Seduced

Chapter 4

Jessica shivered at the direct, male look in Ryan's deep brown eyes, the unmistakable seductive intent… but she wasn't afraid. She was suddenly very aware of the heat of his body, the reckless racing of her pulse, and the spiraling warmth settling low in her belly.

He loosened his hold on the tie, and the silk whispered through his long fingers again. The erotic sound strummed along her nerve endings just as effectively, awakening an undeniable excitement within her.

She struggled to draw a steady breath. For as titillating as she found his suggestion, she wasn't sure why shielding her vision was necessary. "Why do you need to blindfold me?"

"So you'll get the full effect of my experiment."

Stepping in front of her, he leaned forward to cover her eyes. When her locked knees brushed his groin, she automatically parted her legs to make room for him… and realized her mistake. He moved closer, nudging her thighs wider to accommodate his lean hips, making her far too aware of how intimate their position was.

Their close proximity didn't seem to bother him. "Being blindfolded will heighten your other senses,like the texture of the cake, the flavor, the smell. And I don't want you cheating and knowing ahead of time what you'retasting."

He wasn't proposing anything indecent, or sexual even, yet as darkness descended over her eyes and she felt his fingers tying a knot in the scrap of silk at the back of her head, a strange, forbidden thrill rippled through her. Once he had her blindfold secure, he gently tucked the sides of her hair behind her ears-to make sure the strands didn't get sticky with cake and frosting, she was guessing. But his touch lingered longer than necessary. His fingers traced the delicate, sensitive shell of her ears, and his knuckles lightly skimmed along her jaw.

Her breasts tightened in response to his caress, and she managed a breathless laugh. "Is touching me part of your experiment?"

"I'm just making sure your senses are alert."

Her senses were electrified, and more alive than they'd ever been before. And she had no idea where his eyes were, but she felt themeverywhere. She resisted the urge to squirm.

"How many fingers am Iholding up?" he asked.

A teasing smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Two and a half."

He chuckled, and the masculine timbre of that sound shimmied down her spine with impossible pleasure. "Good. Your vision is definitely impaired."

He moved away for a moment, she heard a box opening and other sounds she couldn't identify, and then he returned to the cove between her thighs.

"Here's the first one," he said, and brushed her bottom lip with the confection.

She parted her lips at his urging and took a dainty bite of what he offered. Immediately, she identified it as the white cake. It was moist with a buttercream frosting… and very ordinary tasting. She kept her revelation to herself, still believing vanilla was their safest bet to please thirty people.

"This is the vanilla for sure," she said as she chewed and swallowed. "Are you eating it, too?"

"I'll skip this one." Another box opened. "I already know how bland and boring vanilla is."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I can hardly wait to taste whatyou selected. Fruitcake, maybe?"

That deep, rich laugh again. And then two things assailed her senses at the same time as he took his place in front of her. The delectable fragrance of chocolate, and a burning sensation where he rested his palm on her thigh. The combination nearly short-circuited her central nervous system.

With effort, she concentrated on the scent wafting beneath her nose. "Chocolate?" she guessed.

"Ahh, but this isn't your ordinary chocolate cake."

She inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of something richer and more decadent. Since he wasn't forthcoming with the flavor, she sampled it for herself. Cocoa, a hint of coffee in the frosting and filling, and chocolate mocha candy shavings that all but melted in her mouth.

"Oh, wow," she murmured appreciatively. She licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth, feeling ravenous and greedy. "Can I have another bite?"

"I thought you might like that one." He fed her another morsel, and slowly dragged his fingers along her lower lip. "It's called Chocolate Mocha Rapture."

Rapture.Her eyes rolled heavenward. Oh, yeah, she'd definitely been transported to another plane. Her body felt flushed, drugged, heavy.Aroused.

He pressed a chilled plastic bottle in her hand and urged it up to her mouth. "Take a drink to cleanse your palate. I don't want anything to taint the next flavor."

Though the water was cold and refreshing sliding down her throat, it did nothing to extinguish the flames Ryan's "experiment" had ignited. Setting the bottle next to her on the table, she waited anxiously for the next dessert.

"Now here we have something sweet andvery sinful."

Her nostrils flared as a luscious aroma consumed her senses. Her stomach rumbled, and she licked her lips in anticipation.

"Open up," he murmured.

