Private Pleasures

Chapter Four

Remember the fantasy…

Mariah groaned as the words Grey had written flooded her mind, making her remember vividly the things he'd wanted to do to her while she wore the ensemble he'd sent. A part of her brain mocked her for wearing the lingerie when she knew he'd expected her to. On a deep, feminine level she found this whole interlude thrilling.

The voices around the corner and the music floating out the French doors dimmed. The world around her receded, until there was only her and Grey in the secluded alcove. She'd only drunk one glass of champagne, but it could have been the whole bottle for how lethargic she suddenly felt.

She struggled to hold on to any shred of cognizance. "Grey-"

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his warm, damp mouth nuzzling her neck. His fingers traced the elastic band of her panties before sliding back down and out the hem of her dress.

She whimpered, unable to believe the wanton, needy sound had come from her.

He said nothing, but then they'd never needed verbal communication when it came to pleasing and pleasuring the other. His hands outlined the flare of her hips and the dip of her waist, hiking her dress up a few inches. Cool air brushed across the exposed flesh between her stockings and panties. He continued on, skimming his palms around her breasts to grasp the sleeves of her dress. He tugged gently, and the stretchy lace gave way. Her breasts, full and aching and unrestrained by a bra, sprang free.

Watching her, he licked a finger and touched her sensitive nipple. Her breath caught, and before she could cry out his mouth covered hers in a deep, drugging kiss that made her head spin. His tongue sought and tangled with hers while his hands molded and caressed her breasts. With his foot, he nudged her legs apart until she was straddling his thigh and his erection strained between them.

Lord help her, she wanted him, despite where they were and the risk of being caught. Her body buzzed with desire, and a wet warmth settled between her thighs, where his fingers were again, this time slipping beneath the edge of her panties to touch her intimately.

He stroked her, in just the way he knew made her shatter into a thousand pieces. She moaned desperately, and he buffered the passionate sound with a kiss that weakened her knees. The meltdown began in slow degrees, robbing her of all reason. Her main focus became the intense ache he created within her.

Needing to touch him, she slid her hands inside his tuxedo jacket and rubbed against firm muscle and a heat greater than pure fire. His heavy heartbeat matched her own erratic pulse. She wanted him inside her. It would be just a simple matter of unzipping his pants and her wrapping a leg around his waist. Anyone who happened to walk by would only see two people in a lover's embrace, and not know just how intimately they were joined.

The delicious fantasy, combined with the silken glide of his fingers and the sexiest kisses she'd ever tasted unraveled the last of her inhibitions. Her body convulsed in waves of ecstasy, and she moaned into his mouth and clung to him until the incredible pleasure subsided.

Now she knew how the fantasy ended.

Grey slowly broke their kiss and rested her head on his shoulder until she regained a normal breathing pattern. His own breathing was ragged. He stroked her hair and the length of her spine. Murmuring soothing words, he ignored his own need, which pressed insistently against her belly.

With a tenderness that touched her heart, he adjusted the top of her dress over her breasts and smoothed down the hem. Dazed, she let him tend to her. She had little energy left to do it herself. When he straightened and looked into her eyes, his own were blazing hot and filled with a masculine satisfaction.

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, puffy and damp from his ardent kisses. "'Night, sweetheart," he murmured huskily. Thrusting his hands deep into his trouser pockets, he turned and strolled down the stairs at the side of the veranda and disappeared into the night.

She stared in that direction, long after there was no sign of him. Stunned and bereft by the entire episode, she attempted to calm the tremors still quaking deep inside her. On shaky legs she stepped from the shadowed corner and up to the railing, wrapping her fingers tight around the metal rod.

Tears of anger and frustration burned the back of her throat and filled her eyes. "Damn you, Grey," she whispered vehemently.

He'd seduced her deliberately. Like a possession, he'd marked her, branding her as his so no other man would touch her. So she wouldn't want any other man.

