mutter, Riley grabbed her phone.

No signal.

Crap. Okay, the rink couldn’t be far. She mentally recited eeney meeney miney moe and took the right. The road emptied and twisted before her, flanked by thick woods. Huge, gnarled trees bent over and shook in the wind. Icicles dripped from branches and pelted ice drops at her windshield. Why did she suddenly feel like she’d dropped into Narnia? Riley downshifted, curving around another bend, and almost hit the brake at the sight before her.

Massive wrought-iron gates rivaling those in King Kong towered before her. Wicked spikes lined the top and blocked a row of ice-encrusted privacy bushes. She caught a glimpse of a towering, multitiered brick fortress as she reached the top of the road, and gently pumped the brake.

The tires caught, spun, and slid to the right. She pulled the wheel in the opposite direction but it was too late.

The rear end fishtailed and dropped her backward over the side incline.

The last thought Riley had was how pissed off she was that she’d miss meeting her future husband.

Then everything went black.

chapter 3

Dylan McCray stared at the unconscious woman on his couch and wondered if someone was playing a joke on him. After all, he’d just been hand delivered the woman he hadn’t been able to get off his mind or his dick for the past decade.

He swore softly and lay a damp washcloth over her forehead. He had no idea if it was the right thing to do, but he’d seen the move in enough films to figure it worked. Thank God she’d been lucky. Other than the bruise on her cheek, she didn’t have any bumps or breaks. The car was banged up, but her seat belt and the open ditch filled with snow had softened the blow. He shuddered to think of the circumstances if she’d hit the trees.

Her breathing was deep and even. Her heart rate steady. What the hell was she doing here? He’d decided to close the park once the snow began, so he hadn’t expected anyone. He assumed his blind date was canceled. The cell lines were down so he couldn’t call Kate, and in some weird type of power move Kate refused to give him a last name, so it wasn’t like he could even try and track down the mysterious woman.

He was getting ready to close up the gates when he caught the crash on his security camera. Thank God he’d seen it or Riley could’ve been trapped overnight. He hoped she didn’t have a concussion. He figured worst-case scenario he’d get the snowplow and drive her to the hospital. First, he’d try to wake her up and work from there.

What was the woman doing out in a blizzard? Anger twisted with fear and burned through his system, though he kept his touch gentle. For God’s sake, no one was out in this weather. The radio blasted the quick movement of the storm heading their way, and warned everyone to stay home. Of course, if Riley Fox was the same stubborn, frustrating woman she’d always been, no wonder she hadn’t listened. She had a God complex. It both fascinated and irritated him.

Besides getting him hot.

His gaze took in her softened features. She hadn’t changed. Dark hair with burgundy highlights was swept back from her high forehead and fell in long silky waves to her shoulders. She used to wear it scooped up in a no-nonsense ponytail that bobbed when she walked. Her face was well-defined, which made for an arresting vision that held a man’s attention and entranced him to look deeper. He remembered eyes the color of a soft violet, snapping with command and control. Her lips were thin but perfectly formed to a bow shape. Her jaw was too square, her cheekbones too blunt, her nose too sharp, her brows too arched. But all the features put together made her impossible to ignore.

Just as she liked it.

They’d shared a dormitory at Cornell for four years. He still pictured the way she marched down the hallways, backpack swinging, gaze directed ahead with a tunnel vision no beginning college students exhibited. She avoided sororities, beer pong parties, sporting events, and generally any social activity where there was alcohol, sex, and distraction. She graduated with a double major in business management and marketing, a minor in English, worked for the Junior Executive League, school newspaper, and published three articles in featured mass-market magazines.

She was a force of nature, but Dylan suspected underneath she was one big hot mess. Total control freak meets uptight workaholic. They’d almost killed each other when Professor Tagg paired them for the final project in sophomore year. Fifty percent of their grade and he almost quit. Almost.

He was too stubborn to let her win.

Even more so because of the heat between them.

Dylan shook his head at the memory. Unbelievable. One moment he wanted to strangle her, the next back her up against the wall, release the ponytail, and strip off that white prim blouse she always favored. It was almost as if the fighting was a crazy form of foreplay, but she’d die rather than admit it.

So would he.

Still, he’d fantasized that he could push her proper boundaries to make her scream. Beg. Come. For him.

His dick hardened but he shook it off and began pacing. Why the hell did it have to be Riley Fox to turn him into a horn dog? He had tons of money, a good disposition, looks, and a sense of humor. He’d dated so many women it must be in the triple digits, bedded many along the way, and not once had he found the lightning strike.

Maybe he never would.

But already, the air hummed like a live presence, and his blood warmed in his veins. Her scent swam in his nostrils and in his memory. Oranges and jasmine. Some intoxicating mingle of images involving juicy, ripe fruit trickling down his chin, soft floral blossoms, and pure sweetness.

The ridiculous poetry of his thoughts made him groan. Stupid. Her presence just brought back memories and surprised him. The moment she opened her mouth he’d be reminded of their inability to get through a two-minute conversation without wanting to kill each other.

She stirred in her sleep. Dylan walked back over and stared down at her. Was she sleeping too long? Should he wake her? He cursed under his breath and decided to shake her gently. Maybe help her along. He reached over.

Her eyes flew open.

Dylan jerked back from the sudden awakening like a vampire in a coffin. He watched her gorgeous eyes flicker, obviously trying to remember where she was and what had happened. He opened his mouth to calm her. Explain what happened in a soothing voice so she didn’t freak out on him.

He never got a chance.

She shot up to a sitting position, hair sliding over one eye, a scowl marring her brows. Her mouth twisted as if she’d either tasted or smelled something bad.

“You.”

Her voice slammed him with disdain and ice.

And just like that, Dylan was back in college with a woman who’d pushed every single button he owned and a few he never knew he had.

He treated her to a slow, insolent smile.

“Hey, darlin’. Long time, no see.”

The fury on her face from the familiar greeting made him feel a hell of a lot better.

Yeah. Maybe this would be more fun than he expected.

When Riley woke, she was struck by blinding white.

At first, she thought she’d died. Heaven was really pretty in a clean Rachel Zoe way. The vaulted ceiling, walls, and lush shag carpet were pure white. An elaborate four-tier chandelier dripped crystals and pearls, adding to the effect of elegance. A huge fireplace framed in marble took up the far end of the room. The sound of snapping logs drifted in the air. She rolled to her side and noticed she lay on a long white sofa, with matching wing chairs of the same color. At least heaven was color coordinated. She’d be so disappointed to be stuck in tie-dye.

Her gaze rose and collided with a pair of stunning eyes. One pure blue. The other a rich brown. A memory deep inside unfurled, and heat bloomed in her belly, spreading through her veins. Impossible. She knew this man.

Dylan McCray.

She struggled for composure, and bolted upright. Dear God, it was him. How was it possible to look better after a whole decade? His hair was still a delicious mix of wheat-colored strands with streaks of white peppered throughout. With that thick and unruly hair, he gave off a surfer vibe. The deceiving halo was a wicked contradiction to his hypnotic gaze that could command a woman to drop her panties in 2.2 seconds. His face was a dance of graceful lines that set off his lips, which had a delicious natural sulky curve. He sported dimples that emphasized his mischievous charm rather than caused him to look boyish. He reminded her of an angel, with a lean, muscled physique. He was Michael and Gabriel reincarnated to seduce women and master men on Earth.

“You.”

The word blasted from her mouth in pure shock, horror, and frustration.

Riley stared back helplessly at the man she’d never been able to forget. Heir to McCray Technologies—the billion-dollar computer giant rivaling Sony and Apple for market share with cutting-edge electronics. A playboy who bedded every woman in his path, and graduated with a 4.0 in business management without even trying. A man who believed in fun and frolic before work, owned a wicked sense of humor, and was the sexiest male specimen she’d ever laid her eyes on.

Yeah. She despised him.

He’d literally tortured her throughout college. Stuck sharing a dormitory, with her room a short distance down the hall from his, she spent those years watching him go through every last woman on campus and party his ass off. While she worked and studied nonstop, he gained his A’s easily. He never went to the library, never turned a paper in on time, and was the leader in every social activity at Cornell. He was revered by teachers and students, walked on water like the Golden Boy he was, and made it his goal to annoy the hell out of her every step of the way.

Yet . . .

Every verbal battle emphasized a strange connection between them. The sparks when they fought literally whizzed in the air, and he had a way of defusing her ironclad rules with a sense of humor that sometimes even had her struggling to remain serious. They were picture-perfect opposites—doomed to be anything but enemies with a tad of grudging respect mixed in.

Until the kiss.

Riley scowled as the memory hit her hard. She refused to think about that short, weak moment. She’d completely forgotten it anyway. Kind of.

“Hey, darlin’. Long time, no see.”

Her temper rose. His Texas drawl may have been hot shit at Cornell, but she knew the truth. He used it on purpose to score, and called every female darlin’. Like they were special. He also knew she despised the lame term with its chauvinistic facets. So, it was to be war from the beginning, huh?

Bring it.

“What are you doing here? Where have you taken me?” she demanded.

That sulky lip curled halfway up. “Your car slid into the ditch. I caught it on the security camera, pulled you out, and now you’re in my house.”

“Your house?” She studied the room again, remembering the spooky massive mansion rising above the mountaintop. “You live here? In the creepy house?”

A touch of annoyance lit his gaze. “It happens to be historic, and I had the place refurbished. What I find more creepy is you sneaking around my place during a blizzard. Miss me, darlin’?”

Riley managed not to bare her teeth and hiss. “Hardly. I was meeting a date at the skating rink. I have no idea how I got here, I must’ve taken the wrong way at the fork in the road. My car slid when I reached the top.”

“Rinker’s Park is the left.”

“Great, my fifty-fifty shot failed again. Would be nice if there was a sign.”

“You probably missed it in the storm. Must be some date to risk your life for a bit of ice-skating.”

She glowered. “I didn’t realize it would be this bad. The report said a dusting.”

“At 7 a.m. They changed it later this morning. Why didn’t your date cancel?”

No way was she letting him know the truth. Blind dates were humiliating to begin with, let alone admitting she had to use a matchmaking agency because she was so hard up. Never. “It’s a long story. Listen, thank you for playing the prince on horseback role, but I need to get home. Where’s my cell?”

He shrugged. “Probably in the car.”

Riley gasped. “My purse? Did you get that?”

“No, I was more focused on pulling your body from a vehicle that could burst into flames. Sorry I didn’t check for personal belongings.”

His sarcastic wit hit home. How was he able to make her mad at the same time she wanted to laugh? He continuously kept her off balance throughout school until she erected a barrier to keep him at a distance. Usually she figured out exactly what made a man tick, what he wanted, and his strengths and weaknesses. She knew it was a talent that served her well in the business world. With Dylan, she was still clueless.

Okay, plan B. She lifted her hand and touched her scalp. Nothing felt tender. She had gotten lucky.

“How are you feeling?”

She scooped her hair away from her face. “Fine, I just got shook up.”

He nodded. “Do you remember everything? You know, where you live, what you do, et cetera.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re not in one of those awful chick flicks where I get amnesia and you help me rediscover the beauty of life. Of course I remember everything.”

“Good to see you remembered your charming disposition.”

Riley was tempted to stick out her tongue but it would be too undignified. Better to focus on getting off this mountain and away from him. “If I can use your phone, I’ll take my disposition out of here. I’m sure there are some tow services that come out in the storm.”

“Doubt it. Besides, there’s no cell service. The telephone lines are coated with ice and the mountain is a death zone. Supposed to get a foot overnight. No one’s getting in or out of here till tomorrow.”

Worry nipped her nerves. “What about the facility? The employees should know how to contact emergency services. This is a huge skating complex.”

He hadn’t lost the easy confidence that made students part the hallway to let him through. As if he owned not just the campus, but every room he walked into and claimed. He cocked his head, then offered a faint smile. “Everything’s shut down. We closed early and sent all the workers home. There’s no one here but you and me, Riley.”

No. Way. She stared at his amused look and clenched her fists in frustration. “How do you know so much about the park anyway? You’re trapped in an empty building from The Shining and completely isolated! I bet if I hiked over there I’d find someone to help me.”