She did, and groaned as an exquisite flavor filled her mouth. Ripe strawberries. Whipped cream filling. A light, fluffy frosting. Shavings of white chocolate. She was certain she'd died and gone to heaven.

"More?" he asked, seemingly knowing exactly what she liked.

She nodded, beyond caring that she wanted to overload her senses with the lush sensuality of Ryan's taste test, or that he'd probably gloat later over proving his point that vanilla was a bland choice. She'd never savored such divine recipes, never felt so seduced by tastes and textures.

"Please," she said, parting her lips for him. She took such a huge, devouring bite that the cream filling oozed out of the middle. Instinctively, she lifted her hand to stop the flow, and by luck caught the dollop in her palm, but not before she'd smeared it along her chin, too.

"Argh." The sound of distress caught in her throat. Then, unable to help herself, she laughed with frivolous lightness. "I'm making a mess. I hope you brought napkins."

"Don't need 'em," he replied, his voice infused with amusement, and something far more mischievous. "I'll take care of the spills and leftovers."

She assumed he meant to clean up later when they were done, so she wasn't prepared for his more resourceful method. He caught her wrist and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his warm mouth nibble off the portion of cake stuck to her palm. A hot ache spread through her as his teeth grazed her flesh, and she all but melted when he thoroughly laved her fingers, then flicked his tongue wickedly along the crevices between. And when he was done with her hand, he went to work on her chin, eating the crumbs and licking away the frosting and filling with agonizingly slow laps of his tongue.

He indulged in her as ifshe were dessert

"Delicious, and so sweet," he murmured, his low voice vibrating against her cheek.

A sultry pressure coiled low as she waited anxiously for him to complete his task and make his way to her mouth and kiss her deeply…

It never happened. As if he hadn't completely turned her inside out with wanting, he moved away and returned to the business at hand, selecting another cake for her to try. This one was Butter Brickle Ecstasy, and it was everything the name implied… pure, unadulterated bliss for the taste buds.

With each sampling, he tempted and teased her, and she luxuriated in the provocative pleasures he evoked. He used his lips and tongue to clean up the sticky messes she deliberately made, yet always stopped short of kissing her mouth.

Frustration nipped at her. She wanted to take off the blindfold and participate without hindrance-and entice him in return. He insisted it remain, or the experiment ended.

He won, because she wasn't ready or willing to forfeit the delightful confections still to come.

He went on to feed her Fuzzy Navel Cake drenched with peach schnapps that she couldn't seem to get enough of, and a melt-in-your-mouth champagne cake with French buttercream frosting that made her feel giddy and drunk-not on alcohol, but the insatiable desire he was gradually building within her.

But it was the last selection that completely undid her: moist chocolate cake layered with chocolate mousse, drizzled with creamy caramel, and topped with a cloud of whipped cream and chunks of butter toffee. This cake was gooey, messy, but a sumptuous feast that tantalized her mouth and pleased her belly.

She moaned deep in her throat as the contents dissolved on her tongue and slid down her throat like honeyed silk. "This cake isincredible. What is it called?"

He offered her another bite, knowing from previous requests that she wouldn't settle for just one taste. "Would you believe the bakery called it Better Than Sex Cake?"

She licked the corner of her mouth, not wanting to spare even a smudge of whipped cream, caramel, or chocolate mousse. "Oh, God, they're right." She sighed in undisguised gratification. "This is almost…euphoric."

"Do you really think it's that much better?" he asked, his tone dubious.

"In my experience, yeah," she said, realizing too late just how much she'd revealed.

There was a pause, then, "This cake, no matter how incredible, doesn't compare to the real thing… not when you're with the right person."

And her one and only lover obviously hadn't been that right person. Suddenly feeling self-conscious under Ryan's scrutiny, she decided it was time to end their playful game, and reached for the blindfold to remove it from her eyes.

His fingers gently encircled her wrist, stopping her before she could tug the tie loose. His touch was firm, hot, branding her.

"Not yet," he said in a low, sexy voice. "Maybe you'd like more?" His comment was double edged, giving her the distinct impression that he was referring to more than just feasting on the exotically named cake she'd just eaten. "It's right here, Jessie, in the palm of my hand. Just reach out and take it, and the euphoria can be all yours. As much as you like, for as long as you want."