If he were still around, she would have slapped him.

You're just as much to blame, her conscience mocked. You didn't even try to resist him.

Two hands settled heavily on the flare of her hips, and a distinctly male body crowded her from behind. Abruptly she whirled around, her palm midway to the man's cheek before she realized it was Richard. She immediately jerked back and dropped her hand, horrified at what she'd almost done.

He looked just as surprised. "Hey, it's just me," he said, his fingers tightening on her waist.

"I'm…I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she tried to move away, but his hold was unrelenting. Short of prying his fingers from her, she was trapped in his firm grasp. "You startled me."

"I didn't mean to." Slowly he drew her forward, sexual prowess gleaming in his eyes. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

Panic settled in and she swallowed the thickness gathering in her throat. Grey's ploy had worked. The thought of another man touching her made her want to bolt, not that she'd ever intended for her and Richard to become that intimate.

"Richard-" She sucked in a deep breath of dismay as his hands cupped her breasts and groped her.

"You like that?" he said near her ear, obviously mistaking her shock for pleasure. "How about we take a walk around the garden area and find a spot where we can be alone for a while?"

She grimaced, and her stomach lurched at the suggestion. Very calmly she removed his hands from her breasts. "If you don't mind, I think I'm ready to leave."

"Great," he said enthusiastically, while passing a friendly hand over her bottom. He squeezed her fanny, and all but undressed her with his gaze. "My place or yours?"

She squirmed out of his reach. "Mine. I've got a horrendous headache and horrible cramps," she said, effectively dousing the lustful look in his gaze.

Mariah's lungs burned and the muscles in her calves and thighs strained with every stride. The last mile home was always the worst. Normally she had Grey by her side, goading her along to keep her from giving up and collapsing, but those days were a thing of the past. She was on her own, with no weekend running partner.

The thought of Grey, or rather her anger toward him, kept her legs pumping and her mind focused. Grey had always claimed jogging was a therapeutic sport, while she'd thought any form of exercise paralleled physical torture. And in the name of love she'd suffered through a couple of weeks of aching muscles, leg cramps, and bouts of hyperventilation to join Grey on his weekend morning excursion. Before long, running together had become a shared outing, a chance for her to spend quality time with him, even though she'd never learned to enjoy the sport quite as much as he did. However, going home and showering together afterward had been the sweetest incentive to join him.

Following the paved walkway through the park across from her condo, she pulled in an even breath and tried to let go of the tension and fury coiled within her. After Grey's outrageous behavior the night before, her own response to him and Richard's obtuse attitude during the drive back to her place, she wanted nothing more than a little peace and tranquillity in her life.

And no men to complicate it.

Her wish wasn't meant to be. The sound of an approaching jogger slowed by her side. Without looking, she knew who it was, and refused to acknowledge the man responsible for her present black mood and a sleepless night spent cursing his gorgeous head.

Holding tight to her anger she ignored him, which proved a difficult feat considering he kept staring at her and his arm occasionally brushed hers. Her feminine senses had an annoying way of tingling whenever he was near, and she shook the sensation before she did something stupid…such as be nice to him.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed he wore nylon running shorts and a muscle shirt drenched in sweat, and surmised he'd been out jogging for at least half an hour. While she drew in ragged breaths and measured every foot closer to her condo in terms of the finish line, he glided beside her, looking physically fit and ready to tackle the world. He was whistling, for God's sake!

She looked up at him and glared.

He grinned. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said cheerfully.

Go to hell, Nichols. Clenching her teeth, she lengthened her stride.

His long, muscular legs easily and effortlessly kept him by her side. "Beautiful day, don't cha think?"

It was until you snowed up. Taking a quick detour, she jogged up a grassy knoll, leaving him momentarily behind.

Deep laughter rippled along her nerves, men he was beside her again, undaunted by her obvious attempts to elude him. "Can't say I mind being behind every once in a while. The view is quite nice."