She waited for him to sputter out excuses, but he kept staring at her with those kaleidoscope eyes that did very bad things to the sensitive spot between her thighs. He seemed to savor the moment of charged silence.

“Because I not only own this house. I own Rinker’s Park.” She stiffened, watching as he slowly came toward her and closed the distance. His presence radiated shocking heat and a purpose she didn’t want to examine too closely. “I suggest you get comfortable, because you’re not going anywhere.”

chapter 4

Dylan watched her eyes widen. Her face reflected a dozen emotions as she sought to process and organize, probably already planning two forms of attack.

The woman never surrendered easily.

“Let’s recap. I’m trapped here alone with you overnight in a spook house. Why are you here anyway? You’re supposed to be in some trendy Manhattan condo making your billions.”

He smothered a laugh. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought. If I give you a tour you’d see the benefits of living here. I have privacy, beautiful scenery, and complete access to the park whenever I’d like. I can also commute easily into the city.”

She rose from the sofa and swiped her hands over her black knit pants. The fabric fit snugly over the line of her thigh and curve of her rear. A cheerful red sweater emphasized the same impressive cleavage she had back in college. Dylan used to wonder how her breasts would fit in his hands, then be so freaked by the thought he’d go get drunk. Sequined black fur boots encased her feet. She looked like a sleek snow bunny who needed a tumble. He always wondered if Riley Fox lost all that well-earned control in bed.

An interesting idea to toy with.

She straightened up and propped her hands on her hips. “I have a better idea. You show me where a spare room is, and I’ll see you in the morning. Haven’t gone to bed early in a while. Extra sleep will be good for me.”

His lips twitched. “Sorry, you may have a concussion and I’m not taking any chances. You stay with me.”

She waved a manicured hand in the air. “No worries, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t care. You’re still not leaving my sight.”

“You’re kidnapping me?” she demanded.

Dylan arched a brow. “Dramatic, much?”

She let out an annoyed breath. He was positive not many people argued with her, or even managed to change her direction. She was bullheaded and determined to do things her way. A spark of challenge lit within. She’d never be an easy woman to live with, but she’d never be boring. “Fine. But I’m drinking. Please tell me you have wine somewhere.”

“I happen to have an excellent wine cellar. White or red?”

“Red, please.”

He walked over to the elaborate scrolled-iron wine rack climbing up the corner. He usually took a few bottles out to be handy, so he grabbed a nice French vintage and popped the cork. “Now that we have the whole night, why don’t you tell me about this date of yours?”

He felt rather than saw her tense. Hmm. What was she hiding? And why was she on his mountain in a blizzard? Dylan poured two glasses and walked over. Their fingers brushed when she took her glass, and once again, the current of electricity tingled. Her hand jerked a bit but she managed to speak coolly.

“Nothing to tell. We got our signals crossed.”

“First date?” he asked.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, we’ve been out a few times. He’s quite charming.”

She stuck her nose in the glass to breathe in the aroma, then slowly took a sip. He enjoyed the way her lips curved in pleasure, and her eyes half closed. The unexpected sensuality of her reaction made his gut clench and his dick stir. He remembered those moments in college. Living in the dormitory, sometimes she’d come strolling out in the common area with her hair up in a messy ponytail, faded T-shirt, and flannel pants. Face scrubbed free of makeup. She’d sit cross-legged on the rug, joining in the conversation. Dylan was fascinated with her natural beauty, open laugh, and quick wit. She’d meet his gaze with her usual cheekiness, but something else stirred beneath the surface. Most of the time she was removed from the crowd, set apart by her own personal drive for success. But that night he remembered she told dirty jokes, drank a few beers, and relaxed. He was fascinated by the different sides to her personality, and longed for more. But the next time he saw her, she was back to her usual conservative demeanor, refusing to acknowledge they actually had fun the night before. She drove him nuts.

Dylan pushed the memory away. “What’s charming’s name?”

“Ryan.”

Warning bells clanged. Ryan? The enormity of the situation overtook him as he finally processed the truth. Kate had told him she wouldn’t provide a last name for his blind date. He never would’ve agreed to such an insane proposal, but he’d been a client of Kinnections for a long time and Kate had earned his trust. Her ridiculous spouting of being open to the impossible by not letting himself prepare or make assumptions before meeting this mystery woman seemed like a bunch of female fantasies he didn’t believe in.

He sifted through his conversation with Kate. His mystery woman would meet him at 7 p.m. at the gate of Rinker’s Park. Tall, with long dark hair. That was all he got.

Holy shit.

Riley Fox was his blind date.

“Why are you looking at me funny?” she asked.

The truth almost made him laugh out loud. Oh, this was too much fun. And one thing he remembered well was Riley’s inability to lie. Fortunately for him, he was great at it. Dylan frowned and cocked his head. “How odd. I know a Ryan who’s quite familiar with the rink. What’s his last name?”

She averted her gaze. “Ugh, I forgot. I’m sure you don’t know him.”

“I think I do. What does he look like?”

She scrunched up her face in her usual revealing way, as if trying desperately to come up with a plausible story. “Brown hair. Blue eyes. Very handsome.” She turned her back on him and pretended to inspect the various trinkets by the fireplace.

“Interesting. And you’ve been seeing him for how long?”

“A few dates.”

“What does he do?”

“Do?” She gulped a few more sips of wine. “He’s a teacher.”

“Sounds like a great guy. What does he teach?”

“Why are you so interested?” A touch of annoyance threaded through her voice.

Dylan tried to keep the glee from showing on his face. “Just am. What does he teach?”

“History.”

“Nice. Where’d you guys meet?” Oh yeah, she was stumped on that one. She glared back at him, obviously searching for an answer. “Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember! A—a café. We both ordered the same coffee.”

“Very romantic.” He pressed his lips together. “Must not be the same Ryan.”

“I told you.”

“See, the Ryan I know signed up for his date at Kinnections. But obviously you didn’t meet him at a matchmaking agency.”

Score.

Her mouth dropped open. She sucked in a breath and stared at him in stunned silence. “Did you say Kinnections?”

“Yep. You know them?”

Her mouth closed with a snap. Suspicion carved out the lines of her face. “Wait a minute. How do you know about Kinnections?”

Dylan rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Because I’m your date.”

She blinked. Spent a few moments analyzing the situation in the clinical way that had made her business such a success. “Impossible,” she declared. “My date’s name is Ryan.”

“I know. My full name is Ryan Dylan McCray. Have you forgotten I go by my middle name? I was supposed to meet a woman with long dark hair at the park gate at exactly 7 p.m. Sound familiar?”

Her brows knitted together and her breath accelerated. “N-no. You can’t be my date. You’d never belong to a matchmaking agency!”

Dylan shrugged. “Why not? You are. Though you’d deny it to the end. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

Her cheeks tinged with temper. Excitement heated his veins and roared in his blood. What was it about this woman that made arguing so much damn fun? It was better than going to the gym or closing a big deal. “Because it was none of your business!” She moaned and paced the floor. “This is terrible. A nightmare. I trusted Kate to find me my husband, not some man candy to fool around with.”

He laughed with delight. “I’m man candy, huh? Guess I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“How could they have possibly matched us? This proves their computer system is completely inaccurate. All that time I spent on my questionnaire is wasted. You have none of the qualities I listed. You probably signed up to get laid!”

His reputation in college preceded him, but it had been a decade of change. Somehow, knowing Riley still believed he was the same person bothered him. “I’m looking for my soul mate just like everyone else is. Using a well-known, statistically proven agency to help me find her is a smart business move. I don’t like to waste time.” He studied her face and the slight flush to her cheeks. “Why are you using them? Thought you’d have dating all figured out now. Shouldn’t you be settled with a husband making six figures, two kids, eco-friendly house, and a hypoallergenic dog?”

That got her. She treated him to a withering look, as if he was a bug beneath her feet, and they were off to the races.

God, it felt good.

“Your asinine theory is exactly what I would expect from a man who has Peter Pan syndrome and never looked beyond a double-D cup to amuse himself.”

“Darlin’, I never discriminate,” he drawled. “B’s and C’s are just fine.”

“I’m not your darlin’.” She mocked his fake drawl with a syrupy sarcasm he adored. The woman didn’t give him an inch. He loved it.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

She let out an aggravated breath. “I get it. Kate does the hard work trying to find you an actual intelligent woman to be your life partner, while you continue screwing around with your little playboy bunnies. Quite ingenious. You were always good at pawning off the labor to others.”

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Are you still steaming over the A I received in Marketing 101? A B is perfectly acceptable, Riley. Get over it.”

She shimmered with rage, clenching her fists. Dylan bet she was barely holding back a stomp of her feet. “Everyone knows you got Tyler to do that for you! He had a bad case of hero worship and would’ve done anything you asked. You cheated, I know you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Besides, you were such a teacher’s pet and up their ass all the time, it’s no big secret why the class resented you. Wrecking the curves, volunteering for extra projects—who does that?”

“Not you, that’s for sure! But of course, I had to work for a living. You didn’t give a crap, because you were able to step into your father’s conglomerate with a starting salary of a million frikkin’ dollars because of your last name.”

Ouch. The hit hurt, but he didn’t blame her. That was the way it looked to everyone, and very few knew how hard he had to work for his father’s respect and to eventually get to a top level of decision making. He started at the bottom of McCray Technologies and took years to learn the business and build his reputation. “You’re wrong. I didn’t start making a million. Not until my six-week probation was over.”

The air caught and sparked between them, like a live wire plunged underwater. She literally trembled. With the need to hit him? Or something else? How much fun would it be to put all those delicious emotions to better use?

Like slamming her against the wall and fucking her so thoroughly she had nothing left to say.

There wasn’t a woman alive he couldn’t charm or finagle a favor from. Except Riley Fox. Four years in Cornell and she’d busted his balls every chance she got, as if his very presence on campus irritated her. He never realized how much fun it was to needle her until graduation came and she was out of his life.

He still thought about the kiss.

Dylan was surprised at how the memory would surface late at night, right before he slid into sleep.

It started as a joke. He’d gotten an A on his organization theory presentation along with a standing ovation. She got an A-minus and seemed ready to murder him, especially since he’d admitted he wrote his speech that morning. She began razzing him about his whore-like tendencies, which he denied. He, in turn, needled her about her control-freak ways in and out of the bedroom, which she denied. And suddenly, in that empty corner hallway, he got a crazy-ass impulse.

Steal a kiss and prove his point.

So he had. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her. And yeah, it had done the job all right. Besides shutting her up, the woman lit up like a ball of fire. His tongue sank into pure heaven, and when they finally pulled apart, they both realized something had changed. Even then, he remembered the raw desire, and the horrifying fear of wanting a woman who drove him apeshit. She seemed to echo his thoughts.

The solution?

They ignored it.

Over the years, he’d caught news of her epic rise in business, and the opening of her publishing firm. He’d seen the cover of Fortune magazine and felt sheer pride at her achievement. Many times, he even wondered about contacting her, before he shook off the urge and got back to his life.

But here she was a decade later. He was a different person, and she’d been delivered to him in a blizzard for one reason. This was no coincidence. The whole situation screamed kismet and all that other bullshit.

Because Dylan realized in that moment he wanted her.

She turned up her nose and looked down like a queen to her peasant. “I despise you.”

He waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “Don’t be silly, you’ve always been secretly attracted to me. You’re probably cranky because you’re hungry. Let’s go into the kitchen and eat. I have leftover turkey sandwiches.”

Riley glared, probably caught between hunger and her need to win the argument. After a few moments, she drained her glass and held it up. “Only if there’s more wine. If I’m going to get through an entire evening without hurting you, I need more alcohol.”

“I can manage that.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

She walked out of the living room and down the hallway like she owned the place.

Dylan grabbed the bottle of wine and followed, shaking his head.

This was going to be a hell of a night.

Riley stalked down the carpeted hallway that seemed longer than the Appalachian Trail, trying not to shudder at the huge portraits canvassing the walls. No way. She’d been to the Haunted Mansion at Disney and she refused to catch the eyes moving. She’d never sleep again.

