The Guy Next Door

Chapter one

ERIC DONOVAN DIDN’T often fantasize about strangling his younger brother. But this time, Jamie had outdone himself, and Eric was glad his brother wasn’t within arm’s reach.

The roar of the convention hall assaulted Eric’s ears, the noise ratcheting his tension to a whole new level as he handed out samples of Donovan Brothers beer to the crowds. Their booth was one of the most popular at the Boulder Business Expo, which was exactly why Jamie was supposed to be handling beer duty. Jamie was the face of Donovan Brothers, after all. Eric worked behind the scenes.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he shoved the tray of Flatiron Amber Ale toward the reaching hands and watched half the miniglasses disappear into the feeding frenzy.

“Well?” he snapped into the phone.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I can’t track him down. I’m going to have to stay at the brewery to cover his shift.”

“Shit,” Eric growled, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus his thoughts. “Jamie, this is…less than ideal.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I warned you that it’s never a good idea to hire a friend. And that goes doubly for you and the kind of slackers you hang around with. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I sent Henry over. He’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Henry is a dishwasher!”

“He can hand out samples as well as anyone else.”

Eric wiped a hand over his face and shook his head. “All right. I’ll handle it.” As usual.

“I’ll try to get—”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later.” The samples of ale were already gone. Eric snapped the phone shut and rushed to play bartender, checking the faces again to be sure they were all middle-aged. No problem there. The expo wasn’t exactly bubbling with teenagers.

Eric didn’t have his brother’s charm or easy way, but he could at least draw a few samples and get them out to the crowds. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hand out samples and strike a new distribution deal at the same time. Given the choice, he would’ve pulled out of this local conference altogether rather than miss the chance to negotiate with the owner of High West Air.

The airline was based in Denver and designed to compete with the newer, high-quality airlines. High West offered more legroom, no luggage fees and warm brownies on every flight. And Eric was this close to closing a deal to make Donovan Bothers Brewery the only beer on the menu. High West wanted something hipper than a big name brand, and Eric was determined to fill that need. It was a perfect partnership, but the owner of the airline was an arrogant pain in the ass and took pride in never being available for a meeting.

This time, Eric had him cornered. Roland Ken dall was at the expo, and Eric was going to nail him down.

Fifteen minutes later, he saw Henry hurrying toward the booth, and he felt his blood pressure drop a notch or two. This day could still be salvaged from the ruins, regardless of Jamie’s screwup. Henry, thankfully, had been outfitted in a brand-new Donovan Brothers polo shirt, so he looked almost like an actual bartender. He also looked closer to seventeen than twenty-one, so Eric could only pray the kid had brought his ID in case the authorities stopped by.

“Mr. Donovan,” he panted. “Jamie said—”

“Can you draw a beer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, keep the samples going out. Be polite. Smile. Ask for ID if anyone looks under thirty-five. And direct any questions to me. All right?”

“Sure. No problem.”

Keeping one eye on Henry to be sure he could handle the task, Eric pulled out his phone and placed a call to Roland Kendall. “Yeah?” a harsh voice answered.

“Mr. Kendall, this is Eric Donovan. I’m hoping to take you to lunch today.”

The man grunted in response. He was a grouch, no question about it, and he loved being the one with the upper hand. “I can’t do lunch,” he barked. “I’m getting together with a supplier.” A real supplier, he meant. Eric ground his teeth together, hard. He’d been working this bastard for six months. “Dinner then?”

“Not tonight.”

He tempered his voice, hoping to hide his frustration. “How about tomorrow? Mr. Kendall, you know how determined I am to secure this contract. Give me one chance to tell you what we have to offer.”

Another grunt. Eric rolled his eyes.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Kendall said just before the line went dead.

Christ, this guy was killing him. The bastard clearly wanted Eric to do a little more begging. Fine. He was strong enough to handle that if it meant taking the brewery to the next level. Getting his beer into the hands of national travelers would create new demand for the product. And new demand meant new territory.

He snapped the phone shut and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Donovan?” Henry called.

Eric took a deep breath. When he looked up, he saw that Henry was scrambling with the glasses but still keeping up. Then Henry tipped his head toward the far edge of the table, and Eric saw a familiar face and found himself smiling for real.

“Donovan!” Andrés Villanueva called with a wave. He was the top chef in Boulder and had just opened another restaurant that the critics were going nuts for. Eric grabbed two samples and headed over.

“Congratulations on all the buzz,” he said, handing Andrés a glass. They clicked glasses and downed the ale, and Eric felt marginally more relaxed as the bitter coolness soothed his nerves.

“Hey, we got your new summer wheat on tap,” Andrés said. “Really nice. A little hoppier than last year’s. I like it. Give my compliments to your brewmaster.”

“I will, thanks.”

“We’re having a tasting dinner tonight in the Evergreen suite. Come by. Seven o’clock.”

“I hope you’re serious, because I haven’t managed to sit down to one of your meals in months.”

“Absolutely. Bring Jamie, too.”

“He’s covering the bar today.”

“Damn,” Andrés said with a grin. “I was hoping he’d bring a beautiful date I could steal out from under his nose. I swear to God, I almost succeeded with that blonde he brought in last fall.”

Eric could only laugh, because he’d be damned if he could figure out which blonde it might’ve been. “I’ll see you at seven.”

By the time Andrés moved on to the next booth, Eric’s mood was considerably lighter. He wanted to get out from behind the table and mix it up himself, but until his brother got the staffing mess straightened out back at the brewery, Eric was going to be stuck here. He’d better make the most of it.

The brewery was in a unique position. Sure, they needed all the friends he could garner in the food and beverage industry in Colorado, but contacts outside the industry were important too. Donovan Brothers wasn’t a restaurant-style business. It was strictly the brewery and tasting room. So to keep their name in the public eye, they sponsored marathons and charity events. They threw parties at the finish line of bike races and worked with up-and-coming art galleries on openings. Eric had worked damn hard to saturate the Colorado market of restaurants and bars, and now it was time to expand.

He worked the crowd until the lunchtime lull then stepped back to return a call from his glassware supplier. Halfway through the conversation, he caught sight of a woman a few booths down. She wore a straight brown skirt that stopped at a respectable length, just a millimeter below her knees, but the fabric cradled her tight ass like a glove. His words slowed to a stop.

“Eric?” the salesman prompted.

“Right. Sorry. Yeah, Wednesday will be fine. I’ll see you then.” He disconnected, his eyes still locked on the brunette as she laughed and shook her head at a man visiting her table. Her dark hair was pinned up in some sort of professional-looking twist, and she wore a white button-down blouse with her brown skirt. Totally conservative, yet something about her radiated sensuality. Maybe it was the small waist offset by that round little ass. Maybe it was the long neck. Or maybe it was the pair of four-inch dark green heels he glimpsed when she walked to the far end of her booth.

Yeah. It was definitely the heels.

Eric cleared his throat and got busy unpacking more of the souvenir glasses. He stacked them within easy reach of the tap, gathered up the used glasses people had left behind and stowed them in the empty box. Then he glanced toward the other booth again. This time, she was on the phone, looking serious now, nibbling on a fingernail while she listened. Eric watched as her lips closed over the tip of one finger before she shook her head and started talking. He knew he was only imagining the tiny glint of wetness on her nail, but he narrowed his eyes anyway.

She probably wasn’t as sexy as he thought she was. He was just stressed. And she had a sweet face that seemed a warning against thinking dirty thoughts. He spared one more look for her curves then put his head down and finished packing. But when he stood and hoisted the box to his shoulder, his eyes swept by her again, and he realized she was watching.

His double take was less than subtle. There was no covering it up. Her eyes slid away, but they touched on him again a second later. Her lips quirked in the briefest of smiles.

With the box on his shoulder, Eric couldn’t just stand there staring, so he turned and walked out of the booth, his head buzzing with awareness. He couldn’t quite tell her age—somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, maybe. Old enough that she wasn’t just some pretty face hired to be a marketing bunny.

“I’ll be back in five,” he called to Henry before heading toward the loading area. He didn’t need to walk by her booth, but on the return trip, loaded down with a box of clean glassware, Eric took the long way around, just out of curiosity. He was still fifty feet away when it became clear the woman was no longer at her station.

He was in the middle of a mental shrug when the booth branding became visible. The stylized letters of the sign became words. The words registered in his brain and took on meaning. Eric’s mental shrug became a psychic flailing.

Ho-ly shit.

No wonder she oozed sensuality. The woman worked for a sex shop. Oh, the sign said “erotic boutique,” but a sex shop by any other name was…

Good God.

His pulse sped as he walked by, trying not to stare. But that was probably conspicuous as hell. Every other red-blooded man in the vicinity was staring.

The White Orchid. Hell, even the name was sexy-class, just like the woman. He knew of the place, of course. It was infamous and only a half mile away from the brewery. He’d never been inside, but the art deco-style building appeared completely benign, offering no hint at the naughty wares sold inside. The displays in the large windows were tasteful. High-heeled boots and cute little hats, not a sex toy to be seen. Not in the window, anyway.

Eric’s heart pounded as if a bullet had just zipped past his ear, but as he slipped back into the comfort of his safe, unsexy booth, he wasn’t sure why. Had his pulse picked up because he’d just avoided a bullet? Or because he’d come so close to an amazing explosion?

Whatever the reason, he kept his eyes straight ahead for the next half hour. Still, his brain spun to a blur with thoughts of what a woman like her might be like if someone got a chance to get close to her.

“BETH,” CAIRO GROANED, “I can’t take another minute here with these people. It’s geek city.”

Beth Cantrell nodded as if she understood, but she was occupied with staring at the hunky geek serving beer a few stalls over. She’d taken her lunch when he’d disappeared earlier, hoping she might accidentally run into him in the hall, but no such luck. She was back now though, and enjoying the show.

“Actually, you know what?” Cairo said. “They’re not geeks. Geeks can be hot. These guys are just…dweebs. Preppy dweebs.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Beth agreed. Preppy dweebs were the horror of her friends’ existence, but they were Beth’s secret, shameful craving. A secret she’d carry to her grave. All the women in her world dated edgy guys. Men with tattoos and piercings. Men who lived alternative lifestyles that matched up perfectly with the alternative girls who worked at The White Orchid. Unfortunately, Beth’s image was a bit like a mirage in a desolate sexual desert.

She eyed the dark-haired guy in the blue polo shirt again. She’d caught him looking a couple of times.…

Cairo gave a long-suffering sigh. “I told you this was a stupid idea, Beth. A business convention? We don’t belong here.”