Cocooned in darkness, stimulated by his words and the sexual slant of their conversation, Jessica's heart beat erratically in her chest. He'd issued her a subtle dare, a flagrant invitation… beckoning her to give in to her secret desires and experience just how good sex, with the right person, could be.

She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. "I don't want to eat the cake alone," she whispered.

"I don't like to eat my cake alone, either," he said, humor and understanding mingling. "How about we share it, then?"

"All right," she agreed.

Standing between her legs again so she was surrounded by his scent and heat, he took her hand and slowly guided it to the side where the cakes were displayed. She had no idea what he intended, but entrusted herself to him and followed his lead.

She sucked in a quick, startled breath as he eased her fingers into the soft, silky layers of cake-all the way up to her knuckles. His own hand slid along hers as he encouraged her to play in the ingredients and feel the various textures, all of which had suddenly become very intoxicating to her senses.

Her entire body tingled with a strange excitement. "This feels…"

"Arousing?" he suggested.

Oh, yeah, definitely that.She grinned, not sure she was ready to admit just how much his provocative demonstration was affecting her. "I was thinking more along the lines of squishy."

He chuckled. "Then maybe we need to alter your way of thinking." He entwined their fingers, tangled them sensuously, using the mousse, caramel, and whipped cream to lubricate the rhythmic slide of his fingers between hers. He leaned into her, so his lips grazed her ear."This is how good sex feels with the right person… slippery, sensual,erotic."

She bit her lower lip as an illicit, liquid warmth cascaded over her and pooled between her thighs. She had no choice but to believe him. Shewanted to believe that making love could be so thrilling, so impetuous, so rapturous.

Too soon, he lifted his hand from hers, slowly dragging it out of the cake and away. She flinched in startled surprise when his sticky, gooey fingers touched her mouth.

"And this is how good sextastes," he murmured huskily as he smeared the luscious concoction along her bottom lip. "Sweet, heady,euphoric. Taste it, Jessie, and see for yourself."

His sexy words tempted her. Unable to stop herself, her tongue darted out, slowly licking away the confection.

This is how good sex tastes.

His promise rumbled through her mind, and suddenly, one taste wasn't enough. "I want more," she said in a low, breathy voice.

His finger returned, gently pressing down on her bottom lip until they parted and she took him inside the damp heat of her mouth. Removing her own hand from the cake, she grabbed his wrist so he couldn't pull back while she tormented him the same way he'd done to her. Heedless of the mess they were smearing everywhere, she nibbled the chocolate and caramel from his fingers, then leisurely stroked and swirled her tongue along each individual digit in an instinctive, up-and-down rhythm. She felt him shudder and heard him let out a hiss of breath in response.

She heard him swear, felt him try and tug his hand back, but she held firm. Her hunger had become a rapacious thing, and it wasn't for cake and sweets, but for the need to experienceslippery, sensual, erotic sex. With Ryan.

She felt his body shift in front of her, wedging himself more intimately between her thighs, and then his mouth was on hers, urgent and insistent, and she relinquished his fingers for the pleasure of his kiss.

And from there, everything went wild and out of control. He swept an arm around her back and hauled her up against his body, forcing her legs wider to accommodate his hips and the unyielding press of his fierce erection against her aching cleft. They were fused from lips to thighs, and she still wasn't close enough.

Spearing her cake-encrusted fingers into the warm, thick hair at the nape of his neck, she arched into him, opening her mouth wider beneath his to accept the hot, sexual thrusts of his tongue. One of his hands mimicked her move, cupping the back of her head, threading through the hair that wasn't restrained by the blindfold. The fingers of his other hand caressed her jaw, her throat, and skimmed lower until he held the full weight of her breast in his palm. He kneaded the mound of flesh, searing her with breathtaking heat. His thumb flicked across the diamond-hard nipple straining against her cotton shirt, plucked the tip delicately, and a needy moan escaped her.

Feverish desire clawed at her, submersing her deeper under Ryan's spell. Being blindfolded and ravished was like being swept up into a dark, forbidden fantasy. The thrill of it was liberating.

Unexpectedly, he lifted his lips from hers, putting her system in immediate withdrawal. Their breath mingled in rapid bursts, and he threw her off-kilter again when he pressed an achingly light and tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Go out with me," he rasped.

"No," she groaned automatically, so used to rejecting him that it had become second nature.

He swooped in for another kiss, this one slower than the last, more persuasive, more possessive. "One date," he uttered once he let her up for air.