He followed her, probably waiting to laugh when she walked into some gigantic closet or something, but Riley refused to give him the satisfaction by asking where the kitchen was. She’d eventually find it.

She came into a huge foyer, with a curving staircase and stained-glass windows. How did one person possibly live here? Four arched openings were available. She did the eeny meeny miney mo again, knowing she screwed up the first time, and chose the second doorway.

Nope. The library. Wow, the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases and burgundy Oriental rugs seemed familiar. Hmm, where had she seen something like this before? The room had massive arched windows, and there were leather recliners with afghans draped over the arms and drink tables spaced throughout. And . . . there was another fireplace. Wow.

Dylan’s dry voice echoed behind. “We can eat tomorrow if you want to go through all the rooms. Or you can give up and just ask me where the kitchen is.”

She hated it, but was afraid she’d never find it on her own. And damn, she was hungry. Riley pursed her lips like she sucked on a lemon. “Fine. Where’s the kitchen?”

He treated her to his famous badass grin that always made her stomach do the weird flip-flop thing. “Follow me.”

Back to the foyer, and toward the left. She’d never play eeney meeney miney moe again. She sucked.

“Are you some kind of perverted hermit who wants to hole up in this dusty old place and guard his fortune? Because this is a little weird, dude. Are there servants?”

“Yes. And Mrs. Potts would be devastated to hear you call the place dusty.”

“That’s it!” she screeched. “This place reminds me of Beauty and the Beast !”

He laughed. “Still addicted to Disney movies, huh? I was only teasing. I have a maid and a cook, but you won’t find a withering rose in the east wing.”

She sniffed. “I’ll believe it when I don’t see it. And I’m not addicted to children’s stuff. That one was up for an Academy Award.”

“Sure. That’s why I always caught you watching those movies on your portable, huh?”

“At least I wasn’t watching porno.”

“Wonder who was more satisfied.”

She stuck her tongue out. His broad shoulders shook as if he knew. Why did she revert to juvenile gestures around him? She was always so calm and in control of a situation. Even in college, he was the only person who’d cause her to lose it. Sometimes mentally. Sometimes physically. Sharing the common area bathroom and seeing him half naked all the time never helped. How many times had she interrupted one of his make-out sessions? She’d make gagging noises until Dylan would grab the girl’s hand and pull her into his room, giving her the smoldering look he believed worked on everyone.

Riley hated the way her body flamed to life. Begged to be the woman in his arms. She’d been able to fight through it until that awful, horrible, wonderful moment between them.

The kiss.

This time, the memory wouldn’t be denied.

Senior year. They’d been doing their usual. Arguing about something; hell, she couldn’t even remember what it was. One minute they were engaged in a lively argument, the next he pushed her against the wall and kissed her. She never even paused or thought to deny him. Riley kissed him back like she was starving.

She still remembered every sensation, from the scent of cinnamon on his breath, the warmth of his lips skating over hers, the hot, wet thrust of his tongue as it breached her barriers and sunk deep inside. She had no time to think or plan. Instead, her body roared forward and overtook, falling into the kiss full steam, savoring his taste and his hunger, the feel of his hands gripping her waist, holding her still for his pleasure. God how she loved it, the feeling of being out of control yet safe, and for those rocketing moments, nothing existed but Dylan McCray.

Afterward, they didn’t even speak. He pulled away, gazed into her eyes, and turned on his heel to walk away. They never discussed the kiss, and sometimes Riley wondered if it had just been a dream. Except she remembered every scorching detail, even ten years later.

She’d lost her virginity with her high school boyfriend, had three affairs, and nothing compared to those few minutes of passion in his arms.

Of course, he’d never remember.

Of course, he’d never know her true feelings about the strength of that kiss.

Riley slammed into his back. He spun around and caught her by the shoulders. “You okay?”

So stupid. No more daydreaming about a ridiculous kiss from college. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just hungry.”

“Then let’s get you fed.”

He walked into the kitchen and she almost had an orgasm. Almost.

She loved to cook. Found it a respite from stress, and adored a good plate of food. Her home was small, but she’d created a haven for her baking hobby, even though most of the times she ate by herself.

But Dylan’s kitchen was a gourmet fantasy come true.

Stainless steel everywhere. A Sub-Zero refrigerator. A Wolf oven. A brick oven for pizzas, cappuccino makers, high-grade food processors, with actual copper pots dangling from some crazy gadget over the kitchen island. Endless granite counters, three sinks, and a four-tier spice rack. The room was done in pure black and white with pops of red.

Riley moaned and squeezed her thighs together. Oh, God, the appliances were beautiful. The things she could do here . . .

He was staring at her with fascination and something more. Hunger lit those amazing eyes, darkening the colors to a stormy blue and brown-black. “You like?” he murmured.

She swallowed as her body lit up like a damn pinball machine. She pulled herself together. “I have a thing for stainless steel.”

Those full lips twisted in a half smile. “So it’s my kitchen you’re lusting after? Pity.”

Riley rolled her eyes but turned away so he couldn’t spot the truth. “Get over yourself. Wasn’t nailing my roommate enough? She left the next semester and I got stuck with Smelly Sally for the rest of the year.”

Dylan refilled her wineglass and began pulling out ingredients from the refrigerator. She perched on one of the red stools by the island. “Pris knew the deal. Come on, we dated like twice and she said she was in love with me. I never led her on.”

Riley snorted. “So that makes it right? You broke her heart and she left to go to another dorm. I told her not to go out with you!”

He lined up the post-Thanksgiving meal with freshly cut turkey, large slices of rye bread, and an assortment of condiments. She watched his graceful fingers put together the sandwiches and tried not to think of the other talented things they could do. He was dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a white cable-knit sweater. The material highlighted the blond in his hair, and made him look like some mythical Thor from above. His sexiness made her crankier. No one should look like that. It tipped the favor to the male species.

She drank more wine.

“You were always a bit obsessed with my dating life,” he commented, pulling down two plates. “Or was it my sex life?”

“Just trying to protect the innocent from an expert man whore.”

He chuckled and grabbed a jar of pickles. “First time I heard women need protecting from orgasms.”

She tilted her head. “Cocky, huh?”

He grinned. “No. Just honest.”

Riley refused to let her girly parts go all aquiver. “Or delusional,” she muttered.

His eyes lit with amusement. The man was infuriating. “So, tell me what really drove you to Kinnections?”

The wine loosened her tongue. Why hide the truth? She wasn’t ashamed. “I want to get married.”

His brow shot up. “We didn’t even have our blind date yet.”

“Not you. Kate was supposed to find me my perfect match. I have a detailed list of requirements, and I’m ready to settle down.” She prepped herself for his teasing, but he seemed to be thinking over her statement.

“Why now?”

“It’s time,” she said simply. “I spent the first half of my life focused on my goals and career and I don’t regret it. I gave up things, some opportunities that may have led to marriage and a family. I refuse to have regrets but my priorities shifted. I want a husband. Children.”

Dylan nodded. “I can understand that. You launched a successful business, but it takes everything you have. If you had settled too soon, things may not have worked out because you weren’t ready to commit completely.”

“Yes, exactly. But now I’m focused and know what I want.”

He added two pickles to the plates. “Give me the list.”

“So you can make fun of me? No way.”

“I won’t, promise. What’s the requirements?”

A nice hazy glow enveloped the stainless-steel kitchen. Why not? She didn’t care what he thought. “He has to have a secure job. I want to have a strong friendship first before we go into sex. He needs to want children, be trustworthy, dependable, intelligent, even tempered.”

“Even tempered?”

She glared. “Yes.”

Dylan cleared his throat. “You’ll eat him for breakfast and spit him out for dinner. Darlin’, you’re a hellcat. You need someone to stand up to you or you’ll get bored.”

She stabbed a finger at him. “I am not a hellcat! I never lose my temper with anyone but you. I need a companion, father, friend, and general helper to make a successful marriage.”

“What about sex?”

“That’s not important.”

He stared at her in astonishment. “It’s the basis of a relationship. Sex bonds two people together.”

“Sex doesn’t have to fit in the box.”

He frowned. “What box?”

She sipped more wine. “You know, the box. When you’re ready to settle down with someone and make a life together, it’s best to create a sort of mental box where that person can fit comfortably. The box needs to conform with your lifestyle so you’re both compatible. For instance, sex is nice but it doesn’t have to fit in the box. It’s pleasurable, but not necessary.”

Dylan reached for the wine and refilled his glass. “Now I need alcohol. You’ve managed to stump me with this one. Why didn’t I know about this box?”

“Because it’s my own creation,” she said stiffly. “Marriage isn’t easy. I don’t want to give up my business. I intend to hire more staff, work from home, and be more flexible. But my husband is going to also have to sacrifice, and it’s not always passion and games and romance. It’s brutal, hard work. And I want that. I want to be exhausted and happy with someone and wake up in the morning and do it all over again, knowing we wouldn’t choose differently. Now do you get it?”

“Sex has to be in the box.”

She glared. “It’s my damn box and I say sex isn’t in it. Sex can be in your box.”

“What if we have the same box?”

She almost choked on her wine. “We can never have the same box. We’re complete opposites.”

“Funny, I think we have a lot more in common than you think.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

“We both signed up with Kinnections for the same reason.” He cut the sandwiches in half, looked up, and grinned. “Let’s eat in the dining room.”

Still reeling from his remark, she grabbed her wine and slid off the stool. “You want to seriously get married?” She trotted after him. “I don’t believe you. You’re a billionaire, used to parties on yachts and impromptu vacations. You live in the land of the beautiful and fantastical. Domestic boredom and routine would freak you out and you’d run for the hills.”

“A complete illusion. You’re basing these assumptions on the boy I was ten years ago. Do you think you’re the same person from Cornell?”

“Well, no.”

“Neither am I. I come from a strong family background. My parents have been married for thirty-four years. I have two sisters, tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and it was always a rotating door of people visiting. My grandmother lived with us. When I got home from school, she’d make coffee and I’d sit in the kitchen with her and talk. She told me about my parents when they were young. They grew up together as friends, turned enemies as teens, and married in their early twenties. I know marriage isn’t easy because I see what they go through every day. I have no illusions. They run a successful empire so Dad has to travel. Mom gets lonely a lot. And my sister had a drug problem that almost tore us apart. But they love each other.”

Riley followed him into the dining room, fascinated by his story. He placed the plates down, turned, and met her gaze head-on. “They’re in it for the long haul, and by God, if that’s not romance and passion, I don’t know what it is. They have friendship, respect, and trust. But sex still needs to be in the box.”

Her head whirled. She opened her mouth to say something, then got struck by the magnificence of the dining room. “Holy crap. You do live in the Beast’s castle.”

The formalized area held a solid marble table over ten feet long—enough to fit King Arthur and all his knights. The runner gleamed gold and silver and spread the entire length. High-backed cushioned chairs spread around the table, and a vase filled with exotic blooms was set in the center. The dark wood floors were bare and held a polished shine. The walls were a soft dove gray and displayed an array of tapestries. A French door lined with burgundy velvet drapes led onto some type of balcony area.

Once again, there was a fireplace. Two candelabras of bronzed gold rested on the mantel. The scent of damp logs drifted in the air, along with the sound of crackling wood.

“Umm, Dylan? How many fireplaces does this place have?”

He tilted his head in thought. “About ten.”

“Riiiight.” She picked up her plate and placed herself at the head of the table. Why not? She felt like she’d slipped into a fairy tale anyway. Might as well play the part of Belle. His words still echoed in her head, making her heart beat wildly. To imagine Dylan settled down with a wife and family filled her with a sweet longing she didn’t understand. It couldn’t be true. Maybe he thought he wanted to settle down, but if so, why hadn’t he found his wife yet?

“How long have you been a client of Kinnections?” she asked.

He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed the candelabras. “Awhile.”

Aha. Now she’d prove the truth of his inability to hold down a long relationship. “But you still haven’t found who you’re looking for? Doesn’t that show you’re not ready to settle down?”

Dylan opened the china cabinet drawer and slid out a book of matches. “No. It proves I haven’t met her yet.”