That snapped her out of her distraction. “Excuse me? We’re a legitimate, profitable local business. How do we not belong at the business expo? I’ve already arranged a meeting with that cute little slipper company—”

“Oh, right. The kitten heels!”

“And I’m very interested in the tea shop. The owner says there are several tea blends that are supposed to enhance female sexual experience, and she’d love to have a feature in the store. Next winter, we could do a front table with the teas and those white-fur panties. I think we still have that Russian fur cap…” That would be spectacular, now that she thought of it. A mannequin wearing faux-fur bikini bottoms, a little bustier top and the Russian hat, standing next to a table with an array of female aphrodisiac teas. Not with the kitten-heeled slippers, though. Furry snow boots would be perfect. Maybe they could even prop a little teacup in the mannequin’s hand…

“Cairo,” she said, “do you want to try out one of the teas?”

“Sure, but maybe you should try it instead. When was the last time you had any action?”

No way was Beth going to reveal that answer. “The point is not to torture anyone. I want to know if the teas really increase blood flow to the sex organs. And if they work, you have the perfect outlet—or two—to help alleviate the effects.”

Cairo grinned, her gorgeous face brightening to nuclear levels of pretty. No wonder she had two boyfriends. Two edgy, energetic boyfriends who were happy to entertain Cairo at the same time if that was what she was in the mood for. And she usually was.

Beth was thrilled for Cairo, and a tiny bit envious, but in all honesty, the idea of sleeping with two guys left Beth shaky with anxiety. Still, she hid her nervous thoughts behind a smile. “So will you try the tea?”

“I absolutely will. I’ll call you as soon as I know the results.”

“Well…take a few minutes to regain your strength first. Or a few hours.”

Cairo winked before heading back to the table to pass out more White Orchid magnets and pinup-girl pens. Things had quieted down, but a few men in business suits still hovered nearby. Cairo was adorable with her black pixie cut and sexy ’50s outfits. Her little red wrap dress managed to look innocent even as it showed off her fantastic rack and quite a bit of thigh.

The men looked either self-consciously amused when accepting one of the magnets, or they approached Cairo with a lascivious smile. Either way, Cairo could handle them. But Beth was more interested in the women. Women made up ninety-five percent of their clientele, just as Annabelle Mendez had planned when she’d opened The White Orchid fifteen years earlier.

Now Annabelle was off on a “soul-cleansing world tour,” and Beth was in charge of everything. Payroll, taxes, purchasing, human resources. Everything. And it felt good. She loved her job. She loved her employees. She loved that she spent her days helping women get closer to their sexual dreams. Too bad Beth couldn’t seem to get a handle on her own fantasies.

She glanced toward the guy in the polo shirt one more time and caught him looking again. Sparks zinged through her belly, and she smoothed a hand down the front of her fitted blouse.

God, he was cute. Square, clean-shaven jaw. Dark brown hair cut boardroom short. When he’d picked up that box, his biceps had flexed, stretching the arm-band of his shirt as if he were in one of those exercise-machine commercials.

He was Beth’s preppy fetish come to life. She didn’t even want to look at his ass in those khakis. It would drive her mad.

“Focus,” she scolded herself. She wasn’t here to drool after grown-up frat boys. She was here to make connections with other female-oriented business owners.

“I’m going to take a look at those two jewelry designers I scoped out earlier,” Beth said. “When I get back, you can take your lunch.”

Beth grabbed her phone so she could take notes and pictures then slipped out of the booth. She knew she’d have to walk past him, but she tried not to think about it. Still, she couldn’t stop her hips from swinging a little more fiercely as she approached. She knew the moment his eyes found her. She felt his stare like a stream of light sneaking through pine trees. As she drew even with his booth, her skin warmed.

Part of embracing your sexuality was loving your body, and Beth wasn’t modest about her ass. It was her best feature. She loved the shape of it, and this skirt loved it, too.

So she didn’t bother lying to herself. She had no doubt he was checking out her ass, and her whole body tingled as she glanced toward the booth. Donovan Brothers Brewery, the sign read. Air rushed out of her lungs. She knew that place. It was less than a mile away from The White Orchid. She dared a second look toward the table. Jamie Donovan, proprietor, read the little cardboard stand on the table.

When she let her eyes rise to him, their gazes met, and she felt her cheeks turn hot as she looked away. He was watching her as she moved on, she knew it, and she could barely hear the echoing noise of the place as she continued down the row of booths.

Jamie Donovan. The name turned through her brain for a moment. She’d heard of him, hadn’t she? He was…a bartender. Of course. A notoriously flirtatious bartender who sometimes wore a kilt. Even the girls in the shop had mentioned him on occasion, so he must be something special. But maybe those were just rumors. He didn’t strike her as a playful ladies’ man. His face was serious and his eyes were cool, and he was obviously an owner of the brewery.

But if he was a ladies’ man…

An idea took form. A ridiculous thought that she immediately dismissed. But the idea was sticky and sweet and it stuck in her head despite her attempts to bat it away.

She could have a fling. With him. She’d be just one fling among his many, after all. She’d mean nothing to him, and he might be worth the risk.

Still, he lived in her town and worked only a few minutes away from her. “Bad idea,” she murmured to herself. If her coworkers found out, she’d never live it down.

Squaring her shoulders, Beth headed toward the first jeweler she’d noticed. But thoughts of Jamie Donovan persisted. Her brain, which was normally cool and logical, was preforming excuses in anticipation of her arguments.

Yes, Boulder was a small town, but it wasn’t that small. They’d never run into each other before, after all. And Jamie Donovan clearly knew how to navigate these treacherous waters. She’d heard him called cute, funny, sexy and adorable. She’d also heard some serious compliments about what he had going on under his kilt. But she’d never heard him called a dog.

A flush took her face as she honestly considered the idea of flirting with him, testing the waters. But that felt dangerous. Anytime it got beyond flirting, Beth was lost. When you worked at an erotic boutique, men expected something more. Something better. And there was nothing more or better about Beth the way there was about Cairo or Annabelle or any of the other bold women she worked with.

Beth was just…regular.

But if it was a fling, it wouldn’t matter if he ended up disappointed, not as it did during real dating. There’d be no awkwardness. No breakup. No painful winding down until they “decided to see other people.” It would happen and it would be done.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be the sexual adventure she’d been waiting her whole life for.

But surely that was a lot to pin on one poor preppy bartender. Her smile widened with amusement as she waved at the designer she’d come to hunt down. A little sexual fantasy was good for a woman’s soul. At least Beth knew her soul would be getting some great fortification tonight.

Chapter two

ERIC WAS STUFFED FROM the ten courses of so-called small-bite plates he’d been served at the tasting dinner, but he made himself finish the salted caramel torte that had been set in front him. One, because it was only polite, and two, because it was the most delicious damn thing he’d ever tasted. The only thing missing from the meal had been a good lager, but wine had been a nice change. Not that he’d ever admit that to the person who’d invited him.

“Thank you, Andrés,” he said, standing to shake his friend’s hand. “Amazing. But next time, don’t forget the beer.”

“Beer is for peasants,” Andrés replied with a wide smile. Eric might have taken offense if he hadn’t raised so many pints with him.

“I’ll remind you of that next time you stop by the tasting room.”

Andrés handed him a little box wrapped with a gold bow. “A torte for your brother. I know how much he enjoys sweets.”

“Thanks. Stop by the brewery in a week. We’ve got an apricot hefeweizen that’s almost ready.”

“That’s a deal, my friend.”

Andrés moved on to the next table, and Eric took a last look around. He’d already schmoozed with everyone at the dinner, and he still had a younger brother to yell at, not to mention invoices to review back at his office. So he said his goodbyes and escaped to the quiet of the hallway. He was scrolling through his BlackBerry when he walked around the corner, sparing a glance down the hallway as he did. This part of the hotel was packed with meeting rooms and suites, and the hall was a jumble of corners and alcoves. The hallway jagged to the right about twenty feet ahead, and beyond the corner of the wall, Eric caught a glimpse of one green high-heeled shoe.

The tip of the dark green shoe tapped the floor in a languid rhythm. He watched it closely. His pace slowed.

As he drew closer, Eric saw a delicate ankle, then the curve of a smooth calf. And then he caught sight of the brown skirt.

It was her.

Despite his certainty, he was still surprised when he passed the corner and saw her profile. Her hair was down now, a sexy fall of sable brown that shone beneath the floodlight above her.

She leaned against a glass railing, staring down into the hotel atrium. Her arms rested on the railing, and one knee was bent, the foot still tapping out a secret rhythm against the floor.

Christ, those heels.

She turned her head then, and her gaze met his. For a moment, she looked just as shocked as he felt. Her lips parted. Her brown eyes went wide.

Eric’s focus fell to her red lipstick as she recovered herself and smiled.

“Hi,” she said, her voice just slightly husky at the edges. “You’re Jamie Donovan, right?”

“I—” His fingers twitched as he started to reach out to her. “Actually—”

“I’m Beth,” she continued. “Beth Cantrell.” Her hand slid into his, distracting him from correcting her.

“Nice to meet you, Beth.”

She laughed a little, and his stomach tightened at the sound. “In case you’re wondering if I’m a stalker, I saw the sign on your table. That’s how I know your name. And you’re a little notorious.”

“I am?”

She raised one shoulder in a shrug, and her fingers tightened for just a second before she drew her hand away. “Just a little,” she answered, her eyes twinkling.

She thought he was Jamie, which was kind of a surprise. He would’ve expected Jamie to be well-known at a place like The White Orchid. Still, she’d heard about his brother, and her grin was for Jamie, not Eric.

He meant to correct her. He really did. But he hesitated. Eric wouldn’t flirt with a woman who worked at a sex shop. He was responsible, careful and risk-averse. But Jamie? Jamie would do way more than flirt with her.

A door opened behind him, and she darted a nervous glance past his shoulder. He followed her gaze, but the man who stepped out of the room moved on down the hallway.

A peek at her ring finger revealed bare skin. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no. I just finished a marketing session. I need to waste a few minutes before the next presentation. It’s on tax prep. Are you going?”

“No, I was at a dinner.” He gestured down the hallway.

“The Andrés Villanueva dinner? Wow, you are lucky.”

“Are you a fan?”

“Who isn’t?”

Eric rubbed a thumb over the box in his hand, considering. It was meant for Jamie, but Jamie sure as hell didn’t deserve it. If he’d been at the expo as he was supposed to have been, he would’ve had his damn torte. “You’re not one of those women who doesn’t eat, are you?”

“No, I am definitely not one of those women.”

Offering a wolfish smile, Eric held up the box. “Want a little taste?”

Her dark brown eyes went wide. “What is that?” she demanded.