Her resolve crumbled a fraction. "Maybe."

He took her under again, thoroughly consuming her mouth until her lips felt swollen and devoured. He brushed his knuckles over her erect nipples, teasing and tormenting her. He moved on, trailing kisses along her jaw. His fingers pulled down the collar of her turtleneck so he had access to nuzzle her throat.

She shuddered uncontrollably at the hot, wet glide of his tongue across her skin, and whimpered as he drew her flesh between his teeth for a love bite.

"Dinner and drinks." His hoarse, urgent whisper scalded her ear. "Say yes, Jessie."

Dizzy from the blindfold, faint and flushed from his sensual assault, she obeyed his command. "Yes."

She stiffened, just as the phone on the kitchen counter rang.

Oh, God, had she really surrendered and said yes to Ryan Matthews?

The phone pealed again. She didn't move, and neither did Ryan, though she could hear his heavy, labored breathing, could feel the virile heat radiating off him, and smell what she now knew was the scent of goodsex… sweet, heady, euphoric.

Silently, she cursed the blindfold that had completely stripped away her restraints and inhibitions. Unable to see Ryan, her feminine wants and needs had taken precedence over the fact that this man before her was all wrong for her.

Her answering machine clicked on, and her voice echoed in the quiet kitchen with a brief outgoing message, followed by a shrill beep.

"Hi, Jess, it's Brooke," her sister said, sounding upbeat and cheerful. "I received an invitation in the mail today for a New Year's Eve party at Ryan Matthews', and I'm assuming you got one, too. I also wanted to talk to you about Christmas. Give me a call tonight at home or tomorrow at the office. Love ya."

The line disconnected, and the answering machine clicked off.

Unexpected guilt swamped Jessica, as if her sister had personally caught her in a naughty act. And she was very naughty for consorting with the enemy, for allowing him to breach her well-constructed barriers. With pleasure infusing her veins, she'd forgotten one important issue while he'd coaxed her into agreeing to go out on a date with him-she didn't like divorce attorneys.

But she liked Ryan. Wanted him. Desired him.

His long fingers slipped beneath the band of silk concealing her vision and lifted it over her head. She squinted as the bright kitchen light pierced her eyes and her pupils contracted. Gradually, her gaze focused. On the man standing in front of her, who was watching her guardedly. On the disarray of baked goods around the table. Crumbs littered the table, thefloor, and her jeans. There was cake and filling everywhere-on his shirt, his face, arm, and hands. She hadn't survived the attack, either. Her cheek was sticky, as were her fingers. And she had a white hand-print on her shirt, outlining her breast.

She dragged a shaky hand through her hair, and winced as her fingers tangled in a clump of frosting stuck to the strands. "What a mess…"she'd made ofthings, her conscience finished for her.

Oh, Lord, staring into his intense, deep-brown eyes, she was so utterly confused. Undoubtedly, her emotions were tangled up in the passion he inspired, making her forget all the reasons why it would be so foolish to let herself get any more involved with him.

She fabricated a smile. "You win," she conceded, scooting off the table.

He stepped to the side out of her way, but continued to eye her cautiously, as if he knew just how skittish she'd become now that she'd had time to assess what they'd done. "What's the prize?"

"Proving me wrong." Desperately, she tried to affect a business demeanor, which was difficult to do when her body still throbbed and ached for something that would never happen with Ryan.

Slippery, sensual, erotic sex.

She pressed a hand to still the fluttering in her belly at that thought, and smudged more frosting on her clothing. She grimaced. She needed a shower, and she needed distance from this man who threatened everything from her sanity to her beliefs.

"Vanilla is by far the most bland and boring cake I've ever tasted," she admitted, knowing it would be ridiculous for her to say otherwise, not after being such a glutton with the flavors he'd brought. "How about we order three of those cakes. Is that variety enough for you?"

"Sure." He didn't smirk or exult over the fact that he'd gained her acquiescence. Instead, he tipped his head, regarding her with warm concern. "You pick which ones."

Ignoring the silent question in his eyes that asked if she was okay, she glanced at the assortment of half-eaten desserts on the table. She was far from okay, but she'd be much better once he left and she scrambled to put her priorities back in line.

Which didn't includeslippery, sensual, erotic sex with Ryan Matthews.