“But you still trust Kate to find her?”

He swiped the match and struck a flame. Then began lighting the candles. “Yes. I’ve met many incredible women and enjoyed the dates. All owned traits I want, but none had the spark I’m looking for.”

She leaned forward, intrigued. “What spark?”

“The spark of connection. That unknown quality that screams in your gut when something’s wrong and something’s right. I can usually tell from the first date, so I don’t waste their time.”

Riley shook her head in amazement. “No. Way. Dating services hook you up by determining similar interests that fit. You’re telling me the most important thing to you for picking your life mate is an unknown, mystical, magical spark?”

Dylan replaced the vase of flowers with the candles. He took the chair on the opposite end of the table and picked up his sandwich. “Correct.”

Annoyance surged. He couldn’t do that. It was a ridiculous way to decide on marrying somebody and made no sense. Of course, Dylan McCray never made sense. Why should she expect anything else?

But a strange longing curled in her belly and bloomed heat beyond. What was wrong with her? Yes, he was hot as Hades and oozed sex like a weapon. Yes, he was funny and witty and intelligent. But he would never fit in her box.

Ever.

“Why are you lighting candles like we’re about to welcome more guests? A bit much, don’t you think?”

“Let’s just say we’ll probably need it.”

She sighed and dug into the turkey. The moistness of the meat on thick rye bread held the perfect texture and taste. He’d used just enough salt to create a nice bite. So good. Eating turkey sandwiches in such a formal room, with the fire crackling, snow falling, and flickering candlelight was kind of cool. Romantic, even. She bet the woman Dylan picked would have a life full of surprises, sharp turns, and excitement. Exactly what she didn’t want.

Exactly.

As if he heard her thoughts, he spoke up. “Why do you think we’re so different?”

Riley snorted and rolled her eyes for double effect. “Duh. Don’t you remember Cornell? We drove each other nuts. I’m a planner. I’d be early to class, you were late. I did all my homework, you got people to do it for you.”

“I object.”

“Overruled. You partied. I studied. You messed up the dorm and made it disgusting. I cleaned it up. Opposites.”

As usual, the air charged and energy surged between them. It reminded her of a hurricane wind: warm, seductive, but insanely brutal and strong.

“I think we’re the same but approach our goals differently,” Dylan said. “You’re more of a take-charge, steam-ahead type. You use fact gathering, drive, and sheer will to race ahead of the pack and stay there. Contrary to your low opinion of me, I never inherited McCray Tech. My father told me straight out I wouldn’t get a piece of the company just because I had his name. To do that, I needed to carry my weight. That’s why I enrolled in Cornell. At graduation, I started from the bottom and worked my way up, which took many years. Only recently have I been officially put on as a legal partner.”

Another assumption blown to crap. How was this possible? “But you never studied in college! You never cared about impressing teachers, or acing exams. Partying was your real major. I saw you!”

“Did you?” He dropped his voice. “Maybe you weren’t looking too hard.”

“I never had to look, Dylan. You made it obvious to the entire campus you weren’t interested in academics.”

“Yet I got the same GPA as you.”

She clenched her wineglass and took another slug. The fact always pissed her off. “I never understood how you managed that.”

“I intended to enjoy myself at Cornell, because I knew once I stepped into the business the real partying was over. But I was as serious about my grades as you. I just hid it better.”

“How?” she demanded.

His lips twitched. “I don’t need much sleep—never have. Four hours is my maximum, I’m just built that way. I studied at night. I also have a photographic memory, so remembering facts and figures is easy. Lucky, I know, but I used it to my advantage.”

She wanted to challenge him but he told the truth. She could tell. He’d always been smart, but had she really thought he’d be able to pull off a 4.0 by doing nothing? From one executive to another, she grudgingly had to admit he built his success on his own. Would his father really let him inherit his company if he didn’t trust Dylan to run it? Probably not. And she bet he deserved it by working his ass off.

Just like her.

Ah, crap. She’d been kind of a bitch. Riley placed her glass down and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I never knew. You hid it so well.”

She waited for his sarcastic retort, but instead he dipped his head, as if bestowing his forgiveness. A stray white-blond strand fell over his brow. His lips curved in a smile. “Apology accepted. I did love my man whore, party animal reputation.”

She smiled back. Warmth traveled from between her thighs, up her belly, and flushed her neck. Damn, the fire was getting hot. How was the man able to steal the oxygen in a room just by his sexiness?

They stared at one another for a few moments until finally, he bit into his pickle with straight white teeth. She imagined those teeth nibbling on parts of her body, so she had to down more wine.

“Now that we solved that issue, what other things don’t we have in common?” he asked.

She shrugged. “We fight, of course. Fighting is definitely not in my box. I want my spouse to respect my opinions, be calm in all situations, and have patience to think things through a logical sequence before making a decision.” She was quite proud of her speech, so when he burst into laughter she wanted to climb over the table and hit him.

“Couples fight, Riley. Life would be pretty dull and boring if no one stood up for their opinions, or completely succumbed to their partner.”

“Oh, please. Have you ever been trapped at dinner with a couple who fights? They pick at everything the other does, and you’re so uncomfortable you want to die. Last time that happened I had to skip dessert, and I never skip dessert. I don’t want that type of tension in my marriage.”

“We’re talking about a different type of fighting. Take us, for example.”

“What about us? We fight all the time.”

He reached for his wine and swirled it around, as if contemplating the burgundy liquid gave him all the answers. “It’s different,” he said again. “You challenged me in school. Forced me to defend my beliefs. Made me reach deeper to really examine things, whether it be a business solution or an ethical issue or an opinion. You also pushed me to do better. I have respect for you. I enjoy the fighting, because there’s something going on beneath it. Make sense?”

Wow. The words brought a warm glow, but she shook her head. “I disagree. Can you imagine if we were together and had a difference of opinion on everything? That’s exhausting and detrimental to a healthy relationship.”

“After one of our fights, did you ever feel damaged by my words? Disrespected? Undermined?”

“No. Just majorly pissed off.”

He grinned. “Me, too. I’m just saying there’s different levels of fighting, and ours is more of a part of communicating. Sure, we each got in a jibe now and then, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

Riley went over the endless incidents, battles, and arguments that made up her years at Cornell. Funny, she never really thought of it like that. But when she stormed off, she was more aggravated he wouldn’t do what she wanted. He never took potshots, or bullied, or ever made her cry. Huh. Weird. In a way, it was almost like . . .

Foreplay.

Her eyes widened.

She couldn’t stop looking at those lips, wondering if they’d feel the same or she’d be in for a huge disappointment. After all, it was a decade ago, and she’d changed. So had he. Innocence and illusions were gone. The kiss had probably been blown up in her memory as something untouchable. Right?

“Do you believe me, Riley?” His voice caressed her name in a low, deep rumble. Her breath hitched, and suddenly she was burning up in her chair, desperate to touch him.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Those beastly erotic eyes burned across the table and held her captive. “You know a lot of fighting is well documented to be an indicator of repressed sexual attraction.”

Usually she’d treat him to a withering remark, or a derisive snort. Instead, her tongue remained glued to the roof of her mouth. She sat helplessly still in her chair, unable to move.

Because he was right.

There was some type of attraction between them. Maybe lust. He may not be suited to be her husband, or fit in her box, but Dylan McCray made her want. Bad things. Dirty things.

They were stuck together overnight, while a blizzard raged outside. She was a bit tipsy from the wine. They dined in a gorgeous room with a cozy fire. All the pieces slid together, and in that one blinding instant, she wanted to give herself this one night. If she offered, would he take her up on it? Was every step of banter up to now leading to this?

One night of reckless passion and abandonment. Her skin tingled from the thought. Did she dare? Her mind spun with the possibilities, caught on the precipice of impulse and reasoning, and then the final, irrevocable element locked in her decision.

The lights went out.

chapter 5

Something was happening.

The lights snuffed out and Dylan was left in the dark, sporting a mental fog and a massive erection. She completely entranced him with her quick-witted dialogue, more intoxicating than whiskey and more of a turn-on than a Sports Illustrated cover model.

The memory of her as a young girl was a faint shimmer of the woman she’d become. Magnificent. How many dates had he been on and been disappointed? Too many to count. Always needing more . . . wanting more . . . yet not able to figure out what the elusive element was.

Until now.

Riley was spit and vinegar, smart and sassy, and he wanted her. Under him. Over him. In his house, and his bed.

Tonight.

Dylan finally managed to speak. “Guess those candles were a good idea after all.”

Her husky laugh stroked his ears and other places. Shadows fell on the wall and played. Her silhouette from the fire and candlelight illuminated her in a fiery glow. The thoughts of what he wanted to do with her, to her, made his gut clench and his dick stretch uncomfortably against his jeans. Now he just had to convince her to play.

Dylan rose, taking one of the candelabras to the other end of the table. “Are you okay?”

She tilted her head. God, she was beautiful. The burgundy in her hair, the soft violet of her eyes, the redness of her lips. The deep V neck of her sweater tempted him to taste the tender flesh there, pull down her sweater to bare her breasts. Suck and bite her nipples until she grabbed his shoulders and cried out his name.

She seemed to catch the vibe in the air and trembled. So close. Her barriers were shifting, opening, allowing just a tiny access point where he intended to jump right in. Timing was everything.

Yes, she was just as aware of him as he was of her. They’d always had a strange physical chemistry that battled with their verbal and mental clashes. Maybe that’s what made it so damn hot.

“For being trapped in spook mansion with no lights in a blizzard? I’m peachy.”

“I have a backup generator. Need to go put it on.”

She stretched out her legs with a languorous air and propped one elbow on the table. “I don’t know. It sets the mood.”

Dylan stiffened. Was she flirting? He’d planned on trying to seduce her, but Riley Fox always seemed to switch things up. He got off on trying to anticipate her next move. “Mood, huh? We spoke about everything else. Maybe it’s time we talked about the kiss.”

Ah, he’d managed to surprise her. His skin tingled with anticipation. They’d been dancing around each other all night, and it was finally time to get honest. The tension tightened a notch. Her scent enveloped him in a mix of exotic musk and a touch of jasmine—kick-ass and powerful—and not the least bit subtle. Just how he liked it.

He wanted her. There was a reason she was trapped in his house on the night of a blizzard. Kinnections had matched them. It was a sign, and he’d spent most of his life listening to his gut to balance the logic in his head. Too much logic and control caused mistakes. Too much impulse and freedom caused sloppiness.

Balance equaled success.

Riley had it all along or she’d never been able to build her business. Somewhere on her journey, she trusted her gut to make bold decisions that didn’t make sense on paper. He knew well the ugliness out in the world when dealing with money and power, and no one came away without disillusions. She’d taken hers and made herself stronger. Every part of her fascinated him, and he intended to plumb the depths tonight.

She tapped a finger against her glass. “Surprised you remembered.”

“What if I told you I still dream about that kiss?”

“I’d say I barely put a blip on your radar. You were always happy to move on to the next pretty face and good set of boobs.”

“You’re right. I was too young, raw, and ambitious. I wanted to savor every flavor life threw at me, suck the nectar dry, and have no regrets. And I don’t, Riley. Except for one.”

“What?”

Without breaking her gaze, he dropped in front of her, his hand resting lightly on her knee. Slowly, he parted her legs and knelt between them. Her harsh indrawn breath drifted to his ears in a symphony. Dylan reached out and grabbed a tendril of hair, sliding it between his fingers from root to tip, enjoying the feel of raw silk wrapping itself around him in a tight bind. The thought of her gorgeous hair wrapping around his dick as she pleasured him made a low groan rumble from his throat.

“You,” he said simply.

Shock mingled with an arousal she couldn’t hide, evident in her wide eyes, the tightening of her nipples, the way she squeezed her thighs together mercilessly, as if desperate to keep him from scenting the truth. Dylan bet if he slipped his hand beneath her panties he’d find her wet and willing to do whatever he wanted. The key was getting her mind on board with her very delectable, sensual body.