“It’s manna from heaven, also known as salted caramel torte.”

“Shut up,” she gasped.

He gave the box a little wiggle. “Want it?”

“Yes!”

The lustful anticipation on her face shot heat into Eric’s veins. She stared at the box as if it held something naughty. What were the chances that he’d be presenting her with a naughty gift?

“Wait here for one second,” he said before rushing back the way he’d come. He snuck into the room and snatched a clean fork and a napkin from a wheeled tray.

Still, he hesitated before stepping back into the hallway. He could just hand her the box and the fork and be on his way. Or he could watch her eat it.

Yeah, he was totally going to watch her eat it.

When he walked around the corner, she grinned in delight.

Eric held the fork just past her reach. “I noticed a seating area just past the elevators when I was lost earlier. You’ve got a few minutes?”

“I do. And if the dessert is everything you say it is, I might even chance being late to the tax seminar.”

“A risk taker.”

A laugh bubbled from her throat and she pressed a hand to her lips to stifle it. “Not really.”

He found that seriously hard to believe. “No?”

“Well…” Her gaze slid toward him and she gave him a quick once-over as they walked. “Maybe tonight I am.”

At that moment, Eric decided he was fully committed to taking this just as far as Jamie would. He deserved some fun just as much as the next Donovan Brother, didn’t he?

NERVOUS EXCITEMENT SHIMMERED along Beth’s skin as she followed the man around a corner and found herself in a small alcove with a coffee table and four chairs. Despite her anxiety, she took a moment to appreciate the picture he presented. He’d changed into dark slacks and a crisp blue button-down shirt. The pants fit him perfectly, showing off his narrow hips and tight ass. Nice.

She had yet to see his infamous kilt, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she’d much rather ogle his business attire.

He waved her into a chair before taking the one beside it. Then he handed over the prize.

“I should’ve grabbed you a glass of wine, too,” he said as she tugged at the elaborate gold ribbon.

“Oh, no. Wine before a tax seminar? I’d wake up two hours from now, sprawled across a whole row of chairs.”

The ribbon finally sprang free, and Beth made an effort not to tear the cardboard as she yanked it open. Buttery sweetness drifted upward and she sighed. “Oh, man.”

“Taste it,” he urged.

She crossed her legs, aware that a few inches of her thighs were exposed as the skirt snuck up. She didn’t bother easing it back down. Instead, she took the fork he offered and dug in.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned as the first bite of salty sweetness hit her tongue.

“Told you.”

She swallowed, fighting the urge to moan like a woman being pleasured. But she was being pleasured. By caramel and buttery crust and sea salt and chocolate.

“Oh, good Lord.”

She might sleep with this man just to reward him for the torte.

His eyes watched her mouth. She licked a crumb from her lip and watched his own lips part in response. For a brief moment, she was that woman. The woman she pretended to be for her coworkers and customers alike. The woman who knew all, because she’d lived all.

Maybe Jamie Donovan’s gift was making a woman feel like a sensual goddess. She didn’t even mind if this was his standard act, as long as she could push her way onto the stage.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her plate, still afraid to turn the flirtation into something else. Instead, she concentrated on cutting off a perfect bite of torte and savoring every second of flavor as she chewed.

“So,” he said slowly, “I passed your booth.”

“Oh?” She wished she’d asked for wine now. She’d had a vague hope that he hadn’t checked out her booth. That he’d talked her into dessert without any of the complications that came along with a man’s awareness of her work.

“Your job must be pretty interesting.” He was staying neutral. That was a good sign. People had varied reactions to The White Orchid, but oftentimes men fell into the sly and smarmy camp.

And her job was interesting.

Beth let herself smile. “There’s never a dull moment.”

“I bet. How did you end up working there? Or do you own the shop?”

“No. I interned there almost ten years ago, working for the owner, Annabelle Mendez. Somehow I never left.”

He coughed, choking on incredulity, it seemed. “You interned there? Like, as a kid?”

“As a college student. I was all grown up and legal, I promise.”

“But…what did you major in?”

“At first, anthropology, but I just happened upon a class in Cultural Sexuality, and it was fascinating. Then I took a higher-level course in Women’s Sexuality Through Western History, and…”

“And what?”

“And…suddenly, I found myself transferring to women’s studies with a minor in anthropology. I interned at The White Orchid as part of a course, and…here I am. It’s my passion.”

His eyebrows rose. “I had no idea that kind of passion could be so…scholarly.”

“Oh, yeah? How did you think I fell into this?”

“I don’t…” An honest-to-goodness blush crept over his cheeks.

Beth couldn’t quite believe it. Oh, she saw plenty of blushing customers at the store, but men never blushed because of her.

Something like liquid electricity zinged down her spine. Beth studied his face. He had a square jaw and a strong, straight nose. His eyes were smoky blue, almost gray, and his eyebrows were dark slashes above them.

As for his mouth…she could spend hours imagining the feel of those sculpted lips against hers.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” he finally offered, his smile both chagrined and charming.

He looked as if he would smell good. Like starch and shampoo. She decided to let him off the hook. “I’ll drop it.”

“Okay, great.” Relief chased across his face.

Beth ate her dessert and weighed her options. He was cute. Hot. Sexy. And well-known for flirtation, though he didn’t seem particularly forward. If she was brave enough to indulge her fetish for preppy guys, he might just be the perfect candidate for the job. He wouldn’t want anything more from her than she wanted from him. And how would her friends ever find out?

She took another bite to buy herself some time. His eyes watched as she raised the fork to her mouth. As soon as she swallowed, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. Have a bite.”

“No way. It’s all yours. I’m just enjoying watching.”

“Oh, yeah?” She couldn’t help but grin. “Interesting.”

His head dropped as he laughed.

Lust spun through her like a vicious flock of butterflies. She wanted this man. She wanted to touch him. Taste him. Feel his skin beneath her hands.

“Jamie—”

“Um, listen. Beth…”

“Yes?”

His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but he shook his head before saying a word. Was he nervous, or was this part of his shtick? If it was, it was totally working for her.

He cleared his throat. “I’d still like to get you a glass of wine. Can I buy you a drink?”

Uh-oh. This was do-or-die time. She’d flirted with him. She was interested in more. But that “more” had nothing to do with being seen in public with him. “You mean at the bar?”

“Actually, there’s a wine bar across the street. It’s a little less hectic.”

Her hands tightened around the box until the ends bowed. “I don’t think I can. I’ve got the seminar. But thank you.” Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a surge of disappointment. In herself.

She stood up so quickly that she swayed on her heels. He stood too and reached out to steady her with a respectful hand under her arm. God, he was so cute that it hurt.

“Right,” he said. “The seminar. Afterward then?”

“I…”

His mouth looked serious now. He was waiting for her to say no. She was waiting for it too. But that wasn’t the word that escaped her lips.

“Okay,” she said so softly that he leaned forward.

“Sorry?”

She cleared the fear from her throat. “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

“I could walk you—”

“No. I’ll be fine. It’s just across the street, right? Next to the bridge?”

“That’s it. So around nine-thirty? Does that work?”

Beth’s muscles were tightening up as her heart began to pound, as if flirting with this man was sending her into fight-or-flight mode. “Sure. Nine-thirty. That sounds great.”

The elevator dinged and a crowd of voices suddenly filled the hallway.

Crap. What if someone saw her here, cozied up in this small space with Jamie Donovan and chocolate? It would look just as sinful as it was. Beth’s heart beat so hard, she wondered if he could hear it. Certainly his smile was slipping. Probably because she was just standing there, staring wide-eyed at him.

“I’ve got to go,” she finally stammered. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Of course—” he started, but she cut him off.

“Thank you for the torte. It was so good.” She thrust the box into his hands, mourning the last few bites she hadn’t eaten.

“So—”

“I’ll see you in a little while,” she interrupted then whispered, “Nine-thirty,” as she backed away from him.

He looked more than a little confused as she turned and rushed for the corridor. She wanted to reassure him, but she was panicking. Just a little. She told herself there was no reason. They’d arranged to have a glass of wine, not a make-out session. But she was shaking as she rushed past the crowd at the elevators.

She’d done it. Maybe. Certainly, there now existed the possibility of sex with Jamie Donovan.

Wow.

The tax seminar was in the same room her earlier session had been in, so Beth had no trouble finding it, even in her ridiculous state. She burst in, startling the four people who’d already taken their seats.

And when Beth found a seat for herself, she clenched her hands in her lap and looked down to see that she was still holding the fork in one white-knuckled fist. There was no pretending to be the smooth, cool sex-store manager now. He’d gotten a glimpse of the real Beth. He might not even show up for that glass of wine.

Right, she told herself. No need to get too excited. He might not show. And if he did, that didn’t mean they were going to have sex. And even if they did have sex, there was no guarantee it would be great. Probably it would be just like the other disastrous times she’d tried to expand her sexual horizons.

Beth took a deep breath, filling every single cell of her lungs. Then she let it slowly out, willing all the anxiety from her muscles. Annabelle always said that a woman determined the course of her life with her expectations. If Beth expected disastrous sex, she’d get it in spades. So tonight, she’d expect good things. Great things. Lovely, sexy-bartender things.

She raised the fork to her mouth and licked the last of the sticky caramel from the tines. And Beth thought she just might be tasting heaven.

Chapter three

THE LINE OF FERMENTATION tanks gleamed behind the glass wall like works of art. Despite his nervousness, Eric spared the vats an affectionate glance as he walked through the utilitarian kitchen. Given a choice, he’d rather be the brewmaster than the business manager, but somebody had to take care of the business.

His sister, Tessa, was great at the accounting side of things and the paperwork involved with human resources. Jamie took care of the front room and most of the duties that called for time with the public. That left Eric with supervising…everything else.

At least he’d resisted the countless suggestions that they turn the brewery into a restaurant and take on all the extra work that would entail. He wanted nothing to do with that side of the business. Donovan Brothers was a true artisan brewery, focused solely on their product. They brewed in small batches and then bottled and kegged for distribution to restaurants, grocery stores, bars and liquor stores. The front was a tasting room, and the only food they served was pretzels and peanuts. Still, they needed a kitchen to prep for catered parties.

Eric dropped off a box of glasses next to the dishwashing station and headed for the front. He didn’t bother pausing to take a deep breath before he pushed open the swinging door. He’d learned from long experience that it would do nothing to temper his irritation with Jamie.

Unsurprisingly, Jamie was delivering a round of beers to a table of attractive women. Also unsurprisingly, the women were laughing and chatting him up while they checked out his legs. Jamie usually wore a kilt while working, claiming that it honored their Scots-Irish heritage. But more likely than not, it was solely about the attention it drew.