He continued to jog beside her and talk to her, heedless of the fact that she wasn't responding. She kept hoping if she ignored him he'd go away.

No such luck. He was in a great mood. They passed an old lady sitting on a bench feeding the pigeons, and Grey winked and wished her a good morning. As they jogged around a man-made lake he picked up a fly-away Frisbee and flicked it back to the little girl who owned it. He was being entirely too nice, and she silently cursed him for making their breakup so difficult. Why couldn't he be a cretin, as she'd learned Richard could be?

Her final date with Richard the previous night had come to a nasty conclusion, with him expecting something a little more than a thank-you for their time together. And when she'd told him she didn't sleep with men she'd only known a few weeks, he'd spouted a few choice words, then had left in a huff.

"You know, I have to say you're getting good, sweetheart," Grey teased. "Usually by now you're passed out on the curbside."

His subtle jibe provoked her. On impulse, she hooked her foot around his ankle and tripped him. He stumbled and fell to the grass with a string of curses.

Grinning and enjoying her small victory, she turned around and jogged backward so she could look at him. In her sweetest voice, she said, "My, Grey, when did you get so clumsy?"

Faster than a lithe panther, he sprang back up. A determined, you're-gonna-pay look glinted in his eyes. Her heart gave a frantic leap of apprehension. Knowing she was in big trouble, she whirled back around and ran as fast as her legs would allow.

She was no match for his speed and agility. He anchored an arm around her waist, throwing her off balance. With a shriek, she twisted and grabbed a handful of Grey's shirt for support. She fell anyway, pulling him down with her. He swore and grappled to cushion her fall. He managed to cradle her head in his hand so it didn't hit the ground, but he ended up sprawled on top of her, their faces inches apart.

Mariah was instantly aware of his hard body, slick with perspiration against her own sun-warmed skin. His chest crushed her breasts beneath her thin tank top, and his musky scent filled every breath she struggled to take. The heat he created threatened to consume her. She squirmed for freedom.

He cocked a brow and kept her pinned. "Clumsy, eh? And when did you get such a smart mouth?"

His gaze focused on the mouth in question, his eyes darkening. Alarm bells went off in her head. If she didn't do something fast he was going to kiss her, and if his lips so much as touched hers she didn't know whether or not she had the strength to stop him. God, did she have no shame when it came to him?

His dark lashes lowered, along with his parted lips. She turned her head just as his mouth landed on her cheek. Except that didn't deter him. His lips slid along her jaw, nuzzled her neck, while his body arched subtly, intimately into hers.

Biting back a groan of pure need, she wound her fingers through his thick, damp hair, and gently but firmly pulled his head back. "I suggest," she began in a voice more steely than she felt, "that you get off me before I scream my head off and have you arrested for assault."

His mouth curled into a smile. "Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" he drawled huskily. "Or just in the wrong bed?"

"Get…off…me." Her low, precise tone held warning.

That dark brow remained cocked but he didn't argue. Slowly-oh, so slowly-he slid off her and stood, then offered her a hand.

Furious with him, she slapped away his help. "You have some nerve!" She gave into the urge and walloped him one in the chest. Her fist bounced off honed muscles and he didn't even flinch. "If you so much as touch me again, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Frowning, he rubbed the spot she'd punched. "You're mad at me."

She released a low growl of frustration and stomped away, certain if she remained near him she'd do more bodily damage. "You catch on quick, Nichols!"

He caught up to her but wisely didn't touch her. "What did I do?"

She stopped. She was still breathing hard, from running and Grey's sensual attack. The second one in as many days. "You know damn well what you did!"

He jammed his hands on his lean hips and tipped his head. "You talking about last night?"

"Yes!" You dolt!

A little smirk touched his mouth. "Oh, that." His tone was rough and sexy at the same time.

"Yes, 'that,'" she repeated heatedly. She tried not to think about the incredible, erotic fantasy he'd fulfilled and failed miserably. "Not only 'that,' but you walked away!"