He sunk both hands into her hair, holding her firmly at the nape of her neck. “That kiss haunted me. Do you know how many times I jerked off to just the memory of your lips over mine, your taste against my tongue? How badly I ached to lay you naked on my bed and take everything you’d give me? Bring you so much pleasure you’d scream and beg me to stop? To continue? To fuck you so thoroughly there’s not another man on the planet you’d be able to touch without thinking of me?”

A shudder wracked her body. He waited for her reaction. Would it be retreat? A scathing remark meant to barb and push? A flirtatious, frustrating cat-and-mouse game?

Instead of retreat, she leaned in, so her breath struck softly against his lips. The heat between them pulled and tantalized. Dylan clawed for control, when all he wanted was to take her mouth, strip her naked, and see how many orgasms it would take to finally get her to surrender. He hoped a lot. He planned on it.

“What makes you so sure I remember it?” she drawled against his mouth.

His dick wept for mercy. The primitive male in him roared to take her and show her the truth. Instead, with an inch between their lips, he smiled real slow.

“I’m betting you thought about that kiss, too. Late at night. Under the covers. Wet and aching for me. Let’s finish what we started. Let me take you to my bed.”

In his wettest, wildest imagination, Dylan never would’ve believed the woman could raise the stakes so high and so fast. Yet, in typical fashion, she managed to blow him away.

Her voice was a husky whisper of smoke and temptation. “Why? I see a perfectly good table in front of you.” His hands tightened brutally in her hair. “Do you have the guts to use it?”

Dylan waited a full beat. Two.

Then slammed his mouth over hers.

The world tumbled in slow motion, then stopped for a brief moment. Her blood rushed in her veins, wetness seeped between her thighs, her pulse pounded with a mad glee, and then he kissed her and it was all over.

She was lost.

A low moan ripped from her throat at contact and his tongue plunged deep. Completely raw, with little finesse and all dark hunger, he invaded her mouth.

The past and present blurred together, but this time, there was no retreat. Meeting him halfway, their tongues tangled and fought in a sensual dual she was happy to lose. He claimed and plundered, pressing her back over the chair until she was stretched out and he loomed over her. His other hand cupped her breast, flicking the tight bud of her nipple. She gripped his shoulders and arched against him, asking for more, and without breaking the kiss, his hand slipped underneath the V neck, under the lace of her bra, and hit bare skin.

Oh, God. It felt so good, his fingers tweaking, causing a lightning bolt to hit straight to her clit, which was so full and desperate for pressure. Never had her body lit up so fast, with just a kiss and simple touch. Usually it took awhile for foreplay to get her going, but holy crap, she was going to come right now if she could just lift her hips a bit and rub—

“Don’t think so, my little hellcat.” He murmured the words against her lips, pausing to bite, then suck. “I waited ten years to have you. I’m not letting you get off on a quick rub in the chair.”

She should be completely embarrassed, but Riley was beyond caring how she got there. She wasn’t into casual sex or one-night stands—she was on the hunt for a husband. But right now, tonight, the need in her body hurt too much. Her hunger reached beyond any type of rationality. Riley craved the hard fall of the unknown, living the fantasy of becoming his lover for one night. Plenty of time to restock and get her plan back in order tomorrow. She tugged harder, trying to lift her ass higher. “You win. I want you.”

He chuckled low and dirty. “Oh, baby, you’re still gonna pay.”

Shivers raced down her spine. He teased her nipple, flicking it back and forth, until it was so taut and swollen she knew one swipe of his tongue could take care of the agony. “I didn’t do anything.”

He broke the kiss and looked deep in her eyes. “You did everything. You just don’t know it yet.”

The words made no sense, but he gave her no time to ponder. He lifted her up and pressed her down on the dining room table. With deft motions, he moved the empty plates and her wineglass. Her legs dangled over the side, her back supported by the marble. Riley waited for the frantic pull of clothes, the feel of skin on skin, the mad rush toward orgasm that usually accompanied a passionate encounter. Instead, he towered over her at the edge. With his exotic, simmering gaze trained on hers, Dylan smiled, telling her immediately he was in no rush.

Oh, God, he was going to kill her.

He toed off his shoes and pulled off his sweater with one easy motion. His skin gleamed in the firelight, a beautiful golden brown, with well-defined pecs and biceps. A line of light hair traveled down washboard abs and disappeared into his jeans. Her fingers fisted to unsnap, rip them off, and feast. Riley was just about to jump him when he moved out of reach.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

He grabbed one of the candles and disappeared, coming back with a few wrapped packages he placed beside him. Oh yeah. Condoms. Thank God he remembered, because her mind had become putty, just like her body.

Without a word, he pulled off each of her boots, rubbing her foot through the stockings in a slow massage. As he pressed into her instep, she swallowed a moan and kicked her leg a bit so he’d get on with the more important parts. Her body throbbed for relief, but he took his time with each foot, then gently let them sway back, dangling in midair.

“Dylan?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Umm, we started at a good pace there, but things have slowed.”

A glint of white teeth flashed. “Ever hear the motto ‘it’s all in the journey and not the destination’?”

“Yeah. I always thought that was bullshit.” She scooted an inch down and wiggled her hips. “Getting to goal is a good thing.” The thought of a mind-blowing orgasm with her secret fantasy had all her circuits firing. She enjoyed sex, but found her mind was way too involved, so she did best with a quick, intense session that got her to climax. Riley had accepted her limitations and issues a long time ago, and though many times she wished to be less complicated, she also realized it was easier to accept and move on than try and fight her natural inclinations.

“What if I told you I intend to change your mind?” He played with her ankle, slipping his fingers under her pants and rubbing her calf. Damn, the man could’ve been a massage therapist and made a million. Her muscles flexed while he kneaded, then caressed the back of her knee. Bolts of pleasure streaked through her. “What if I told you I don’t intend to let you get to goal until you’re begging me?”

Uh, yeah. Good try. But she was so hot right now, as soon as he got close for any friction she’d take care of herself. Besides, he didn’t know about her issues of nonstop mental chatter. Still, she smiled. “I’d say good luck.”

His grin was very smug and very male. A shiver of warning trickled down her spine. She’d never begged for anything in her life, especially for a man to satisfy her. She didn’t intend to start now.

Dylan leaned over and skated both hands higher, pausing right underneath her thighs. He squeezed hard, and her hips lifted unconsciously. “I’m going to love every moment of this.” With one deft movement, he gripped the material of her pants and pulled them off her. The white lace of her panties was already past damp, but when she tried to close her legs an inch, he lifted her legs high and placed them on the edge of the table. Far apart.

Riley sucked in a breath, feeling exposed everywhere. His hot gaze took in every inch of her skin, lingering on her most private parts, until a secret thrill began to build. Something dark and dirty stirred to life. A man never took the time to study her body with such razor intent, as if dying to ravish, taste, mate. She trembled, not knowing what to do with the crazy feelings beginning to surge.

“So pretty,” he murmured, tracing one index finger over the elastic, skimming over the front so she struggled to remain still. “So wet. But not enough. Not yet.”

His talk shocked her. Men didn’t talk . . . like that. Did they? And why did she like it? Dylan leaned over, and she released a sigh, waiting for the final barrier to be off and feel him inside her.

Instead, he lowered his mouth and pressed kisses over her thighs with a leisurely intent that told her he was in no rush. His tongue lashed out at her, tasting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, knee, calves, and slowly back up. Her mind spun and grabbed for purchase, but there was no logic. She tried to grab his head and urge him upward, but he ignored her. A nibble here, a lick there; his hands consistently roved, pushing up her sweater and dipping into her belly button, squeezing her hips, playing with the damn elastic of her panties until a whimper broke from her lips.

Finally, he inched his way back up. The heat of his skin burned into hers, and with the same easy pace, he pushed up the sweater, propped her up, and guided it over her head.

“You taste like I imagined. Exotic. Sweet.”

Her voice sounded like sandpaper. “Orange blossom body lotion.”

“And jasmine.”

“Yes, that’s in there, too. Dylan, what are you doing?” Her eyes begged him to give her the orgasm and stop the torture, but the wicked grin that tugged at his lips told her he had other plans.

“Everything. By the time I taste your pussy, you’ll beg me to let you come against my tongue. And I’ll demand it, Riley. Every last bit of it is mine.”

Filthy. Words like this had never been spoken to her, but she grew wetter, and her skin itched with such sensitivity she rolled back and forth in an effort to soothe. He laughed, cupping her breasts through the sheer white lace that matched her panties. Her nipples were already hard and aching, desperate to be released from their prison, but he just dipped his head and began licking her through the material, scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub again and again until a low scream built at the back of her throat. His erection behind his jeans seemed massive, pressed against her swollen core, and she half lifted to press against him. His teeth nipped sharply against her nipple and she cried out. The pain lashed and turned to excruciating pleasure, forcing her head to thrash back and forth. Too much. It was all too much.

“I can’t do this,” she moaned. “It’s taking too long.”

Dylan unsnapped her bra and cupped her bare breasts, lifting them up to his mouth. “It’s never enough. Not for you. Don’t know what dickheads you’ve been with, but ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ is not your style.”

“Yes! It is!”

His lips closed around her nipple and he sucked. She held on to him in a fierce grip, arched upward, burning alive to satisfy the ache between her legs and the need for this man to take all of her, any way he wanted, over and over and over.

“Open your mouth for me, Riley.” His eyes seethed with demand and lust. “Now.”

His tongue surged between her lips and she almost wept with the pleasure. He plundered every last secret, then softened the pressure so he could play. The dual effects of hard and soft, rough and gentle, slow and fast, broke down her mental barriers and left her with nothing.

Just freedom.

By the time he broke the kiss and moved his way back down her body, Riley was ready to surrender. “Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Better. You’re almost there.” He tugged off her panties and laid her bare for his gaze. “Do you know how long I fantasized about tasting you here?” He dragged a finger over her dripping slit, lightly playing on her clit, and Riley writhed with a dark need to let him do anything. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes!”

“Ask me, Riley. Beg me.”

“P-p-please kiss me there.”

“Where?”

Shame burned within but she was past caring. “Please kiss my pussy. Please lick me.”

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, you were made for this. For me.” He cupped her ass and lifted her up for his mouth. The first wet swipe of his tongue caused a long wail to escape her lips. He avoided her clit, once again taking his time, murmuring terrible, dirty words about her pussy, curling two fingers and plunging inside her at the same time he licked her clit, so lightly and gently Riley felt the last of her sanity shred.

“Dylan, please! I need—I’m begging!”

Without hesitation, he increased the pressure and pounded three fingers into her weeping channel.

She came apart.

The climax tore through her, stole her breath, and ripped her to pieces. She screamed and bucked beneath him, but he never stopped, dragging the pleasure on and on until she was a shivering, trembling mass of exposed nerves.

Riley collapsed, boneless. The hiss of a zipper cut to her ears. The rip of a wrapper. And then he was dragging her down the length of the table, her legs spread wide, feet propped high on his shoulders, completely open to anything he wanted to do.

His cock paused at her entrance. Pushed in an inch. Another. Slowly, he filled her completely, taking everything she had without apology. She stretched to accommodate him, relishing the tightness, and when he was buried deep within her, he interweaved his fingers with hers.

His voice broke. “It’s you. Why didn’t I realize? It’s always been you.”

She had no time to process the words or their meaning. He withdrew all the way, then slammed himself fully back, sheathing his throbbing dick to the hilt. Again. Again. Again.

The ride was wild, long, choppy, thrilling. The second climax shimmered just out of reach, the feeling of him taking over her body, his hips working in a primitive dance, sweat drenching their skin, over and over until—

Riley broke apart, dimly noting him following her over the edge. She gripped his hands as her only anchor, his weight pressing her against the table, until they collapsed.

She closed her eyes.

Her mind was completely and blissfully empty.

chapter 6

Had he died? Nope, his body ached a bit. He was getting older and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex on a table. Of course, he’d never be able to eat here again without thinking of her.

Her voice drifted to his ears. “That may have been worth the ten-year wait.”

Dylan chuckled and nibbled on her neck. So sweet. She was still shaking slightly from the string of orgasms, making him want to do the whole thing over again. And again. “Brat. Is sex back in the box?” He eased off of her and disposed of the condom.