Eric shook his head and checked the sales on the register. They were good even for a Friday night. It was spring break at the university, but the exodus had little effect on sales at the brewery. They’d designed the tasting room as an alternative to the other bars in town. It was quiet and comfortable. Celtic rock played over the speakers, and they hosted the occasional band. But the tasting room closed at eight, nine on the weekends, so they didn’t draw much of a party crowd. Their customers were grown-ups who just wanted to grab a beer with friends or play a round of pool before heading home.

And strangely enough, more than half their customers were women, not quite the norm for a brewery. Strange, yes, but no mystery.

The women at the table all burst into laughter at something Jamie said, and they made friendly protests when he started back toward the bar with a wave.

Jamie might be irresponsible and laissez-faire, but he was damn good at making the tasting room a place people wanted to be. That was a skill Eric would never acquire.

“Hey,” Jamie said as he came around the bar. “How’d it go today?”

He didn’t hesitate over the lie. “Nothing unusual. But that bastard Kendall is still leading me on. Maybe dinner tomorrow. Maybe not.”

Jamie grunted in answer and began washing pint glasses.

“And you?” Eric asked. “Any luck getting in touch with your friend?”

Jamie didn’t look at him. “No. But I talked to his roommate. Apparently Anthony was invited along on a spring-break trip to Cancun and decided he couldn’t resist.”

“Shit,” Eric snapped, grabbing a towel off Jamie’s shoulder to wipe down the bar. Not that it needed wiping down. Jamie was meticulous about that, at least.

“Unfortunately, my backup bartender is out of town, too. But Tessa is going to try to help tomorrow, so I can—”

“No. She’s been busy enough with tax season. Let her do her job.”

Jamie grabbed the towel back and dried his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Shit happens, man.”

Eric met his brother’s eyes. Jamie’s green eyes looked nothing like Eric’s. That reminder was enough to make Eric look away, out over the tables of happy customers. It also threw cold water on his anger. “Yeah. It’s all right. We’ll deal with it.”

“I’d still like to come to the dinner. Maybe I can get away.”

Eric shook his head. “I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea. He’s not going to like you.”

“Everyone likes me,” Jamie said with a smile.

“God, you’re obnoxious. Which is exactly why this guy won’t like you. He wants to be the center of attention. He won’t appreciate it when the waitress flirts with you and not him.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. You hold down the fort. I’ll take care of the distribution.”

For a moment, Jamie looked as if he might protest. His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed. Eric was curious what he was about to say, but then Jamie just ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Did Henry work out?”

“Yeah, he was great.”

“I’ll take over the dishwashing while he’s working with you then.”

“Thank you. That’d be great.” A customer raised a hand at the far end of the bar, so Eric slapped Jamie on the back. “I’ll be in my office for a few minutes before I head out again. Are you okay here? You need a break?”

“I’m good.”

Eric was relieved he wouldn’t have to stand in at the tap. He’d had his share of socializing for the day, aside from one very specific person he wanted to see. He told himself he’d chosen the wine bar because it was quiet and they wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds at the hotel. The real reason was that it was quiet and they wouldn’t be seen by the crowds at the hotel.

And if he was really going to use Jamie’s name to pursue an unwise affair, the fewer people around, the better.

But was he truly going to do it? At this point, it would be more than awkward to correct her. But it would be irresponsible not to, and Eric was always responsible.

He was also always boring, serious and stressed out. Jamie, on the other hand, seemed to have found the secret to eternal satisfaction: do what feels good.

Eric had no doubt in the world that Beth Cantrell would feel good.

He glanced at his watch. Just past eight-thirty. He had time to get a little work done before he headed out. He also had time to change his mind and tell her the truth.

For the next five minutes, Eric stared at the computer and brooded. Not quite the same as working.

He’d meant to tell her his real name. He really had. He was Eric, after all. The brother who always did the right thing. The brother who would never use falsehood as a seduction. Then again, Eric didn’t really engage in seduction at all. He dated. Sometimes. But with Beth it wasn’t about a date. He wasn’t hoping for the beginning of a relationship. There was something hotter than that between them. Something urgent. Wasn’t there?

Maybe if he hadn’t watched her eat that torte, he could’ve just let it go. But he had watched her eat it. She’d savored it. Moaned over it. Her eyelashes had fluttered and closed. Her lips had parted on a pleased sigh. Her tongue had darted out to moisten her mouth and capture his attention.

There’d been nothing good or clean about her then. Not one single thing. And she made Eric want to be dirty, too.

Maybe it was the wrongness of what he was doing that caused vivid excitement to awaken every nerve in his body. He felt…alive. Intrigued. Guilty and righteous all at once.

He rubbed both hands over his face and forced himself to open his email window. He deleted some messages and scrolled through a few more. He reviewed a few invoices and signed off on the larger checks that needed two signatures.

By the time he finished up, it was nine. As he stood and grabbed a jacket, Eric knew he wasn’t going to tell Beth his real name. What the hell did it matter? Jamie was just a name to her, a reputation. Eric was real flesh and blood, and he wasn’t going to lie to her about that. No, that he could offer her with complete and utter honesty.

BETH HADN’T BEEN IN DANGER of falling asleep during the seminar, at least. She’d been wide awake and anticipating this walk across the street.

As usual, a few steps down the path toward living out a fantasy and Beth was a nervous wreck. She paused on the sidewalk to close her eyes and visualize sexual success.

She believed with every fiber of her being that women needed physical fulfillment as much as men did. That women should feel free to seek out their pleasure as earnestly as men did, whatever that pleasure might entail. But she couldn’t seem to discover what hers was. She had trouble relaxing enough during sex to get off. She had no interest in group sex or spanking or other women. She wasn’t turned on by whips or latex or leather. Her only kink was preppy boys, for God’s sake, a desire so vanilla it couldn’t even be called a kink. There had to be something else that would get her engine running, something more interesting, something hot enough to distract her from her own thoughts.

But maybe it wasn’t something, but someone. Because Jamie Donovan made her warm in very special places. And when she walked into the bar and saw him, those special places ratcheted from warm to hot.

Hands in his pockets, he leaned against a red-velvet banquette toward the back of the bar. She couldn’t see his expression in the dim lighting, but somehow she already knew the shape of his wide shoulders and the line of his bent head as he stared at the floor. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it more than once.

She was only five feet away when he looked up. His blue-gray eyes sent sparks down her spine. When the sparks reached low enough, lust exploded like fireworks inside her. The man looked for all the world like a furious, determined, sexy stockbroker forced to work overtime to address a financial crisis.

He looked like a preppy god.

And Beth was the troublesome financial crisis. Oh, wow.

A waitress brushed past her, but Beth was stuck, held to the ground as his frown edged up into a smile.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

“I got a booth…” He stepped back and gestured toward the deep circular booth. The only light provided was a flickering candle in a beaded lamp. As if he were reading her mind.

She slid into one side, and he slid in opposite, and they were cocooned in dark red velvet. Beth could just see the edge of the bar and a dark hallway beyond it.

“I forgot to get your number,” he said, flipping open his phone.

“Oh, right.” She scrambled to get her own phone out of her purse. Was this the point at which she told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship? Should she type BOOTY CALL next to his name so he’d get the idea? She typed in a simple “Jamie Donovan” and tried to think of a diplomatic way to say “please don’t use my number after tonight.”

Her mind worked frantically as they exchanged numbers. Her hand trembled as he handed her the wine list. She had to say something, right? Or should she just let things take their natural course? “Jamie…” she finally blurted out—and a waitress appeared as if by magic.

“What would you like this evening?” the girl asked.

Good question.

He smiled. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Yes, Beth thought. How about the hottest sex I’ve ever had and not a peep out of you afterward?

The server rattled on, but Beth couldn’t concentrate. He had spread his hand out on the table, and she could only stare at it. That hand might be touching her later.

“Beth?” he prompted.

“Oh! What are you going to have?”

“The Shiraz, but I’m no wine expert. You might want to—”

“I’ll have that, too.”

He gave her a helpless smile and shrugged. “Okay, two glasses of the Shiraz.” When the waitress disappeared, he leaned closer. “We should’ve gone somewhere with beer. I’d feel much more confident and manly while ordering.”

Beth couldn’t keep up her worried monologue when he was smiling so close to her. And she’d been right about him. He did smell good. Like starched cotton and soap. As though he should be on the cover of a Polo catalog. Beth’s heart shook with nervous joy. “You seem manly enough.”

“Oh, manly enough?”

“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Notice I qualified it with ‘seem.’”

“Ouch. I didn’t know you were into sadism.”

She laughed, but his smile slipped a little. “Um, you’re not into sadism, are you?”

“Oh, God,” she laughed, tears springing to her eyes in amused relief. He looked so worried. Did he only want her to be a normal girl? What a nice change. “No,” she finally said. “I am not a sadist. Or a masochist, if that’s your next question.”

“Good. I didn’t think you looked—I mean, not that people look a certain way. Or that I thought this was leading to a… That we would… Ah, shit.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion as Beth laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I’m sorry.”

The waitress delivered their wine and he snatched his up with a muttered, “Thank God.”

If he was nervous, then maybe this was okay. Maybe she wasn’t a failure. Maybe this kind of sexual tension was supposed to make you nervous.

She suddenly felt so much better that she scooted a little closer while he wasn’t looking and clicked her glass against his. “Cheers.”

He opened his eyes and his gaze dipped to her mouth as she put the glass to her lips. “Cheers,” he murmured back.

“Mmm. It’s good. Your manhood is safe with me.”

He tasted the wine and his eyebrows rose. “That is good. How could you ever have doubted me?”

“I didn’t really. In fact, I’ve heard amazing things about you.”

“Oh.” A pink flush rose up his face.

“I’m sorry. Was that rude? It’s just that…”

“Beth—”

“Listen,” she interrupted. “I just…” She leaned even closer. Her arm brushed his, and the crisp hair on his forearm sent pleasure sizzling through her. “Jamie,” she whispered, “can I be completely honest with you?”

Chapter four

ERIC WAS FILLED WITH a strange and arousing mixture of lust and guilt. Her arm slid along his, and a very interesting amount of cleavage was exposed when she leaned so close to him. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and every time she said “Jamie” it was rubbing his conscience raw. Now she was offering complete honesty?

He would have stopped her if he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her thoughts.

“You know where I work.”

He nodded and watched her pink lips touch the edge of her glass. She drank, and when she lowered the wine, her lips were even pinker. Ruby-red and touched with dampness. Eric’s mouth went dry.