He slowly swiped the back of his wrist across his sweaty forehead, his eyes golden and immensely pleased. "Is that what's bothering you? That I walked away afterward?"

"Ooh!" The enraged sound rumbled in her chest. The man's arrogance was showing, and the thing was, he was damn sexy anyway. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "You seduced me deliberately!"

His expression shifted, showing her his serious side. "I can't stand the thought of you sleeping with another man."

He sounded and looked so vulnerable she wanted to weep. "It's not up to you to decide who I sleep with, Grey. Not anymore. And you have no right to…to…"

"Make love to you?" he offered. They hadn't consummated the act, but it had been just as intimate, if not more so because of their covert setting.

"Yes!" There weren't many people in the park, but the few that were around turned and stared at them. She gave them a wan smile.

Grey lowered his voice in deference to their audience. "I didn't hear that mouth of yours say no. Not once. And I didn't do half of what I wanted to."

She gasped. She couldn't help herself, because the images his words projected in her mind were shocking. He was so bad! "You didn't give me a chance to say no! You knew exactly what you were doing the day you sent me that package from P.J.'s."

"Ah, P.J.'s," he murmured reflectively. Standing with legs apart, he folded his arms across his chest and stroked his chin with his fingers. His eyes sparkled wickedly. "I quite enjoyed shopping for you there. And you weren't opposed to wearing what I sent." He perused the length of her lazily, visually stripping away her tank top and cotton shorts and leaving her breathless as a result. "As far as I was concerned, the moment I realized you were wearing the stockings I sent, you were mine."

"That is so chauvinistic!"

He shrugged. "It's the truth. I know you better than you think. You might have attended the party with Richard, but your heart and mind were with me all the way. And I don't think I have to remind you how hot your body was…for me."

He played dirty, getting her right where she was most defenseless. Unable to believe they were having this argument in a public park, she started in the direction of her condo. "You're crazy," she said, shaking her head.

He caught her arm. "Crazy for you, just like you're crazy for me." His gaze pierced her to her soul. "Look me in the eyes and deny it."

She couldn't. Any denial she might have spouted lodged in her throat and her gaze couldn't quite meet his. The fingers around her arms branded her, and when he brushed his thumb across the soft flesh of her inner elbow, she shivered.

He continued on ruthlessly. "You wore that garter belt and those stockings with the butterfly on the ankle because you wanted me to see it, think of you wearing it and drive me wild."

Again, she couldn't deny his claim. A part of her had done just that.

"Well, it worked, Mariah," he said, a hint of challenge in his tone. "You looked damned sexy last night and Richard was looking to score. And I thought of you leaving with him, and him seeing you in the lingerie I sent, touching you, and I couldn't stand it. You're mine, Mariah."

"You're being obsessive," she said on a low hiss of breath. "You treated me like a possession last night, and I resent that!"

"I treated you exactly the way you wanted to be treated." She opened her mouth to issue a retort, but he plowed on. "Maybe your mind is saying we're through, but your body feels differently. Last night proved it."

Her body, unfortunately, had been fine-tuned for Grey's touch, no one else's. Overwhelmed by everything, she squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten, feeling no more relaxed.

Grey let go of her arm and pushed his fingers through his tousled hair. "I can't believe you're wasting your time with this guy."

She didn't bother telling him she'd broken things off with Richard the night before. "Just like I wasted time with you?"

His mouth stretched into a grim line, and she would have sworn she'd seen a flash of hurt in his eyes. "Is that how you really feel about us?"

No, she thought, her heart aching for everything they'd shared. I loved every minute we spent together, and I'll treasure it always. But I can't go on like this, without a firm commitment and the promise of stability.

Swallowing the words and the rush of emotion rising to the surface, she started to walk away.

He blocked her path, his body a formidable obstruction. "Dammit, answer me."