Selecting only three flavors was a difficult task, especially when they'd all been so delicious. "How about we go with strawberries and cream, the champagne cake, and butter brickle?" She deliberately kept the names short and precise, without the sexy labels he'd used to describe them.

"Good choices," he said as a too-intimate smile curved his mouth. "Though I think the Better Than Sex Cake would be a great conversation piece for the guests."

Unwilling to let him think she couldn't handle ordering that particular cake because of the sensual memories it evoked, she gave an uncaring shrug. "I'll add it to the order."

An awkward silence fell between them, rife with sexual and emotional undercurrents-neither of which Jessica wanted to bring out in the open and discuss.

She grappled for an excuse to end the evening with Ryan. "I, uh, need to take a shower. I have frosting and cake everywhere." She waved a hand toward the mess on the table. "Just leave everything and I'll clean it up later. When you're done washing up, lock the door behind you."

Without giving him an opportunity to reply or a chance to postpone his departure, she made a beelinedown the hall and sought the private sanctuary of her bedroom.

Ryan released a long stream of breath that did little to ease the self-reproach twisting inside him. He wasn't going anywhere, not until he'd cleaned up the messhe'd made of things. With Jessica.

He'd rushed her. Overwhelmed her. And that had never been his intent. He'd merely meant to show her how fantastic the chemistry was between them, and open her up to the possibility of giving him a fair chance at being something more than a party-planning buddy.

She'd definitely been a willing partner in what had transpired on this very table-lush, wanton and uninhibited. Her compliance had been genuine, her enthusiastic response to his kisses and caresses unfeigned. But her body and mind weren't in harmony, and that was the crux of their problem.

While his seductive demonstration had succeeded in stripping Jessica of her physical reserve, it hadn't completely diminished her reluctance to trust him. She harbored doubts and fears that stretched beyond wallowing in sexual gratification. And for a reason that he hadn't completely sorted out yet in his own head, hewanted her trust-just as much as he wanted to make love to her and introduce her to all the pleasures she'd been denied.

He knew if he left now as she'd insisted, he'd give her the perfect opportunity to retreat and shore up those defenses of hers. And that wouldn't do. He'd merely scratched the surface of Jessica's complexities, and he wasn't through discovering the depth of those fascinating layers.

With his next strategy filtering through his mind, he set about tidying up the kitchen. Most of the small cakes were destroyed from their taste test, and weren't worth saving. He tossed the remnants and boxes in the trash, wiped down the table, and picked up the crumbs that had fallen on the floor. Then he went into the bathroom he found off the living room and scrubbed his hands and arms free of dried frosting and cake. He rinsed the confection from his face, and decided there wasn't anything he could do about his hair until he took his own shower at home.

If things had ended more positively, he might be sharing Jessica's shower with her, he thought with a rueful smile at himself in the mirror. The image of her naked and wet, with water sluicing down the sleek curves she hid, invaded his musings. The vivid fantasy caused a liquid heat to rush to his groin. He swore and splashed cold water over his face.

A half an hour later, Jessica finally exited her bedroom and found him reclining against the tiled counter with a bottle of cold water in his hand, and the kitchen spotless.

She came to an abrupt stop when she saw him. Wariness instantly colored her eyes, made more strikingly blue by her freshly scrubbed face and the damp strands of honey-blond hair falling haphazardly to her shoulders. She wore an old terry robe that swallowed her up in the folds of worn material, from neck to ankles. On her feet were a pair of pink house slippers.

And in that moment, she appeared incredibly vulnerable to him.

Then her chin lifted a stubborn notch, reminding him of the spitfire he was used to dealing with. "You're still here," she said, her voice indicating her surprise. "I told you it wasn't necessary for you to clean up."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I contributed to the mess. It was the least I could do." Finished with his water, he tossed the plastic bottle into the recycle bin under the sink, then resumed his position against the counter.

"Well, thank you for your help."And now you're free to leave, her tone silently added.

"You're welcome." He didn't budge.

She released an exasperated sound beneath her breath, and tugged on the sash to her robe, tightening it around her slender waist. The lapels billowed open slightly, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of smooth skin and the beginning slope of one breast. He wondered if she was completely naked beneath the terry material, and resisted the urge to reach out, untie her belt, and find out for himself…

She crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat, effectively drawing his attention upward. Her eyes flared with impatience… and awareness. "Ryan… it's getting late, and you really should go."