He felt hypnotized, and when her knee brushed his, he reached automatically to touch it. Beth inhaled sharply, and those ruby lips parted just the tiniest bit.

“Because of my job,” she continued, the words slightly breathless. “You might think…”

Fascinated by her response and drawn in by her soft skin, Eric rubbed his little finger along the inside of her knee. She edged her leg closer to his, parting her knees, giving him space. His mind tumbled over in a primal surge of victory.

“What I’m trying to say,” she whispered, “is that I don’t usually do this.”

“This?” he repeated. Her skin was so hot. He spread his fingers wider, edging them past her knee to her thigh.

“Yes,” she breathed. “This.” And her hand pressed atop his.

This was wrong. Because she didn’t know who he was. Because they were virtually strangers. Because they were in public. But wrong felt better than he’d imagined it could.

Wrong felt like the silky heat of her thigh as she dragged his hand higher. It felt like her skirt easing up as he slid beneath it. And it felt like her muscles trembling as she edged her legs farther apart.

Eric suddenly regretted that he’d spent his life doing the right thing. Instead, he wanted to do…this.

His fingers brushed the satiny fabric between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat, and Eric ceased breathing altogether. Her muscles tightened as she tried to spread her knees farther, but the material of the skirt was too narrow around her thighs.

Eric didn’t mind. He didn’t plan to go further than this. This place, where he could slip his fingers between her thighs and rub just there.

Beth bit back a little whimper, cutting it off before it became a moan. She let go of his wrist and put her hand on his thigh instead. He held still, settling in to the idea that he was really doing this, giving himself just a few seconds to decide that he was.

He pressed circles against her clit, feeling the satin grow wet under his touch, feeling her thighs tremble. He didn’t pause even when a group of people passed by, their voices filling the booth for a moment.

She choked on a gasp, but no one could see past the front of the table. Eric had made sure of that, in the interest of privacy, but he hadn’t anticipated they’d need it quite this much.

As her breathing grew more ragged, her fingers dug into his thigh. She stared straight ahead, her expression caught somewhere between pleasure and worry.

Was she an exhibitionist? Was that her thing? Eric didn’t give a damn as long as she kept making those soft, whimpering sounds. As long as she clutched his thigh as if he was anchoring her to the earth.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

He didn’t move in to kiss her. He didn’t dare get any closer. As it was, if the waitress reappeared, she would see nothing more than a man turned slightly toward a woman as they talked. So instead of kissing her, Eric watched her face closely. Redness touched her cheeks like rouge. Her pulse beat hard in her throat. He increased the pressure against her clit, and the skin around her eyes tightened as her pupils went wider.

Someone spoke loudly in the booth next to theirs. Laughter echoed through the booth.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I…”

Her hips twitched, pushing up against his hand. Her thighs shook around him as her muscles spasmed. She was coming. Right here. Right now. His other hand tightened into a fist that he pressed mercilessly against the table. His cock grew so hard that it hurt.

She bowed her head and he could barely hear her strangled cry as she jerked against him.

Eric stared at the fall of her hair, utterly shocked at what he’d just done. He’d made this woman come. He’d stroked her to climax in a public place and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He was going to have to be bad more often.

THIS WAS SEXUAL LIBERATION. This was embracing a fantasy. This was also a little bit awkward as he eased his hand out from between her thighs.

Beth raised her head. She didn’t look at him, but she could see that his wineglass wasn’t quite steady as he raised it for a drink. She pressed her thighs together and savored the last little spasms of pleasure that took her.

Were they supposed to talk now? Discuss the latest movies? Beth couldn’t begin to think at this point.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she whispered before smoothing down her skirt and sliding out of the booth.

“Of course,” he said, his words following her toward the dark hallway.

She found the women’s room and pushed through the door, immediately meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She looked dazed. And flushed. She looked like a woman who’d just done something wicked.

Covering her mouth, she whispered, “Wow.” She pressed her hand harder, trying to stop the grin that was starting. But she couldn’t stop it. She’d just done something totally insane. In public. “Oh, wow,” she said again, the words dissolving into laughter.

Her panties were soaking wet. Her thighs weak and shaky. And he was still at the table, waiting for her.

The door whooshed open behind her, and Beth pressed her lips together to stifle her grin as she reached for the faucet so she’d look less conspicuous. She couldn’t just stand there grinning at herself, even if she was the most awesome woman in the building.

As soon as she heard the stall door close behind her, Beth smiled at herself again. She dried her hands and smoothed her hair. She didn’t need to touch up her makeup. Her lips were flushed deep red and her eyes sparkled. Hell, yeah.

Beth undid one more button on her shirt and opened the door. She was going to take this man home tonight. Preferably within the next quarter hour.

Three steps outside of the bathroom she ran straight into disaster.

“Beth!” Cairo squealed as she reached out to grab Beth’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Beth yelped. “Cairo! I…” She looked past Cairo’s head and saw Jamie watching their little reunion. Crap. “I’m meeting with a, um, an accountant. From the accounting seminar. About tax…strategy.”

“Well, come here. I want you to meet Harrison.”

“Who?” Beth asked, dumbfounded by shock.

“Harrison, my boyfriend. He’s a bartender here.”

Oh, Jesus. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to Cairo’s stories? Harrison was the newer of her two boyfriends, and Beth belatedly remembered that he worked nearby. Unfortunately, she hadn’t registered the useful details. “I can’t, I need to finish this meeting.”

Cairo tugged on her arm. “Come on. It’ll only take a second.”

Beth had to follow her, but she threw a wide-eyed look at Jamie over her shoulder. She held up one finger in the hopes he’d take the message and stay put. Though he frowned, he leaned back in his seat. Thank God.

“That’s him,” Cairo whispered, waving toward a young man at the other side of the room. He was slim and of average height, but that was the only average thing about him. His hair was a close buzz cut, bleached so blond it was nearly white. It offered a stark contrast against his bronze skin and black tattoos. He was pierced and studded in multiple places on his face, and Beth knew for a fact that the ornamentation continued down his body.

He stopped before them with a wide, welcoming smile.

“This is Beth,” Cairo said. “My boss.”

“I’m Harrison. Nice to meet you.” He reached across the bar to shake her hand and slid a wine list toward her with the other. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh. I’d better…” She darted a look toward the booth.

“No, stay!” Cairo said. “It’ll be fun. You said you were almost done with the meeting, right? We never hang out anymore.”

Beth couldn’t believe this was happening. She thought of Jamie waiting in the booth like some clean-cut sex god. She looked at Cairo’s bleach-blond alternative toy with a sense of hopelessness.

“Wait a minute,” Cairo said. “Are you sure you’re only here for a business meeting?”

“What? Of course, it’s just a meeting. Ha! I’ll go finish up and I’ll be right back. You order for me, Harrison.”

She was being ridiculous. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, Jamie looked a lot like an off-duty stockbroker, but Beth didn’t have anything to prove. She should just stand up and take it like a woman.

Still, she’d taken a big step today. Best to put off any more growth until tomorrow. Anything more might break her.

She slid into the booth next to Jamie and grabbed her purse. “I’m really, really sorry, but you have to go,” she said in rush.

“Excuse me?” Jamie asked, still relaxed against the seat back.

“I know it’s awful. Unforgivable really, leaving you like this. After you… But there’s somebody here, and—”

He sat straight up. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No! It’s not that, it’s just…”

His confused frown darkened to suspicion. “What?”

“This is hard to explain. And after what we…um… There’s someone here from my shop. One of my employees, and…”

“And?”

“And I have an image to maintain.”

“I’ll sit on the other side of the table. We’ll be perfectly respectable.”

Heat burned in her face. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Beth.” He raised his hands in helpless question. “I’m trying hard to understand, but I’m missing something here.”

She snuck a look around the banquette to be sure Cairo was still at the bar before offering a longer explanation. “Okay, listen. The White Orchid is Annabelle Mendez’s dream. It’s an extension of her. Sophisticated, edgy, daring. Cool and hip and modern. The shop is Annabelle, and I’m committed to maintaining everything she is. Every single person I hire is open-minded and forward-thinking. Invested in women’s sexual freedom. And I am too. It’s just that…”

He leaned forward.

“On occasion, I find myself attracted to a man like you.”

“Like me?” He sounded caught halfway between insult and pride.

“Traditional. Sort of…old-fashioned.”

“Old-fashioned?”

She waved a hand, her mind searching desperately for a better descriptor. “You’ve got a country-club vibe, you know?”

His mouth opened as if he meant to repeat her words again, but then he only shook his head. He looked…traumatized? “I run a brewery,” he rasped.

Beth pressed her hands to her eyes to give herself a chance to gather up the courage she’d sat down with. “I’m sorry.” When she opened her eyes, he looked a little less confused, but maybe she’d only pressed her eyeballs too hard. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’d heard of you and I kind of thought… Well, considering your reputation, I thought maybe you were a no-strings-attached kind of guy. And, obviously, I’d want a no-strings-attached kind of, um, encounter. Not a date. Not in public.”

“You mean you…? You’d want to…”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry. This is so wrong, especially after what just happened. Jamie, I really like you, but I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t get involved with a guy like you.”

He took a deep breath. “You… Jesus. ‘A guy like me?’ All this talk about being open-minded, but you seem pretty damn narrow-minded about me.”

“Oh, there you go,” she said, relieved that her ridiculousness had removed any chance he’d like her. “Yet another problem! I’ve exposed myself as a hypocrite, another good reason not to get involved.” She was nodding, but Jamie was shaking his head in what appeared to be utter shock.

Beth’s courage was gone. She’d taken control and been honest. She’d embraced her sexual desires. But now that she’d managed that big step, it was time to run away and regroup.

“Okay!” she said brightly. He jumped as if he’d been lost in thought. “I’m sorry about…” She gestured toward his lap. “And thank you. Just… I’m sorry.”

She started to slide out of the booth, but he put a hand on her wrist to stop her. “Wait.”

She froze.

“You’re not exactly the kind of woman I usually date, either.”

Beth stiffened. “From what I’ve heard, you date all kinds of women.”

He blinked as if she’d surprised him, then he shook his head. “Regardless, I meant to say that I’ll leave, and we can still see each other. Later. Tomorrow. No one needs to know.”

Her heart stopped beating for a painful moment. She thought of his hands, his scent, the gorgeous mouth she wanted so badly to taste. And then she thought of the childish panic she’d felt at the sight of Cairo. She clearly wasn’t ready for this.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she sighed.

“Think about it.”

She shouldn’t. But she knew she’d spend all night thinking about it regardless, so Beth nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But no promises.”