She looked up at him. The sun silhouetted his body and glinted off his dark hair, giving him a dangerous edge that belied the incredible tenderness and confusion etched on his features. This was the Grey only she saw. Sensitive, gentle and infinitely caring. This was the Grey she wanted to spend her life with…except he didn't believe in happily-ever-afters.

"I love you, Grey," she whispered, giving in to the urge to touch his cheek. The dark and rough stubble lining his jaw pricked her fingers, but she welcomed the bristly texture. "How can I love someone so much and think of our time together as a waste? I regret how things ended-"

He caught her wrist and pulled her close enough to press her hand to his chest. "No one says it has to end," he said gruffly.

"I do." Her smile was shaky at best. The heartbeat beneath her palm kicked into a higher drive. "You can't give me what I need. You're not even willing to try."

His jaw hardened, along with his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

The impossible, she thought. "I want you to love me."

"How can I give you something that doesn't exist for me?" He let go of her hand and rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. "Hell, Mariah, I don't even know what love is."

That thought saddened her. How could she make him understand something he'd obviously had no experience with? An emotion she'd been surrounded by her entire life and had taken for granted?

She explained it in the most simplistic terms she could. "Love is caring, and sharing, and wanting to be with the other person so much it hurts when you're apart."

"I'm hurting, Mariah, more than I've hurt in my entire life." The truth of that statement reflected in his eyes. "And I care."

They were missing one important element. "But you don't share. You don't share what's deep inside you."

He cringed, silently admitting the truth. "Would it make a difference if I did?"

She had to think carefully about her answer, because she didn't want to lie to him or give him false hopes about them. "I honestly don't know if it would make a difference now, but maybe then I'd understand why you say you don't believe in love, and why the word marriage makes you pale."

He offered no explanation, just stared at her, waging some kind of internal battle she didn't understand. He wanted to share, she could see the anguish in his eyes, but he'd closed himself off for so long he didn't know how to express his feelings. And maybe he didn't want to dredge up all the ugliness seemingly attached to those emotions.

She couldn't force any of it out of him, and she couldn't continue on in a one-sided relationship. This time when she walked away, he didn't stop her.

"Are you about ready to wrap it up, John?" Mariah stood in the arched entryway leading into Grey's formal dining room. She watched as the hired photographer shot pictures of the room, richly furnished in mahogany, burgundy and green accents and plush cream-colored carpeting that ran throughout the entire house.

"Another half an hour ought to do it," he said, loading a fresh roll of film into his camera. "I still need to finish up in here, and I want a couple of shots of the sunken living room."

"Okay." She backed out of the room to give John the privacy he required while working. She trusted his judgment and choice of shots; he'd always given Casual Elegance his best.

Pausing in the marbled foyer, Mariah glanced at the gold watch on her wrist and noted the time. She wanted to be out of Grey's house by five and hopefully avoid him in the process. It was three-thirty, and by the time John finished the shoot and packed up his paraphernalia, it would probably be about four-thirty. Grey didn't usually leave work any earlier than six, and when she'd picked up the house key from Jeanie that morning, his secretary had told her he'd be in a meeting for most of the afternoon.

She hadn't seen Grey in over a week, since their "jog" together. She'd spoken to him on the phone to set up a day and time to take pictures of his house, and had managed to keep her call short and strictly business, despite his attempts to steer their conversation to more intimate topics.

The flowers and gifts had stopped, mainly because she'd flat out refused any deliveries. Although Mariah had gone through a few other breakups in her life, she'd never experienced such heartache and sense of loss. She wondered if the pain would ever go away.

Sighing, she wandered into the sunken living room. It boasted a huge circular brick fire pit in the center, surrounded by a casual but very expensive couch and end tables that had cost a small fortune. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a custom-made pool and deck area, and a landscaped backyard with plenty of room for children to run free. Beyond the yard, Grey had a gorgeous view of the ocean. Down the hall at the far end of the house was Grey's office, a spacious room with a fireplace and built-in bookcases covering one wall. The furnishings were dark, the decor a masculine combination of burnished gold and green.