“No. I told you it can’t be.”

“Foreplay? Oral?”

She gave him that adorable glare that always turned him on. “That’s included with sex.”

He turned to go stoke the fire. Curious, he wondered what else she thought she had to have in a husband. So far, her list was way off. She’d destroy a mild-mannered accountant who did anything she said. Dylan shuddered just at the thought. She bored without a challenge, and to him, love and marriage and kids was the ultimate goal to conquer.

“Tell me what else you see happening in this fictitious perfect future of yours?” he asked.

She eased to a sitting position, her naked body a gorgeous silhouette. “So you can make fun of me? Hell no.”

He threw up a hand in a Boy Scout gesture. “Promise not to make fun.”

Her lower lip jutted out in a hint of a sulk. He walked back over and kissed it off her, until her hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in hard. Damned if she wasn’t making him hard again.

“Fine. I’m going to sew all my children’s clothes. And knit. I’ll make the afghans and do little booties for the boy and two girls I’ll have.”

He stared at her and waited for the punch line. Never got one. A wild laugh scratched at his chest, dying to escape, but he battled it back. Barely. “You told me you flunked home economics in high school. You hated it, Riley. You’d go apeshit if you tried to sew.”

She gasped and pointed her finger at him. “See! I told you! I’m going to like it this time. Crochet is in my box. And my husband is going to do all the maintenance around the house. Mow the lawn, fix the plumbing, maybe help build an addition.”

He pressed his lips together. His eyes began to tear. “Don’t you make a crap load of money?”

Her brows knitted in a frown. “So?”

“Why the hell does he have to do that shit if you can hire out? Aren’t you going to be running Chic Publishing? You gonna take up yoga next?”

Her stony silence was answer enough.

No. Fucking. Way. With her temper? She used to tell him that sitting still with her own thoughts for too long made her want to jump off a cliff. Riley had boundless energy, was a classic multitasker, and craved multiple goals and projects going on simultaneously. This time he couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. “You’re nuts. I’ll pay to see you try and sit cross-legged and be quiet for five minutes. Hell, one minute and you’ll be opening your mouth to speak.”

She jumped off the table and pushed him. “Yoga is in my box! I want to bring a measured, balanced energy into my life, and yoga is the key.”

Dylan wiped at his eyes. “Sure, darlin’. I just think it would be easier if you recognize your true personality and find someone who will fit, rather than try to change. Like me. I bet I’d fit in your box. That’s the reason Kinnections matched us.”

She sucked in her breath. “Not possible. Especially if you’re not on board with knitting, yoga, and friendship before sex.”

He couldn’t help it. She was so damn cute when she got riled up. He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard and deep and long, until she grew quiet and malleable. His blood sung and roared in victory. He was the only one able to tame Riley Fox. Now he had to prove it to her before the morning came.

“I’m going to turn on the generator so we can get the lights back on. Stay here. And don’t put on clothes.”

With one last kiss, he grabbed a candle and went out to the hallway. He took the staircase down to the control room, then after a few minutes got the generator running. The lights flicked on and he came back upstairs, ready to go for round two and three with the woman who had exploded back into his life.

She was wrapped in the dining room runner.

The gold and silver covering made her look like a yummy Christmas gift ready to open. Seeing her in full light—the rich texture of her hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft, flawless skin, the plump, swollen lips—took his breath away.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. A slight flush traveled over her cheeks and upper chest. “Why are you wearing a tablecloth?”

Those extraordinary eyes narrowed and sparked. She spoke with pure haughtiness. “Because I don’t do naked.”

He gave a wolfish grin. “Covering you up should be a crime. I’ll have to convince you.”

He came forward but she jumped back, her hands clasping the edge of the runner. “No! I mean it, Dylan, I refuse to be so uncivilized.”

Amusement cut through him. She was so much fun. “Is this also in the box? Civilization and covering up what I just touched and tasted?”

Her composure never faltered. “Correct. I should’ve never told you about my box.”

“Suit yourself, darlin’. Come on, I want to show you something.” He stalked over to French doors and pulled back the heavy curtain. He felt her glare at his bare back, but also knew she was staring at his ass and enjoying the view.

“What about you?” she practically squealed. “You need clothes.”

He arched a brow. “I’m comfortable being naked. Do you have a problem with that?”

He noted the high flush of her cheeks and the hungry stare. Oh yeah, he had her good. “Yes, I do,” she said primly. “I can’t concentrate.”

Dylan winked. “I don’t want you to concentrate. Now get your gorgeous behind over here.”

“Fine.” She huffed out an annoyed breath and stomped over in her bare feet. The elegant cloth trailed behind her like a queen’s robe. Dylan unlocked and pulled open the French doors. He tucked her into his chest, then she leaned forward and peered out over the balcony.

Then gasped.

It was sheer magic. A winter wonderland children dreamed of. His home sat on top of the mountain with the perfect view overlooking Rinker’s Park. Pine and evergreen trees flanked the entire skating rink and edged the park, encrusted with thick layers of ice. Fat flakes fell down slow upon the scene. The skating rink could be seen in the distance, safely covered by the roof, and the painted horses in the elaborate carousel looked frozen in time. White icicle lights wrapped around the park and twisted through the trees.

This was the reason he’d bought the park. Besides the privacy he desperately needed, and his love for living in a natural isolation, there was something about the place that brought back an elemental piece of innocence left behind. It made Dylan remember what was important, what he wanted from life, and the constant struggle for balance. For a little while, overlooking the scene with the snow and fire behind him, with Riley held in his arms, he reached perfection.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, as if not wanting to break the spell. “And this is all yours?”

“Yes.” Pride rang through his voice. “It’s mine.”

She shivered in the wind, but he felt nothing but the burning heat of her skin against his. The surge of possession rose through him like a tsunami and crashed. He practically shook with need for her again. To claim, push, torment, pleasure. Half dazed with want, he turned toward her and lowered his mouth to hers.

Damn the man.

How could she enjoy the view or think about anything except how good he looked naked? His body was spectacular, from the dusting of golden hair, toasty skin, lithe muscles, and the hard, taut muscles of his ass flexing as he walked. He wore his nakedness like his clothes, confident, comfortable, and a screw-you attitude if you didn’t like it.

There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t like it.

Need overcame her. She shuddered with raw emotion, feeling as if she wanted to climb inside him and experience everything he had to give. When he kissed her, she surrendered. Sliding her arms up around his shoulders, he pulled her in for more, gently sipping from her lips and then pushing his tongue inside to deepen the kiss. Riley floated, anchored to Earth by only him, and wondered if this night would ruin her forever.

He broke away, breathing hard. His eyes flashed with hunger. “I need you again.”

Riley didn’t answer. Just held on tight when he scooped her up and strode up the stairs and into his bedroom. She caught the barest glimpse of a huge sleigh bed, dark wood, thick carpet, and another fireplace before he stripped the tablecloth off her and pulled her in tight. They were gloriously naked, breast to chest, hip to thigh, mouth to mouth.

They feasted on each other, hands exploring, tongues tangling, until his very breath and taste and scent was imprinted not only on her body but on her soul. When she sank to her knees in front of him, taking him fully in her mouth, he groaned with an animal wildness that spoke to that hidden place in her. Crazed with the need to make him lose all control, she cupped him, stroking his steely length, running her teeth gently down the front of his cock. Dylan chanted her name, hands fisted in her hair, and when he finally released, she took all of him, milking out his orgasm until he shuddered under her, completely surrendering.

Riley waited for a normal recovery time, but he pushed her to all fours on the bed, fit himself with a condom, and began gently rocking his partial erection against her wet core. Riley groaned, pushing back, but he was back under control. Teasing her with his cock, he played with her breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard and swollen. Sinking in a few inches deeper, he moved his hands lower, stroking her belly, clit, labia, giving her a little bit more of him at a slow, steady pace.

The relentless pressure of her oncoming orgasm made her his slave. She begged, rocked her hips, desperate for him to claim her completely, and as if he realized what she needed, he grasped her hips hard and slammed into her.

Riley cried out at the exquisite fullness. Keeping a brutal, fast pace, he took her with a savagery that engulfed her, as if desperate to mark her again as his, and she reveled in the knowledge that their lovemaking wasn’t close to being pretty, or elegant, or surface, but a give and take of basic, primal needs and wants that ripped away all civility.

Her skin bruised under his grip; her fingers ached as they twisted into the mattress; her muscles screamed with use. None of it mattered in the drive for release, and when his fingers finally slipped over her clit to pinch hard and release, she went over the edge.

A sob caught in her throat as everything inside of her emptied out and shattered. He was there to hold her when she collapsed, murmuring tender, nonsensical words in her ear as she came down from the wicked heights of pleasure, and for that one instant she knew she was safe.

Time had no meaning. Was it seconds? Hours? Finally, he rolled over, kissing her temple, pushing back her hair, and whispered in her ear.

“Are you ready?”

She groaned. No way. Riley couldn’t have another orgasm—she’d die. She shook her head. “No.”

“I’m taking you anyway.”

“I need a nap. A rest.” She pushed weakly against his chest.

“Such a dirty mind. I’m taking you somewhere else.”

“Where?”

His grin was wolfish and wicked and sexy as hell.

“Skating.”

chapter 7

He loved the way she blinked with a heavy languor and stretched out, her glorious body free from covers and open to his gaze. She practically purred with satisfaction, and the fact he gave it to her made him feel like Rocky fucking Balboa.

“I don’t understand.”

His lips twitched. “I’m taking you ice-skating. Come on, I have another set of snow pants and ski jacket.”

Those swollen lips pursed in a pout. “Outside? There’s a blizzard in case you’ve forgotten.” The ping of ice pellets against the windows tinkled in the air. Dylan pressed a kiss to her forehead and got up.

“Good, that’s the best time to see it.”

She shook her head, all that dark messy hair swinging over her bare shoulders. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem very reasonable.” She tried to crawl back under the blanket. “I already saw the rink from the balcony.”

He laughed and reached over her, sliding out the bureau drawer. “I think you need a bit of motivation.”

“That type of motivation will keep me from walking normal tomorrow.”

“Hmm, you really do have a filthy mind. As much as I’d love to take up the challenge, I was thinking more of sugar.”

Riley peeked from under the sheets. “Sugar?”

He slid out a king-size, bittersweet dark chocolate bar and peeled back the foil. Then broke off a square. “Open up.” A shudder wracked her body. Her lips parted and he placed the chocolate on her tongue. He watched as she moaned and half closed her eyes in pleasure. Damn, the woman was so sensual. “Good?”

“Heaven. I shouldn’t be surprised you keep chocolate in the bureau. You used to hoard those snack-size Hershey’s bars. I still remember cleaning up endless wrappers in the dorm.”

He shrugged and popped a square into his mouth. “Never know when you’ll need a lift. Worked for us. Do you still eat buckets of Lucky Charms when you’re stressed?”

She stared at him with surprise. “You remember that?”

“Of course. I’d find those little bags filled with cereal around finals. You always ate the marshmallows first.”

“They’re the best part.”

They finished eating in satisfying silence. When she was done, he carefully rewrapped the bar and stuck it back in the drawer. A tiny smear of melted chocolate stuck to her lip. Dylan leaned over and kissed her, swiping the last of the sweetness on his tongue. She felt so soft and warm and willing in his arms, as if she’d always belonged there. He pulled away with regret. “Now we’re ready.” He ignored her groan, walked to the closet, and began pulling out items. “I promise it will be worth it.”

She grumbled under her breath, but he caught her half smile.

He threw a few items onto the bed and donned a pair of snow pants and a thermal shirt. “Make sure you put on the socks to keep your feet warm. Be right back.”

Feeling like a kid on Christmas, he went downstairs to the basement and took the tunnel to the mechanics room. He spent a few minutes turning on the switches and setting things up. After carefully checking all circuits, he headed back to the main house and his bedroom.

She was dressed and ready to go. Those violet eyes brimmed with curiosity, but she crossed her arms in front of the overly large jacket. “I feel like a stuffed sausage. Have I told you I’m not crazy about surprises or impulsive decisions?”