This time when she slid away, he let her go.

Beth walked away from him as if it were easy. As if everything was back to normal. But inside, she was changed. She could feel it.

Chapter five

TWELVE HOURS LATER, Eric’s brain hadn’t stopped spinning. He kept staring at the horizon, trying to steady himself, but the horizon was a convention hall filled with milling people, so that didn’t help. Still, it kept him from gawking at The White Orchid’s booth. Mostly.

Today she wore a black skirt. Just as conservative and businesslike. Just as fantastically cupped over her ass as the brown skirt had been. But this one had a little pleat at the back of her knees that flipped out when she walked.

And the heels. The heels were deep red. How was he supposed to keep his eyes off her for more than a minute?

He let his gaze slip up from her shoes to her calves then over that magnificent ass. The rest of the way up her body, he was telling himself to look away, look away… He should’ve taken his own advice, because when he reached her face, he realized she was staring back. He held her gaze until she closed her eyes, then he cursed as he turned back to the stacks of promo coasters he was unpacking.

How the hell did she consider Eric the inappropriate half of this puzzle? As if he could be seen with Beth Cantrell, for God’s sake. He was a business owner trying to promote his place as a respectable brewery, not a party bar. And he was, for all intents and purposes, the head of his family. He had an innocent little sister to think of. My God, what would Tessa think if she found out Eric had dated a woman like Beth? What would she imagine?

Not that Beth could know any of that. She thought he was a man primed for meaningless sex.

Christ, he’d been crazy even to flirt with her.

But when he turned around to grab another box, his peripheral vision hinted that Beth was looking again. Tension swept through his body, painful at first, but as the tension faded, it left behind a warmth that haunted him like a ghost.

When was the last time he’d felt true physical anticipation? The kind of suspense inspired by the mystery of a stranger’s body? But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t a detective. He wasn’t an adventurer. The mystery of Beth Cantrell had nothing to do with him.

But the ghostly warmth stayed with him. He couldn’t shake it.

And how was he supposed to when he’d touched her that way? When he’d watched her face as she came apart in his hands?

“Henry,” he barked. “I’m going to make the rounds. Hold down the fort.”

They wouldn’t start serving samples until eleven, so he didn’t anticipate that Henry would have any trouble handing out coasters and hats and brochures. But Eric didn’t use the chance to pass Beth’s booth again. He headed resolutely in the other direction.

The booth he wanted was about halfway across the room. A local roasting company had offered to make a bid on supplying him with barroom snacks like cashews and peanuts. Eric had promised to hear the owner out. He liked the idea of organic ingredients and imported salt, but it would likely prove too pricey.

He was only a few booths from his target when he spotted Kendall and veered toward the right so he’d be sure to intersect the man’s path.

“Mr. Kendall,” he said simply, holding out his hand as a trap.

“Donovan.” The man’s hand was just like his face, big, meaty and unhappy, if the overly strong grip was any indication.

“It’s great to see you again. I was hoping I’d find you today. You enjoying the expo?”

“A lot of new faces,” Kendall muttered with an arrogant look around.

Yes, Eric wanted to say, that’s the point. But Kendall probably wouldn’t appreciate that. “About lunch today. I hoped we could—”

“Can’t do it, Donovan.”

Eric felt a surge of anger, but he forced a smile. “All right. But I hope you’ve set aside time this evening.”

Kendall sighed, his eyes shifting past Eric as if he couldn’t wait to get away. His attitude made Eric want to growl. He could make this guy a decent amount of money given a chance.

Eric held his tongue and waited patiently. Finally, Kendall cleared his throat. “The chamber of commerce is holding a reception tonight. Are you going to be there?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine. We can talk then.”

Okay. This was good. It had taken Eric nearly a year of wrangling to get Kendall to meet him the first time. This second meeting had taken only a few weeks. Though maybe “meeting” was a bit of an exaggeration. “I’ll see you there,” he called as Kendall walked off with an impatient wave.

Eric allowed himself one small smile before he headed toward his original destination. This was what he’d come to the expo for, not a secret encounter with a fantasy woman.

Maybe if he told himself that a few dozen more times, he’d stop thinking about Beth Cantrell. But he didn’t hold out much hope.

LEATHER, FEATHERS, METAL and lace. Beth scowled at the display that had popped up next to the register at The White Orchid. She had five minutes to fix this before she had to run back to the conference hall for the reception.

“Well,” she said carefully to her newest employee. “You’ve got a really good idea here, Penelope.”

“Thanks!”

“But I think it might be a bit too…crowded.” More like tacky as all hell and likely to scare off any new customers who might come in. “The handcuffs are good. They’re playful. But when you pair them with the flogger and the, um, oversized toy, it startles people. That’s why we keep the toys behind the curtain.”

“Oh, okay!” Penelope said brightly.

“And I like the way you’ve paired the lace and the leather. That’s classic, right? But maybe we should take the feathered-crotch panties out of the mix.”

“Sure. That makes sense.”

“Great. I’m really happy with your taking the initiative. Why don’t you try one more shot at this, and I’ll have Cairo check it out in the morning. Is there anything else going on?”

“Nah, it’s slow today. Though we did have a bachelorette group in this afternoon. Guess what their total was?”

“How many women were there?”

“Seven.”

Beth tapped her chin, thinking. “How old was the bride?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Oh, that’s a young group. They’re not serious about their vibrators yet. I’ll guess $250.”

“$525!” Penelope squealed.

“Wow. Early learners.”

“I know!”

Beth was laughing as she hurried to her office to fix her makeup and hair. She slipped off her heels and stretched her toes in relief. Heels were standard wear for her, but these expo days were a little long, and there was never any chance to sit down.

But she hadn’t noticed the ache in her feet during the day. She’d been consumed with alternating between staring at Jamie Donovan and trying not to stare at him. He had the most gorgeous ass. And then there were those magic fingers. And she had promised to think about it.

Sighing, Beth let her eyes wander to the box of samples that had arrived that morning. She usually set out the box in the supply room for any employees who wanted to try them out, but this week maybe she’d take them all home herself. She needed them more than the other girls anyway. She put the top back on the box and slipped it under her desk just in case.

When her cell phone rang, she jumped in guilty shock, knocking a knee into her desk. “Oh!”

The line screamed static as soon as she answered it. “Hello?”

The static roughened before breaking apart for a moment. “Beth! It’s…”

It was Annabelle. Somewhere in Asia, if Beth recalled correctly. Thailand, maybe? “I’m here!” she yelled.

The static swelled again. “I’ve got…can’t wait…”

“What?”

“So thrilled! …soon…be a big…” Her voice edged up at the end of every word.

“Annabelle. I can’t hear anything you’re saying! What are you so excited about?”

“…idea to…” The static finally went quiet. The line dropped dead.

“Well, crap,” Beth said, collapsing into her chair. Annabelle called only once a month, and she’d never sounded quite so excited. Beth tried to call her back, but the phone just beeped unhelpfully in her ear. There was nothing she could do except get ready for the reception.

After touching up her makeup, Beth took down her conservative updo and brushed out her hair. She stared wearily at the heels for a long time, wondering if she should put on some flats instead. But she slipped the heels back on, knowing exactly why she did it. There was an excellent chance that Jamie Donovan would be at the reception tonight, and she wanted him to notice her.

Stupid. She told herself she wasn’t going to sleep with him, but damn it, she wanted him to think she was sexy anyway.

Actually… Beth touched the red beaded necklace at her throat and looked down at her shiny red heels. Then she looked at the little closet in the corner of her office, considering the outfits she’d hung there after various store events. Perhaps a little black dress would be better suited for an evening affair.

Or maybe that would just be asking for trouble. Trouble she so desperately needed a taste of in her life.

Oh, what the heck. Maybe she could superimpose a new image over the crazy-eyed Beth she’d left him with yesterday. But the tense arousal that tightened her belly had nothing to do with repairing her image and everything to do with wanting him.

She’d made an awful mistake last night, giving in to her familiar fears. A stupid mistake that she’d spent the past hours regretting. But maybe the perfect opportunity to rectify that mistake would arise. Or maybe the perfect opportunity could be conjured with the right dress.

Chapter six

ERIC COULDN’T QUITE believe his eyes when he turned to see the woman walking straight toward him across the crowded reception. “Tessa?” Confusion made him dizzy as his sister rushed in for a hug.

“Hey, big brother. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. You work too hard.”

He kissed her cheek automatically. “What are you doing here?”

“Jamie and I talked. He needs to cover the bar tonight, but we both agreed I should come help you out.”

“It’s just a reception.”

“But all of this…” she said with a vague gesture. “You shouldn’t be the only one working on it. We’re all part of Donovan Brothers. We’ve got to share the burden.”

“Of course,” Eric said. “But tonight’s no big deal. You don’t need to hang around here. I’m just going to stalk Kendall for an hour or two. You worked too much last month.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed her dark blond hair back. “We’re all working overtime. That’s the price we pay as business owners, right?”

Eric considered for a moment then shrugged. “You’re right. And Kendall is going to love you.”

“Why? Does he have a thing for blondes?”

Eric felt his face twist in horror. “Jesus, Tessa. As if I’d let you around him if he did. No, I meant you’re the perfect all-American little sister. We’ll present a great image.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

“Just, uh…button up your shirt a little more.”

She glanced down to her silky gray shirt. “Eric, it’s already buttoned to my collarbone.”

He narrowed his eyes in doubt but decided to let it go. Tessa was twenty-eight now. He had to stop playing the role of overprotective big brother, but it was tough to let it go. After all, he’d also been a parent to her for nearly fifteen years.

“So give me the lowdown,” she murmured as she looked over the crowd. “What’s up with this guy?”

“He’s arrogant and rich. He’s not young and hip like the image they’ve developed for High West Air. The airline is just one of many high-capital ventures he owns. But he’s not a typical high roller. He’s been married to the same woman his whole life. They have six grown children and every one of them works for him. He’s not a big believer in women’s lib, but he finally let his daughter have a chance at moving up. She’s the VP of High West Air. His five sons have been executives at his companies for years now.”

“Oh? Are any of them single?”

Eric ignored her. “He likes people scraping and bowing, so you’d better limber up.”

“Got it,” she said with a wink. “Anything else interesting going on?”

“Uh, no.” He thought his voice sounded odd instead of casual, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Nothing. No.”

“Any new contacts?”

He glanced around as if Beth Cantrell might be making her way toward him, but he hadn’t spotted her at this reception. Thank God. Probably she was at the web-design seminar. If she showed up and heard Tessa call him by his real name… “Nothing too promising this year. And there he is.”