"In a minute," he said in a slow, deliberate drawl. "You owe me something, and I didn't want to leave without it."

"Money for the cakes?" She asked the question in such a hopeful way that he knew she'd purposely misconstrued his meaning. She moved past him to open a drawer beneath the counter, leaving a scented trail of jasmine in her wake. "I don't have any extra cash on me, but I'd be happy to write you a check-"

He grabbed her hand before she could retrieve her checkbook, and closed the drawer with a bump of his hip. He waited until she looked up at him. "I don't want your money, Jessie. I wantyou," he said softly, sincerely. "And you owe me a date."

She extricated her arm from his grasp. "You obtained that date under duress,counselor."

He couldn't contain the laugh that escaped him. "You call the way you kissed meduress?"

Her mouth pursed, and he was half-tempted to haul her up against him and kiss her senseless again, until she melted and admitted the truth-that she'd been a willing participant in what had taken place on the table behind her.

"I certainly wasn't in the right frame of mind to make any kind of decision, and being the lawyer you are, you took advantage of that fact."

He shook his head at her reasoning, seeing it for the excuse it was, and a poor one at that. "So, does this mean you're reneging on your promise?"

She picked at a piece of lint on her sleeve, her gaze downcast, her voice resigned. "I think you and I ought to just stick to party planning."

In his estimation, they'd gone too far to backpedal to platonic friends. Yet it was obvious that he still needed to tread slowly and cautiously with her. "Would you go out with me in the guise of doing me a favor?"

That captured her attention. She lifted her head and met his gaze, waiting to hear his proposition.

"Ido need a date," he inhaled, taking a huge leap of faith, "for my firm's Christmas party."

Her incredulous expression told him his risk hadn't paid off. "Me? In a room full of lawyers?" She flattened a hand to her chest, her eyes wide, and visibly shuddered. "No, thank you."

"One date," he said, not ready to give up just yet. "No strings attached. I swear it."

A slow, devious smile played around the corner of her mouth. "How do you know when a lawyer is lying?"

Having been the recipient of that particular joke before, he knew the punch line. "His lips are moving," he replied with a grin.

"Exactly,"she said, obviously believing he was weaving a fib of his own.

"Aw, come on, Jessie," he said in a low,deep voice. "You know you want to accept… maybe just a little?"

He grabbed the tail end of her sash and gave it aplayful tug.

She shook her head adamantly and pushed her hands into the side pockets of her robe. "Not only am I refusing for personal reasons, I don't do fancy, schmancy parties. I'm sure it won't be difficult for you to find some other willing female to adorn your arm."

He still held on to the belt of her robe, suspecting if he let go she'd bolt. And he wanted to keep her near. "I askedyou because I don't want to go with anyone else." And that was the truth, whether she believed him or not.

"Then it looks like you'll be attending solo." The barest hint of regret tinged her voice. "I'm sorry, Ryan… Ican't do it. It's those personal ethics of mine and all. You understand."

Her excuse was a familiar one, but this time he wasn't going to accept her obscure argument, not when he suddenly had more at stake than just securing a date to his firm's holiday party-like securing her trust. "The thing is, Jessie, I don't understand those personal ethics of yours. Not completely. It has to do with me being a divorce attorney, that I know, butwhy?"

She didn't reply. Instead, he watched those defenses of hers slowly rise, saw it in the stiffening of her spine and the guarded look in her eyes, and knew if he didn't act fast he'd lose the opportunity to reach beyond those barriers she was about to erect.

He wove his fingers casually through the end of her sash, keeping her close. "How is it that you can respond to me the way you did earlier, so openly and honestly, yet shut me out emotionally? I can't help but take that personally, Jessie."

She swallowed, hard, but her gaze remained steady on his. "I apologize if you feel that I led you on."

"No, I don't feel that way at all." He smiled gently. "I think you're scared, and maybe confused, and that's okay. But I think I've earned the right to knowwhat you're afraid of."

Her chin lifted a notch, but she appeared more vulnerable than mutinous. "All right. I'm very attracted to you, but beyond the physical attraction, I'm having a difficult time getting past what you do for a living, and everything it implies."

He'd known his occupation posed a problem for her from the very beginning, but he wanted deeper knowledge. "You mean me being a divorce attorney?" he asked, coaxing her to open up even more.