Bored and restless, Mariah climbed the spiral staircase to the second landing, which she'd avoided all afternoon. She knew the size, shape and design of each room, having been in the house numerous times during its building stage, and then to complete the interior decorating and furnishings. For some reason, today she didn't want to face the intimacy of those rooms and the visions she'd had for one bedroom in particular. She'd put so much of her heart and soul into this house because Grey had encouraged her to, and she'd foolishly believed that someday they might share it. Unfortunately she and Grey had two different concepts of sharing: living together versus marriage.

There were only three rooms on the upper level, a master bedroom, a guest bedroom and a workout room. Avoiding Grey's bedroom, she headed left down the hall and peeked into the room at the far end. A weight set, stationary bike and various pieces of workout equipment dominated the room. An elaborate stereo system had been added, the speakers mounted on the wall in two corners. It was easy to imagine Grey in here, working out before heading to the office in the morning.

Shutting the door on his private gym, she entered the second room and immediately envisioned something different from how it was currently furnished. Instead of a queen-size canopied bed and armoire, she imagined a white-washed crib with a musical mobile and a matching dresser and rocking chair by the window seat. While searching wallpaper samples for this room she'd discovered a whimsical border in soft pastel colors, the design a carousel of plump, adorable zoo animals that would have matched the imagined nursery perfectly. A nursery for her and Grey's children.

A rush of emotion filled her with lost hope. There would be no babies for her and Grey, no days at the park as a family, and no nights in his arms as his lover. That dream had been shattered weeks ago, yet she couldn't let it go, no matter how hard she tried.

She wanted to believe that Grey could love her, that he could cherish her the way her father cherished her mother. That he'd give her babies and love them as much as she would. But he was hurt and scarred by something painful, memories she didn't understand, secrets he refused to share.

"What's the matter? Don't you like the room?"

Mariah visibly jumped and spun around to face the man lounging casually in the doorway, his hands thrust into his khaki slacks. Her gauze skirt floated around her legs, and the bright matching bangles she'd borrowed from Jade jingled on her wrist.

She hadn't expected him home so early. She should have guessed he'd surprise her this way. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't sneak up on me."

A lopsided smile graced his lips. "I jogged up the steps and cleared my throat and that didn't seem to get your attention. I've been standing here for at least three minutes watching you, waiting for you to snap out of your trance."

"I wasn't in a trance," she said, smoothing a strand of hair away from her cheek. "Just deep in thought."

He looked as though he wanted to laugh, but held his humor in check. "There's a difference?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes."

"Then what had you so deep in thought?"

She couldn't bear to witness how her maternal thoughts would make him shudder. She kept her silly dreams tucked away. "The house looks absolutely gorgeous."

"Thanks to your expertise." He moved into the room and looked around as if seeing it for the first time. Then he looked at her. "You're everywhere, you do know that, don't you?"

She found it difficult to breathe when he was so near, her every breath filled with the warm, earthy scent of him. "What do you mean?"

"Everywhere I look I see you." His intense gaze held hers like twin magnets. "The wallpaper, the couches, the dining set, this canopied bed. We picked everything out together."

He was doing it again, twisting her heart into one big knot of wanting and need. She valiantly fought the feeling. "I presented you with the choices and you made the final decision, Grey."

"Not on everything," he said softly, his voice stroking her senses like a physical caress. "Just my office. All the other rooms I went with your suggestions."

She hadn't known. The thought both pleased and bothered her. "Do you regret it?"

His smile was a little sad. Reaching out, he gently rubbed the back of his knuckles over her silky cheek. "I only regret that you're not here to share it with me."