Eric inclined his head toward the doorway where Kendall was comfortably ensconced within a herd of four gentlemen in suits.

“Great! Let’s go talk to him.”

“Wait,” he started, but Tessa was already striding across the room on her spike-heeled sandals. Spike-heeled sandals? What the hell?

Scowling, Eric followed behind his sister, catching up just as she infiltrated the group of men. “Mr. Kendall,” she said, “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Kendall narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze dipping down her body with a hint of scorn, as if Tessa was too young and too female to merit his respect. “Who are you?”

“She’s my sister,” Eric snapped. In that moment, he didn’t give a shit who Kendall was or what he could do for the brewery. In that moment, the bastard was just a sexist ass.

Every eye in their group was on Eric, but Tessa just smiled and cleared her throat. “I’m Tessa Donovan. I’m afraid we haven’t had the chance to meet before.”

Kendall took the hand she offered and gave it a limp shake. She beamed up at him, and he finally deigned to crack a smile. “You have a lovely sister, Donovan.”

“I agree. My sister is a priceless asset to the company. She handles finance and accounting, so you’ll be dealing with her when we finally reach an agreement.”

“And she’s cute as a button,” Kendall added.

Eric scowled, but Tessa just gave a little giggle. What a faker. But Eric may as well follow her lead and take advantage of it.

“I was just about to get a drink for Tessa. Would you like to join us? Whiskey, right?” Before Kendall could decline, Eric headed for the bar. He was almost there when he spotted her. Her. Beth. She turned away from the bar to look over the room.

Her hair was down again, and she wore those fantastic red heels, but she’d changed into a hip-hugging dress that nearly made him swallow his own tongue. Like everything else he’d seen her in, it was modest, showing only a hint of cleavage and a respectable amount of leg. But the way it wrapped around her hips rocked his world.

It made him want to rock her in return.

“Hello, Jamie,” she said in that incredible voice.

He glanced over his shoulder, sure that everyone in the room, including his sister and Kendall, must be watching. Shouldn’t everyone’s eyes be on Beth? But his sister was occupied with laughing too hard at some joke Kendall had made, and the rest of the room seemed oblivious.

“Beth,” he finally said, his eyes sweeping down her body even though he tried hard not to look again. “Are you having a good evening?”

“I am, thank you. Don’t let me interrupt your path to the bar, though. You’ll never survive this kind of gathering without a drink.”

“Oh, I… Yeah, I’m getting a drink for my sister. Can I get you anything?” His mind was racing. What if she said yes? What if Tessa saw him handing this woman a drink and wanted to know who she was? What if she came over to talk?

But Beth cut off his worries by picking up a glass of wine. “I’m good, thanks,” she said. “So how do you know Roland Kendall?”

Eric was damn glad he didn’t have a drink in his hand yet, because he would’ve dropped it without question. “I’m sorry?” He leaned an inch closer, hoping he’d misheard her the first time.

“Roland Kendall. He’s not getting into the beer business now, is he?”

“No, I… We’re trying to get our product onto High West Airlines. You know Kendall?”

She arched an amused eyebrow at his words. Even Eric could hear the incredulous worry in his voice. “He’s not a big customer at the shop, if that’s what you’re wondering. I went to school with his daughter.”

“Oh.” So Kendall knew exactly who Beth was. Shit. He didn’t look over his shoulder, worried he’d look guilty if he did.

“Mr. Kendall is a tough nut to crack,” Beth said.

“He is.”

“Well, good luck with that.” She was walking away before he could say another word. He felt a stark sense of relief that she was moving away from him, but that relief was sharply offset by the pleasure of watching her curves sway as she left.

His mouth watered at the sight, but he told himself it was a good thing she’d called off their flirtation. She’d been right. Their social circles weren’t as far apart as he’d thought they were.

This thing between them wasn’t meant to be. Still, Eric had given it a hell of a shot the night before. And his body seemed confident that it was the perfect candidate for the job. Too bad he wouldn’t get to finish it.

BETH WATCHED JAMIE DONOVAN chat up the group of businessmen who surrounded Roland Kendall. She still didn’t see anything of the kilt-wearing bartender in Jamie. Tonight he wore a dark business suit and a pale green tie. He looked every inch the sharp-eyed businessman. Good God, why did he have to be so serious and hot? Her fingers itched to grab that silk tie and pull him out of the room for a quick make-out session in the hallway.

Beth shivered. It was her own fault. She’d primed herself for this by slipping into something decadent and naughty. The fabric of the dress had felt so good under her hands that Beth had gone one step further. A new shipment of lingerie had come in the day before. Beth hadn’t put it out on the floor yet, but when she’d opened the box, she’d sighed in reverence.

The silk of the bra and panties was such a pale and delicate gold that it looked like aged ivory. The matching garter was made of soft braids of the same silk and paired perfectly with nude stockings. Beth had had to have the whole set. She’d dug through for her size and left a note to remind herself to pay for them in the morning before anyone else came in.

The lingerie had been well worth the exorbitant price tag. She could feel the expensive material against her skin as she moved. More than that, she could feel the wicked knowledge of what she wore as if it was tattooed onto her. No one else could see it, but she felt daring and sensual and ready.

And maybe he could feel it, too. Their eyes met as she raised her wineglass to her lips, and energy arced between them. This was chemistry like she’d never felt. If she passed it up, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. She knew she would, because she’d felt grief-stricken as soon as she’d opened her eyes this morning.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a man said from just over her shoulder.

Beth turned with a slight smile, thinking he must be someone she knew, but her smile dropped when she saw a stranger. “Pardon me?”

“I’m Will. Will Heston.”

She warily took the hand he offered. “Beth.”

He kept his fingers wrapped around hers and aimed a glaringly white grin at her. “I saw you at your booth earlier.”

Oh, great. One of those guys. Beth tugged on her hand until he let it go.

“You’re an incredibly sexy woman,” he said, clearly unable to read every “go away” signal she was blasting at him.

“Thank you,” she snapped, turning slightly away to look out over the crowd. He didn’t take that hint, either. Instead of excusing himself, he edged closer. His chest brushed her arm when he leaned toward her ear as if they were sharing an intimate conversation.

“I’d love to buy you a drink. Somewhere a little more lively, maybe? There’s a club over near the university that—”

She stepped a foot away. “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

He held out a business card, and Beth glared down at it. Without reaching for the card, she could see the title President and Owner, along with the logo of a local luxury car dealership.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she muttered just as her phone began to ring. “Pardon me.”

She heard his snort of disbelief as she walked off, but she was too busy juggling her wine and phone to bother to look in his direction. “Hello?”

“It’s Cairo!” a cheerful voice sang. “I finally got the boys over here so I could try that tea.”

“Oh? And?”

“Aaaand…” Cairo’s giggle made Beth grin in response.

“I take it the tea worked?”

“Well, I’m feeling darn good right now.” The sound of a loud smack echoed through the phone, followed by Cairo’s eardrum-piercing squeal. A male voice rumbled in the background.

“They’re still there?” Beth put a hand over her eyes in chagrin.

“Oh, I made sure they won’t be moving for a while. Seriously though, the tea had a subtle effect, but I do think it worked. I’m gonna try it again tomorrow when I’m by myself. I think if I don’t have so much visual stimulation it’ll be easier to gauge whether I really feel different.”

“Oh, right. Good idea. Thanks, Cairo.”

“Jeez, it was my pleasure. Hey, Harrison says hi.”

As Beth hung up the phone she spotted the tea shop owner, a plump older woman wearing Birkenstocks with her black knit dress. The woman probably didn’t carry samples with her, but Beth briefly considered asking, just in case.

Then again, she didn’t really need any help. She certainly hadn’t needed any last night. She’d come faster than she’d thought possible. Just the memory was enough to make her pulse quicken and her skin sparkle with sensitivity. That kind of chemistry shouldn’t be ignored, even if they weren’t right for each other in any other way. It was too rare a phenomenon, at least for Beth.

Screw it. She needed this whether she was ready or not.

But… She couldn’t approach him in front of his sister and Mr. Kendall, not if they wanted to keep this on the down-low. Beth slipped out the side door of the room and found herself in a dead-end hallway that led to two other banquet rooms. Excitement skittered through her body as she pulled up his number and called. This was who she’d always felt she should be. A sexy, daring woman.

“Hello?” he answered in a low voice.

“Hi. It’s Beth.”

There was a pause. She pictured him moving away from the group. “Are you still here?” he finally asked.

“I’m just outside the room, actually.” She drew a deep, quiet breath, and then she took the plunge. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation yesterday. Maybe we could…” While she tried to think of the exact right words, he stayed silent. She tried again. “I know you’re busy, but do you have a moment to talk?”

The line grew muffled for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Can you give me one minute? Maybe two?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you in the hallway next to the side door.”

Beth spotted a big mirror at the end of the corridor and walked over to check her makeup. The dress slid against her hips. The ties of the garter belt stretched across her thighs. Her nipples tightened beneath the warm silk of the bra. And when she met her own eyes in the mirror, she saw a sexual goddess on the prowl. Wow. Where had she come from?

Who the heck cared? She ran her hands through her hair and watched a slow smile stretch across her face. It didn’t matter where the sexual goddess had come from. It only mattered that she was finally here.

Thank God.

A door opened. The sound of the party swelled into the hall. Beth turned and walked toward him.

There was no missing the way his eyes devoured her body. He liked her hips. No question about it. She suppressed her grin in favor of a sexy smirk.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“Thanks for sneaking away.” She stopped too close to him then leaned her back casually against the wall, as if she hadn’t invaded his personal space.

“So, you changed your mind about being seen with a guy like me?”

She glanced around. “Obviously not. I’m still worried you’ll ruin my rep.” She tempered her joke with a smile.

“I probably will. And you’d return the favor if anyone saw us.”

“We’d better be careful. I don’t want to damage your wholesome-brewery image.”

His smile faded. His pale eyes narrowed with intensity as he shifted, putting his hand to the wall next to her shoulder. “So what are we doing here?”

She took a deep breath and tilted her face toward his ear. “No one needs to know,” she murmured.

His pupils dilated as she felt a flush rise up her cheeks. She’d used his own words to lay it out as simply as she could. Let’s have a secret affair. No one will ever know.

“I’m in the middle of an important negotiation,” he said, his voice taking on a husky edge. “And my sister is here.”

“I know.” She left it at that. She would’ve held her breath if she hadn’t been so eager to draw in his scent. Afraid that panting aloud would be less than sexy, she inhaled slowly.

“Yet here I am,” he murmured. “With you.”

He eased a tiny bit closer. If he lowered his head, they’d kiss. Her pulse beat so hard she could hear it in her ears.