“Another item that should be in the box. You need a man to challenge you. Push boundaries. Urge you to try new things.”

“I don’t think I like skating,” she grumbled.

Damn, she looked cute. His clothes swallowed her up, but she’d be warm and dry, which was the goal. “You will. Let’s go.”

She clomped behind him in too-heavy boots, and he led her downstairs, through the darkened hallways in the secret tunnel, his gloved hand firmly enclosing hers. “Dude, if I didn’t trust you this whole thing would reek of a B horror movie set.”

“Nothing to worry about. I already ripped your clothes off and ravished you.”

“Oh yeah, cool.”

The door opened. Massive machinery hummed and buzzed, but Dylan didn’t pause. Finally, they stepped outside onto a large open terrace that was barely lit.

The whip of the wind scratched like icy fingernails against his cheeks. They ducked their heads and he increased the pace. “Just a little more.”

“It’s cold! There must be a foot already out here and it’s still not stopping. Dylan, maybe we could dump this plan and drink some hot cocoa without our clothes again because this is a bit— Oh my God.”

She stopped short. He took in the scene before him with full satisfaction. Yes. This was the reason he’d bought the park. This was what he needed to show her.

The bare trees lined the view of the hills and set off the large circular skating rink as if cradled between mother nature’s hands. Endless white lights twinkled in a vision of blinding light, twisted in the branches. A large Christmas tree gaily decorated stood in the center, a miniature version of Rockefeller Center. Christmas carols streamed from the speakers. Soft, pure white blanketed every spare inch of ground, and crusted ice threw out a thousand rays of light, like a diamond showing off in all its glory. An elaborate roof covered the main rink and gates around it, protecting the precious ice from any type of weather conditions and allowing patrons to use it during inclement weather. Sure, it cost a bundle, but Dylan believed it was worth it. He saved so much on maintenance by not needing twenty-four-hour crews keeping the rink cleaned during storms or regular snowfall.

She squeezed his fingers and her voice came out in a husky whisper. “I feel like I’m in Frozen.”

“Hmm. Not that you watch children’s movies.”

“It also won an Academy Award. Now be quiet or I’ll punish you by singing Let It Go.”

“Let’s not be hasty.” He smiled. “This is why I bought Rinker’s Park. When you visit, you believe in something bigger, something beautiful. Don’t we all need that?”

When she turned to look at him, a shift occurred. He held his breath, recognizing the crumbling of a barrier between them; recognizing the naked emotion in her eyes as confirmation. Dylan leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her trembling lips. Then smiled.

“Let’s skate.”

They needed to hike through mounds of snow to get to the gallery where he housed the skates and equipment. She fell a few times, muttering under her breath about his crazy-ass ideas, and hung on to his hand as he dragged her through thigh-high powder. Dylan quickly fitted them with skates and led her onto the rink.

He tamped down the laughter for the first twenty minutes. Besides grabbing on to the rail and refusing to let go until she was ready, Riley frowned, muttered, and looked generally pissed off at his ability to skate perfect figure eights, backward and forward, while a few tentative tries landed her on that gorgeous backside.

Dylan enjoyed the transformation, though, when her usual stubbornness drove her forward into the middle of the ice in a sink-or-swim approach. Like most things the woman did in her life, she took the gamble.

And she swam.

He glided by her, grabbed her hand, and they hit stride. Watching fat chunks of snow surround them and ice sparkling added to the dreamy atmosphere. Dylan sunk into the moment, not needing conversation, just the presence of the woman he’d fallen in love with in an evening.

“My dad wanted a boy,” she said.

Dylan didn’t answer. A gut instinct told him to be quiet, because something bigger was happening underneath the surface and he didn’t want to jinx it. After a moment, Riley continued.

“When I was born, he was disappointed. Of course, I didn’t realize this until much later, after the tragedy. Sure, I knew he treated me with a distance, and seemed uninterested in anything purely female. But I had my mom, so that was okay. Dad’s world revolved around my brother. He was three years younger. His name was Rick.”

Dylan swallowed. He noted the terms she used, and knew the story was a rough one. But he kept skating, because he knew if he paused or said a word, she’d stop talking.

“I couldn’t be too jealous because I adored him, too. Dad was always pushing him, in sports, grades, social status. Had dreams of Rick doing something really successful, and always talked about him being the head of some super conglomerate or running his own company. Rick would roll his eyes and crack jokes—he had this great sense of humor that just made everyone love him. He made things easy for me. Mom rarely gave me crap, happy that I was happy, and Dad concentrated all his efforts on making sure Rick would excel at everything he did.”

Over the sound system, “Jingle Bells” turned to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” They did a few more laps and she was able to continue.

“Rick and my mother were killed in an auto accident. June 11, 1998. I was sixteen. He was thirteen. Guy fell asleep at the wheel and hit them head-on. No one survived.

“After that, it all changed. Dad walked around like a ghost. So did I. I felt so guilty. I was obsessed with my social status at school, crushing on this guy in my biology class, and hoping he’d ask me out. I felt so stupid, worried about ridiculous things when my brother had been working so hard to give Dad what he wanted. Excellence. Success.”

She lapsed into silence. “What did you do?” Dylan asked.

“I changed. I had to. I stopped worrying about friends and boys, and studied all the time. I decided to give Dad what we were all missing, and try to honor Rick’s memory. In a way, it wasn’t even hard. I learned to focus. I think I had the skills needed all the time, but I’d never been pushed before. I began enjoying the control and discipline it took to reach goals and depend on yourself. Much easier than maneuvering through social conventions, relationships, and teenage angst. Suddenly, my life was . . . cleaner.”

Dylan fought the need to take her in his arms and comfort her. All his questions about her drive and talent were answered. Of course she’d take her brother’s place. Of course she’d dedicate her life to making her father proud. It was probably always within her, but never had the opportunity to flourish with her brother being in the spotlight. His heart hurt for the family they were, the girl she’d once been, and the sacrifices she made. But he sensed she’d locked up this story for a long time, and it had festered, like an abscess. In order for her wound to heal, it needed to be lanced. Shared. Purged.

“Did your dad notice?”

A tiny sigh escaped her. “No. But I don’t blame him. I know he loves me. I know he’s proud of me and what I’ve accomplished with Chic Publishing. He framed the cover of Fortune magazine and hung it in the living room. But Rick and Mom left a hole that couldn’t be filled, no matter how good I was. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s the way it should be.”

He stopped. Tipped her chin up. Tenderness coursed through his body, his heart, his soul. She blinked furiously, her face a picture of confusion and sadness and longing. “I bet your mom and brother look over you every day, so damn proud of who you’ve become. Others would have sunk and given up. Whined and bitched and given excuses. You’re a hell of a woman, Riley Fox. A hell of a daughter. And a hell of a sister.”

She nodded. Accepting his comfort. Listening to the words and taking them deep to find a place where they could fit. He broke then, needing to touch her, protect her, make her happy.

The kiss was pure giving and comfort, but she turned it fast, grabbing on to him as if needing more. Dylan groaned and held her tight, his tongue plunging into her mouth and savoring her taste. The spark caught and exploded. He pushed her against the railing, ripping at the bulky clothes loaded with zippers and buttons, desperate to hit skin and give her the connection they both needed. She whimpered, and he swallowed it whole, managing to get the jacket open, sweater hiked up, and his fingers down her pants.

Holy crap, she was dripping wet and hot as his fingers hooked under the panties and sunk deep into her pussy. She bit down hard on his lower lip, but he didn’t break contact, moving his fingers and dragging them across her clit, pushing her higher even as she bucked and bit and moaned underneath him.

“Give it to me, Riley. Now. Give it all to me,” he demanded, twisting his fingers and slamming deep against her G-spot. And then she was coming, flooding his hand, while his mouth crushed her screams, never releasing the pressure they both craved. He kept his fingers inside her for a while, kissing away the one tear skidding down her cheek, murmuring inane nonsense in her ear while she settled. He kissed her, held her, and she relaxed completely in his arms.

“I need you,” he said. “In my bed. Naked. Open.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I need that, too.”

Dylan tried not to shake as he fixed her clothes, took her hand, and led her out of the rink.

He moved over her, surged inside, and began the rhythm to break her apart so he could put her back together. Riley lived her life on her terms, but tonight there was nothing she couldn’t give him. A distant fantasy and memory of a man whose image never left her now claimed her completely. She knew it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. But for these last few hours, Riley didn’t care.

She opened herself wide and met each thrust. Her lips opened to his tongue, her nails scraped down the muscled ridge of his back, drawing blood, making her own mark so tonight could be remembered. When her climax came, he commanded her to open her eyes. He was witness to it all—both brutal pleasure and the completion of the fall she’d started ten years ago at the first touch of his lips on hers.

She fell in love with Dylan McCray. Owned it. Relished it. Reveled in it.

She called his name over and over while her heart screamed out the words she refused to utter.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The mingling scent of sex and musk and sweat rose to his nostrils in the sweetest perfume in the world. Dylan stroked her shoulder as she rested, staring at the woman naked in his arms, in his bed. How many times had he wondered what it would be like if they met again, yet recognizing they may never be able to transition the connection between them into the real world.

When he joined Kinnections, he’d been so hopeful. He was ready to settle down and find his forever. The team was incredible, noting every one of his points, and even digging under the surface until they found needs he didn’t realize he had. Most of his dates impressed him. Made him laugh. Engaged him in stimulating conversation. Many even caused a physical reaction that would’ve led directly to sex, or at least a lot of foreplay.

Usually after the first date, he realized the truth.

None of the women were meant for him.

Frustration beat in his blood, and he had trouble convincing Kate he wasn’t screwing around, wasting their time. How do you explain the search for something that many didn’t believe existed? The magic of a connection, a deeper knowledge you met the one meant for only you? Especially coming from a male, he’d be laughed out of Kinnections and by anyone who heard the ridiculous story. So, he made half-assed excuses and kept his mouth shut.

About a year ago, Dylan began to believe that kind of relationship didn’t exist. The depression he felt realizing he’d have to settle haunted him, but he promised to give the search a bit more time before he accepted the fact he’d never have what his parents have. How could he even understand what he was looking for when he’d never experienced it personally?

Tonight, the shattering conclusion of his journey shocked him to his core. Riley Fox was the one. The one he’d been searching for. The moment he buried himself deep into her body, clasped her hands, looked into her eyes, a low hum vibrated in his gut and spread throughout every inch of him, refusing to be denied.

It was as if he’d found his other half. His mind settled, his heart ripped open, and he gave himself to her with each stroke, binding her body to his in the most primeval way possible for a man to claim his mate. He craved to protect her, push her, fuck her, comfort her.

Love her.

Holy shit.

“You okay?”

He blinked as the sound of her voice broke his short-term panic attack. No way could he tell her that. Not so soon, after a few hours in her company. Somehow, knowing Riley’s sense of control and order, he figured his big news would have her launching herself naked out the window into a pile of snow.

He’d need to ease her into the same realization. Failure wasn’t an option, because this time Dylan wasn’t letting her go.

He pushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it gently behind her ear. Her skin glowed, her lips were slightly bruised, and her eyes shone like a woman who was well satisfied. Dylan fought the urge to beat on his chest like a primate. “I’m better than okay.” He propped an elbow on the pillow and leaned his head on his palm, studying her. “How’s your head?”

She gave a low chuckle and stretched her leg. “Not my head I’m worried about right now. Other parts are taking up my attention.”

“Just what I like to hear,” he growled. “Can I tell you the fantasy wasn’t half as good as the reality? And trust me, I can spin a very dirty fantasy.”

“I bet you can.” She smiled, her face open and relaxed as she gazed at him. “I never knew it could—it could be like that.”

He pressed a thumb against her bottom lip, dragging it over the tender flesh. “Me, either.”

She wasn’t ready to hear the words, but he could show her in other ways.

Dylan spent the rest of the night showing her over and over again.

chapter 8

Riley opened her eyes.

The bedroom was half lit, a lazy breaking sun shining through the windows. Her muscles ached like a bitch, she was sore between her thighs, and she smelled of sex.