She took a step back, dislodging his tender touch. "Grey-"

"I've never been so lonely before," he went on, admitting more than she ever thought him capable of. "I come home from work expecting you to greet me with your wonderful smile, but it never happens. I swear I hear your voice, your laughter, that's how badly I want you here. The last months of the house being built, that's all I thought about, you and me here together. I've never thought of another woman being in my life the way I want you in mine."

Grey had never been one for flowery speeches, yet this sweet confession touched her on such a deep level a lump formed in the back of her throat. And on the heels of that came a fresh wave of anger that he would manipulate her already shredded emotions. Dammit, she was tired of tears and tired of hurting!

"And you know what I thought about while the house was being built and we were flipping through sample booklets of wallpaper and carpeting?" She didn't give him a chance to respond, but he definitely looked taken aback by her outburst. "I imagined this room as a nursery."

He frowned, the color draining from his face.

"That's right, Grey," she went on relentlessly, though her heart seemed to shrivel at his reaction. "I imagined children running through the house and playing in the backyard. Children with your dark hair and my blue eyes. I imagined us sitting at the dining room table as a family and helping our kids with their homework."

He stared, jaw tight.

No, he definitely didn't want to hear about her dreams, and she couldn't go on without them. "I guess we both had different perceptions of the future, didn't we?" she whispered, her fury spent.

A low, rough breath left him. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Mariah, I'm packed up." John's voice drifted up the stairs and into the room. "Let's get a move on."

She stepped around Grey, intending to leave. When her skirt brushed his pant leg he gently grasped the thin material and tugged, forcing her to stop. Her gaze met his stormy one, and she damned her body for its instantaneous response, and he hadn't even touched her physically.

"Mariah-"

"I've got to go," she said quickly, pulling her skirt from his loose fist. Reluctantly he uncurled his fingers, looking away as she fled the room.

His blunt curses burned her ears all the way down the spiral staircase.

"YOU'VE GONE OFF the deep end, Nichols," Grey muttered to himself.

Sinking farther into his Jeep Cherokee's leather seat, he continued to stake out the front of Casual Elegance, waiting for Mariah to emerge so he could execute his rash, last-ditch-effort plan. It was Friday evening, and except for Mariah's champagne BMW, which was parked next to his vehicle, the lot was devoid of cars.

He hadn't talked to her all week, not since the night she'd left his house with her photographer. And every night since, he'd lain in bed and replayed their conversation in his mind, wishing he'd been able to say all the things she wanted to hear. Wishing, too, that he could offer her all the things she yearned for and deserved. Like marriage and children.

Thing was, he couldn't lie to her, and he couldn't make her promises that would never come true. He didn't know how to love, had only learned from his mother how destructive and desperate that emotion could be. And having had only his own father as a role model, he feared he'd make a damned lousy parent.

No, he couldn't give her the commitment that was all too important to her, but he could give her the answers she sought. He owed her that much.

But in order to do that, he needed time alone with her.

Another ten long minutes and she finally stepped out of the front entrance and locked the glass door. She wore a dressy short outfit in a bright fuschia-and-turquoise print that displayed the incredible length and sexy shape of her legs. Purse and briefcase in hand, she turned and headed toward her car. Knowing it was now or never, he slid out of the Jeep and started toward her.

"Grey?" Her steps slowed, and her gaze turned wary. "Is everything okay?"

He probably didn't look okay, he thought. He wore faded jeans, a T-shirt and aviator glasses that concealed his thoughts and emotions. His stride was purposeful.

"You're coming with me." Grasping her elbow, he escorted her to the passenger side of the Jeep and opened the door. "Get in."

She hesitated, then climbed into the beige leather seat. Confusion and concern etched her features. Taking advantage of her bewildered state, he closed her door and jogged around to the driver's side. Sliding in, he turned on the ignition. Less than a minute later they were on the freeway, heading north.

She looked at him as though he were a few slices short of a full loaf. He was beginning to think he was. "Grey, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Moving into the fast lane, he pressed his foot on the accelerator. He glanced at Mariah, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I'm kidnapping you for the weekend."