"That's part of it," she said, nodding guardedly. "I'm not fond of divorce attorneys. I saw firsthand with my mother and father just how cold and calculating people in that profession can be. I watched my father's cutthroat lawyer nearly destroy my mother, and rip apart our family, all for his client's benefit. My mother struggled for years after the divorce just to make ends meet, while my father walked away with a nicely padded bank account and a charming new life without any familial responsibilities."

Her words didn't paint a flattering picture at all, and made his heart go out to the little girl who'd witnessed that devastating separation, and to the woman who was still affected by her father's abandonment. "And that's what you think I do for a living?"

"Don't you?" The challenge in her voice was unmistakable.

He paused. How to explain without incriminating himself? "What happened to your mother, your family, was very unfortunate, but there're always two sides to every case. And while some divorces aren't pleasant and amicable, I try to look at all my cases objectively and represent my clients to the best of my ability,withfacts."

"Even if that means ruining the other person's life in the process?"

"Sometimes I represent that defendant, and women like your mother who struggle not to get shafted by their conniving husbands. It all depends on the couple and circumstances involved. Some cases are simple and friendly. Others are ugly and vicious. I have no control over the personality types I represent, and trust me when I say that there areall kinds."

She stepped away, and he released his hold on her sash, suspecting that she needed the emotional distance. He was stunned by the depth to which Jessica was affected by her parents' divorce. It was evident that she carried the bitterness of a childhood gone bad, and that her experiences had caused her to be wary and cautious, not just of divorce attorneys, but of men in general.

From across the kitchen, she slanted him a curious look. "So, you actually enjoy what you do?"

He slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans as he mulled that over, thinking about the past six years of his career, the highlights and the frustrating cases he'd had to represent. "Most of the time, I do. I'll admit that sometimes I'll take on a case that's mentally draining, but I love the challenge of my job, and the complexities involved." He thought of his long-term intentions, and shared those, too. "I'm working towards being a junior partner, and possibly heading up the family law department at Haywood and Irwin. But the main reason I chose a career in law was to help people."

The corner of her mouth quirked with a smile. "Why not be a doctor then?"

"I thought about it," he replied honestly. "But when I almost threw up while dissecting a frog in high school biology I knew I'd never make it through med school. I'm too squeamish when it comes to blood and guts." He grinned in amusement and saw her bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "So, instead, I concentrated my efforts on the debate team, and discovered that I really enjoyed disputing issues and trying to sway people to agree with my ideals and opinions."

"Which you're very good at," she admittedly wryly.

He tipped his head, acknowledging the backhanded compliment. "Yet I can't seem to convince you to go out on a date with me, or accompany me to my firm's Christmas party."

She exhaled a slow breath, and combed her fingers through her still damp hair. "Ryan… what you do for a living goes against what I believe in. Despite what my mother went through with my father, and Brooke's own divorce, I still believe in love, marriage, and happily-ever-afters. It's what I want for myself one day, with the right person."

And she obviously didn't consider him a candidate for the position. Her argument was solid and indisputable. And as much as he was attracted to her, as much as he was coming to care about her, he couldn't offer her the kind of promises she demanded, and deserved. She'd given him every reason to take a huge step back, to leave her alone, but he discovered he couldn't do it, because for the first time in his adult life, he wanted to take that huge stepforward with a woman… and see where it all might lead.

A scary prospect, even for him. But after a year of wanting Jessica, his gut twisted into a giant knot at the thought of completely severing all ties with her.

Armed with a new determination, he took that step forward, moving toward her, and she watched him close the distance between them. He smiled, and attempted to dispel the gloom their conversation had cast over the room. "Are yousure you won't consider coming to that Christmas party? It might give you a whole different perspective on lawyers."

"I doubt it. I think it would be smarter, and safer, if I didn't attend something as important as your firm's Christmas party with you."

Unwilling to admit defeat just yet, he tried a different approach. "I know I hit you with this unexpectedly, and I really didn't give you the chance to consider your answer-"

"I won't change my mind, Ryan," she said, firmly cutting off his entreaty.

"I'd like to think you will." He dared to reach out and touch her, gently stroking his thumb along her cheek. A sense of satisfaction filled him when she didn't retreat. "Just think about it, okay?"

And in the meantime, if the only way to dissolve her defenses was to use seduction, then they'd at least enjoy themselves in the process.