She couldn’t remember a time when she felt this satisfied.

The deep rumble of a snore drifted to her ears. She turned her head and studied the angelic profile of his face. God, he was perfection. A blinding beauty mixed with the carnality of a sexual animal. Waves of white-blond hair fell over his forehead, and a rough stubble coated his jaw. The lean muscles of his face were relaxed in sleep, gentling the curves to blend in fluid symmetry. The sheet was tangled around his hips, baring his impressive back to her gaze, making her fingers itch to touch him, though she hadn’t had her hands off of him for over twelve hours.

What was she going to do?

In the cold light of morning, panic edged her nerves. What had she done? In one evening, she’d shared secrets of her past, stripped naked, let him make love to her in a variety of ways, and begged for more. But this couldn’t be real. Normal people didn’t begin relationships jumping into bed in the middle of a snowstorm. The evening seemed like a hazy dream of blurred images and feelings that could never survive. She didn’t need a mind-blowing sexual affair doomed to fail. She wanted something solid and real, reasonable in everyday routine.

Dylan McCray was larger than life. Bigger than a boring domestic schedule no matter what he said about his parents or his true goals. If she believed him, Riley knew she’d throw away her ridiculous list and go for it. She’d follow him anywhere, do anything, and live in a fantasy world that would eventually crash. And once it did, could she ever settle for something less?

No. At least this way she had a beautiful memory to warm her nights. She had more than she had before. It would have to be enough.

Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Riley carefully climbed out of bed. Grabbing her clothes, she tiptoed out the door, dressing quickly. She headed to the kitchen and peeked out the window.

The snow had finally stopped but there was definitely two feet out there. The walkways and paths were covered, and God knows there’d be no way to get down the mountain until some crews came out to clear the roads. Her heart beat faster and she fought back panic. She had to get out of here. Her instincts screamed the quicker the better to avoid a confrontation she dreaded. Should she—

“Morning.”

She whipped around. He stood in the doorway, feet apart, hip cocked. He’d put on a pair of sweats and was naked from the waist up. The sexy morning-after stubble made her ache to cross the room and rub it against her tender lips, slip her fingers around his rock-hard length, stroke, suck— Oh, God, what was she doing?

“Morning.”

“I’ll put on some coffee.” He motioned toward the window. “How bad is it?”

“Snow stopped but it’s a mess. I’m hoping the phone lines are back up. I need to get my cell phone from the car. Umm, any idea how I can get out of here?”

He filled the pot with water and took out the grinder. “Figured we’d spend the day together. I’ll have my staff get you towed. Plow guy should be here in a few hours.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds good, but I really need to leave as soon as possible.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m way behind on—work.”

He finished grinding the beans, filled the filter, and flipped on the brew switch. Then turned to her. “Got the spooks, Riley?”

She stiffened. Cooled her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a ton of work, messages to return, and can’t afford to be trapped on a mountain all day.”

He nodded, seemingly calm, but a dangerous aura pulsed around him. “I see. Are we going to at least talk about last night?”

She blew out a breath. “Sounds like an old eighties movie. I didn’t think we needed to, Dylan. Last night was amazing. But now it’s daytime, and we need to get on with our lives.”

“How neat and tidy. Sorry my answer won’t be.”

“What answer?”

“Fuck that.”

She jerked. Anger flooded her, pure and hot and mean. “Look, I don’t know what you think last night was, but I refuse to be spoken to that way.”

“Didn’t mind it last night when I was buried deep inside you. Seemed to like anything I said then.”

Her face turned warm. Damn, she hated blushing. “That was then. This is now.”

“Why don’t you tell me what last night was about, then?” Dylan rested his fists on his hips, challenging her with a gaze that dared her to lie.

Why was he doing this? Wasn’t he the man in the relationship? He was supposed to be stumbling over himself in an effort to get her quickly out of his house and praying they wouldn’t be talking about feelings or expectations. Screw this. She refused to cower under his overbearing high-handedness.

“Fine. You want me to be truthful, I will. Last night was wonderful. It was hot, and a fantasy, and a memory I’ll never forget. But I think we both realize we were trapped in a snowstorm, had some leftover feelings from our time together at college, and needed to get it out of our system. Now I need to go back to my real life. You wouldn’t fit, Dylan, and you know it. Let’s do the right thing by admitting our time together was special, and deciding to move on. Maybe even be friends?” She choked on the word but managed to forge ahead. “How does that sound?”

He moved so fast she never saw him coming. Suddenly he loomed over her, his hands gripping her shoulders, fury transforming him into the rebel archangel bent on getting what he wanted. “I think your plan sucks,” Dylan stated coldly. “I think you’re so scared of how deep things got the only way to feel safe again is to pretend it didn’t mean anything. I may not blame you, but I gotta admit, Riley, it’s pissing me off. I thought you were braver than that.”

She gasped. “How dare you! We spent one night together and that doesn’t give you a right to pretend to know me! All we have together is great sex. It’s not enough to base a relationship on.”

“I disagree,” he growled. “The sex is the best I’ve ever had, but it’s about connection. We get each other. It’s not rational or good on paper, but there it is. We fit. And walking away from it because you think I’m suddenly gonna spook, or some bullshit about me not owning nine out of the ten qualities on your ridiculous list is a cop-out.”

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s real! Don’t you get it? The sex is too good. We’re too—intense.” Her voice broke, making her even madder, but his grip gentled and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I know it was intense, darlin’. I know it’s a lot to take in, and it was only one night, but here’s the truth. I’m giving it all to you in one shot. My whole life I’ve been searching for something incredible. My other half, a woman who made me feel whole. From the moment I found you in that car and carried you in, my senses have been in overdrive. And when I finally drove inside your body, felt your heat around me, I knew. I just knew.

“It’s you. I’ve been searching for you.”

Her body shook like it was in the grip of a fever. Fireworks went off in her brain, short-circuiting, and she tore apart in two. Half of her sobbed in relief and surrendered. The other half cringed in bone-gripping fear of the unknown and unrealistic.

Marriage and relationships were about compromise. Communication. Likability. Not this crazy hormonal ride, and soul-ripping, raw need. It couldn’t be.

So Riley stood in his arms, frozen, not able to say a word. His hands stroked her cheek, the truth shattering them both, and then he kissed her.

Pure. Oh, his kiss gave everything she’d always wanted, sweet and gentle and humbling. She kissed him back, savoring every last moment, and when he pulled away she knew what she had to do.

“It’ll never work,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, trembling with the force of her need, and the iron-will control she had to stay strong. “You and I together will never . . . fit.”

“That fucking box again.” He stepped back, releasing her. He quickly turned, but she already caught the agony on his face, making a moan emit from her throat. He fisted his hands, cursing viciously under his breath. Finally, he spoke, but kept his back turned.

“I guess you’ve made your decision. I can’t force you to take a chance. I can’t force you to have feelings you may not. And I’m sorry, too.”

He moved toward the door. “I’ll call the tow truck to get you out of here and give you a lift home. Help yourself to coffee.”

He left. Riley shuddered, slumping down to rest in the chair and catch her shaking legs. She knew he had done more than left her in the kitchen. He’d respected her very rational, logical decision and let her go completely.

Too bad the win suddenly felt like the biggest loss in her life.

chapter 9

Two weeks later, Riley slumped in her office chair. Usually, her work schedule energized her, revving her up. Goals and deadlines were her happy place. But since she left Dylan, everything seemed . . . flat. Uninspired. Even the chocolate chips she’d put in her bran muffins didn’t make her happy.

Now, that was just plain scary.

Holding back a sigh, she tapped the pen against her blotter and tried to think. She’d told Kate to schedule her as many dates as possible with partners who complemented her list. She’d gone on four dates. A lawyer, accountant, teacher, and doctor. They’d been intelligent, low key, and respectable. They wanted children. She had a good time. But God, they were so dull.

Dylan had ruined her.

She’d reached for the phone to call him a hundred times during the past two weeks. He’d probably hang up on her. Riley ached that she’d been the one to hurt him, when all he had done was be brave and confess his true feelings. The same exact feelings she had for him, but was too chickenshit to follow. What a mess.

The unstoppable truth haunted her night after night. Dylan McCray was the man she was meant for. He may not be the type she imagined, but he completed her. Got her. He didn’t allow for her bullshit, respected her career, knew her past, ravished her body and soul with a hunger never matched. Life may be calmer without him. More reasonable. But it would be empty and lonely and dark.

What was she going to do?

How could she get him back?

The red light flashed on her phone. “Ms. Fox, you have a visitor. He’s not on your schedule but insisted you’d see him. Dylan McCray.”

Her mouth fell open. After trying to talk several times, she finally managed a squeak. “Yes, thanks, Cindy, you can send him in.”

She scrambled to neaten her desk, stood up, sat back down, then stood up again. Sweat dampened her palms. What did he want? Was he still angry? Would he try to get her back? What if he laughed and said her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him? He strolled through the door thirty seconds later in a navy blue pin-striped suit, red tie, and leather loafers. He was the symbol of the gorgeous, successful American man, powerful and commanding with every move, the sharp fabric creased perfectly and a tangy aftershave floating from his skin that made her want to keep sucking in air.

“Dylan.” Her voice ripped from her throat. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Riley.” He nodded, but his eyes gleamed with a mysterious intent. “I’m surprised I’m here myself. But after the two weeks I had, I realized I had no choice.”

She stumbled forward. The space between them yawned with emptiness. His body heat hummed from across the room. “Do—do you want to sit?”

“No, thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”

Riley fought a shudder and tried to look calm. She shifted on her high heels, glad she’d worn her smart pink plaid Jones suit. She needed all the confidence possible. “Why are you here?”

He grinned. Shot his cuffs. His casual pose reminded her of a jungle cat lazing in the woods for a nap before hunting its prey. “I’m tired of waiting. I was a good boy, deciding to give you the time you need. But watching you go out with other men has been pissing me off, and I’ve lost patience. Who’s in the box, Riley?”

Her heart hammered in her chest. Excitement slithered in her veins and she was thrust from dreary Kansas to Oz in seconds. She took a step forward. “You.”

Those eyes burned hot and demanding. Her muscles softened in surrender. Finally, the truth released her and joy burst through her body. She blinked away the mad sting of tears.

Dylan nodded. “Damn right. About time, too. Now there’s just one last thing you need to do.”

She’d do it. She’d do anything for him. Because Riley knew in that moment she belonged to him as wholly as he did to her. They were a team, and she’d never doubt it again. “What?”

He gave a slow grin. “Prove it.”

“This is ridiculous. It’s the middle of the day. People just don’t do these things in the afternoon, Dylan. It’s too . . . decadent.”

He tried not to laugh at her whispered horror, because he knew she frikkin’ loved every second of it. Hands firmly clasped together, he led her around the circle of the rink while the lights twinkled, and the scent of popcorn and candy filled the air. The carousel sang merrily, the painted horses bobbing up and down as children laughed with delight. Still dressed in her work clothes, heels swapped out for skates, they glided in perfect coordination, and Dylan realized he’d never been so completely and utterly content.

He’d finally found her.

“You love it,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get married here.”

She stumbled and he caught her. “You always were arrogant, egotistical, and assuming,” she declared.

“I’m also right.”

“Funny, before the marriage part comes another element I haven’t heard yet.”

He laughed, spun her around, and pressed her back against the gate. Her nose was red, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Dylan lowered his head. “I love you, Riley Fox. I probably always have. It was you I was searching for all along.”

“Damn right.” She lifted her arms and buried her fingers in his hair. “And I love you.”

“About time. I have a wonderful plan already for the honeymoon.”

“Oh yeah? Someplace warm and tropical?” she teased.

He nibbled on her lower lip. “No. I intend to fill an entire room with stainless-steel appliances and fuck you thoroughly on every last one of them.”

Her body shuddered and a low moan vibrated from her throat. Crap, he loved this woman. Body, mind, heart, and soul. He couldn’t wait to see what the next fifty years would bring.

“But for now, I just want to skate with the woman I love.”

She smiled and pressed her lips softly to his.

And they skated.