“This is not a good idea,” he said softly. “You said it yourself. So why are you willing to do this?”

Honesty, she told herself. A woman’s desires were nothing to be ashamed of. She raised her gaze from his mouth to his eyes. “Because I want you,” she admitted. “A lot. It’s that simple.”

One side of his mouth curved slowly up in a wicked smile. “I get the feeling you’re not a fan of complication.”

A montage of encounters played through her brain, as if her life were flashing before her eyes. The uncomfortable blind dates. The brief, failed relationships. The men she’d tried to love, and the men she’d wanted. Her constant, simmering sexual anxiety. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I’m a simple girl.”

A door opened farther down the hall. He glanced up, a brief moment of worry chasing over his face before he looked back to her. “Simple? I don’t believe that for a second.” His eyes lowered to her mouth.

“And I owe you,” she whispered. “Don’t I?”

“You don’t owe me anything. It was my pleasure.”

She licked her lips and watched his pupils tighten as she lifted her chin. He leaned closer, closer…

When the door behind them clicked open, he stepped smoothly away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets. By the time they realized it was only a banquet server, the moment was lost. Or she thought it was.

His jaw had gone tense, after all, as if he were angry. But apparently the determination in his eyes had nothing to do with saying no and everything to do with pursuing this madness. “Can you meet me in half an hour?”

“Where?” she whispered.

He met her gaze, his eyes darkening with emotion. “I’ll get a room.”

Beth blinked once. Shock hit her in the chest, but she tried not to let it show. As far as Jamie Donovan knew, she was good at this. Experienced. After all, she’d encouraged him to feel her up in a bar.

She didn’t have to fake her arousal, at least. That was charging hard through her veins, heating her skin. “Call me,” she heard herself say. “I’ll meet you there.” And then she headed straight downstairs to get a drink.

Chapter seven

SHE WAS REALLY DOING this. Beth couldn’t believe it. She stared at the gold mirror of the elevator doors, watching the people in the lobby move behind her in wavy streaks. Could anybody tell what she was doing? She felt as if she was wearing a neon sign on her head advertising her unseemly intentions.

Her hand still tingled where the phone had vibrated against her palm when he’d called. “Room 421,” he’d said. That was it. No niceties or polite chitchat. Beth had said okay and hung up before hurrying toward the lobby. Unfortunately the elevator didn’t seem to be in as much of a hurry as she was.

When the Up arrow finally lit with a faint chime, she slumped in relief. Then she heard Roland Kendall call her name.

Her mouth made a comical O of alarm in the elevator door before it slid open. For a brief moment, she considered sprinting into the elevator and slamming her hand against the Door Close button, but that could possibly be seen as suspicious. So she pasted a numb smile onto her face and turned.

“Hello, Mr. Kendall. How’s Monica?” She spoke way too fast, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“She’s wonderful. I’m still waiting for her to get married and give me some grandchildren, but she can’t seem to settle down.”

Beth couldn’t imagine Monica as a mom. She’d always struck Beth as self-absorbed and manipulative, though she was also smart as hell. Still, if they hadn’t been suitemates in college, Beth would never have exchanged two words with the woman.

“So, Beth, are you still running that unfortunate store? You’re one of the savviest young ladies I’ve ever met and it’s a shame that you’re involved with that place.”

Oh, Jesus. Every time she’d seen Roland Kendall in the past few years he brought this up. She wished she could simply excuse herself, but what could she say? Sorry, I need to get upstairs to have sex with a man I hardly know. Nothing to do with my unfortunate store, though.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. “Well?” His tone suggested that she was answerable to him in some way.

“Um. Still there, yes. Say, I heard you were talking to Donovan Brothers about beer for High West.”

“Pardon me? How’d you hear that?”

Oops. In her panic to change the subject, she’d latched on to the one thing she didn’t want to talk about. “Oh, you know. Small-town talk. But I hear the Donovan family is great.” Don’t say any more, her brain frantically ordered. Zip it.

Kendall grunted. “I’m not convinced. I like their product, but the brewery’s been around for almost twenty-five years. I need a name that’s a little more fresh, I think.”

Beth looked at the negativity written so clearly on his face. Roland Kendall was a successful businessman, but he worked from the gut and had rigid ideas about his businesses. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in giving Jamie Donovan a chance.

It shouldn’t matter to her. She shouldn’t get involved. But Jamie was smart and good-hearted and she didn’t like to see him so easily dismissed. “I’ve met Jamie Donovan,” she blurted out, even as she tried to stop herself.

“Oh?”

“I was impressed. You should at least give them a chance. It’s a company run by young people, right? How stale could it be?”

“Well—”

“And it’s a beloved local company. That could be some great publicity.”

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms and glared down at the floor.

“Think about it, at least.”

“I will.”

“Well,” she prompted. “It was nice seeing you.”

Thankfully, he’d already lost interest in her, and he simply waved a hand and walked away. Beth counted to ten then punched the button with her finger. The doors slid open and she jumped inside.

She put Roland Kendall from her mind, but that left room for the anxiety she’d been feeling before. Oh, God, her brain repeated as the elevator rose. Oh, God, I’m really doing this. Was he waiting? Was he wondering where she was?

When she stepped out, her heels clicked too loudly against the tile floor outside the elevator before they were muffled by the carpet of the hallway. A sign pointed her in the direction of room 421, and Beth forced herself not to slow as she turned down the hallway and headed closer to Jamie Donovan.

What would happen when she got there? Would they just…start? My God, what if he was already undressed?

Her toe scraped the carpet and Beth stumbled to a halt before forcing herself to walk on. No, he was not going to be standing there in black socks and what the Lord gave him. And if he was, she’d simply turn around and run, no question.

But she had to assume everything would go well. If she didn’t go into this with a positive attitude, the night would turn out badly. She’d think too much. She’d worry that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Then she’d worry that she wasn’t enjoying herself, because she so desperately wanted to be the kind of woman who threw herself into sex and devoured every second of it. She wanted to be good in bed, for her own sake. She wanted to love it as much as she loved the idea of it.

And Jamie had certainly proved that they worked well together. She had every reason to think happy thoughts.

Beth forced herself to take a deep breath as she approached the next door: 421. The numbers were smaller than she’d expected. Innocuous. They didn’t loom or glow. They didn’t pulse with red menace.

“Okay,” she whispered. Before she could lose her nerve, Beth straightened her dress, smoothed down her hair and knocked.

He opened the door too fast and had to catch it before it slammed into the wall. The startled look on his face drew a shocked laugh from Beth. And the humor wasn’t the only thing that prompted relief to well up inside her. He was still fully clothed. And he was holding a tumbler of something bubbly.

“Champagne?” he asked as she stepped past him.

“Thank you!”

“I’m sorry, there weren’t any wineglasses.”

“No, this is perfect.” She took a grateful sip and then sipped again, faced with the horror that she didn’t know what else to say. The door closed hard behind her. They were standing alone together in a room with a dresser, a bed and not much else.

Something swelled beneath her breastbone, pressing into her throat. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. Heat rose up her neck.

“There’s a beautiful view,” he said quietly, moving toward the window.

A view. There was a beautiful view. The tightness in her chest loosened by small degrees as she realized she’d have a few moments to compose herself.

His pants were still on, after all. He hadn’t jumped her. Hell, she was here to have sex with him, and Jamie was behaving with a lot more restraint than that asshole at the reception earlier.

When he reached the window and turned toward her, a frown tugged his eyebrows low. And a realization hit her. Hard.

Beth finally knew what her fantasy was. What buttons she’d always wanted pushed. All those years of wondering, hoping, waiting…and here it was in the stormy eyes of this man.

She didn’t want to be the seductress. She didn’t want to be the experienced one. She wanted to be overwhelmed. Persuaded. Coaxed.

No wonder she’d been such a failure at this. The men who asked her out were looking for a sexual savant. And deep in her heart, Beth wanted to be seduced.

She was an old-school-feminist failure.

He tilted his head, and the hard line of his mouth softened. “Are you all right?”

“Yes!” she answered too brightly as she hurried the last few feet to join him.

He slid the window open, and a cool, crisp breeze swept over them. The sky glowed violet behind the black silhouette of Longs Peak.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “It is beautiful. It’s a gorgeous night.” Beyond the faint traffic, she could hear the occasional coo of mourning doves. The wind touched her again, licking over her skin like cool hands. She closed her eyes.

“Beth,” he murmured. “If you’ve changed your mind…”

She breathed in the scent of fresh leaves and icy water. “No.” Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She set her purse on the chair, and then Jamie took the glass from her hand and set it down on the sill.

“Would it be an exaggeration if I said I’ve spent days thinking of kissing you?”

Adrenaline shot through her. “I don’t know. Would it be?”

“Two whole days. Almost. That counts…” His hand rose to frame her cheek. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered against his thumb as he touched it to her lower lip. “It does.”

The nerves of her lips buzzed as if they were about to go numb, but Beth pushed thoughts of numbness away. She wanted to feel everything, and he was lowering his head, slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. As if she had to be eased into this.

The thought tightened her clit and made her hands shake. His lips touched her as if she were fragile.

Oh, God. Oh, God, yesss.

He brushed his mouth against hers one more time, and then ever so gently caught her lower lip between his teeth.

Perfect.

Beth sighed against him and raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself against the rush of sensation. His lips, his teeth, the slow slide of his hands up her back…

What they’d done in the bar last night hadn’t made him less of a stranger, and alarm rushed through her brain as he eased closer. But this was the kind of alarm that had fed one-night stands for centuries. The kind of alarm that pushed your blood harder into pulse points and erogenous zones. The fear that made it feel as if every cell in your body was pulling toward your skin.

When their tongues finally touched, he tasted of champagne, and Beth let the sweetness go to her head and overwhelm her worries.

She tasted more deeply, aware that his fingers pressed into her hips when she sucked at his tongue. This wasn’t just a first kiss, after all. This was the prelude to illicit sex, and she didn’t want to forget that for one moment. So when he slanted his mouth over hers, Beth slid her fingers into his hair and clutched him tight.

Yes, yes, yes, her mind sang as they pressed closer. His looks might easily have turned out to be the best thing about him, but they weren’t. Not by a long shot. He smelled good and he tasted better, and he didn’t grab her ass or get impatient. No, Jamie Donovan did everything with slow deliberation.

He had experience, after all. He knew what he was doing.

His tongue swept against hers. His hand slid lower on her hip, fingers spreading out until they edged along the swell of her ass. Then he eased his hips close enough that her belly pressed snug against his erection. Unlike some men she’d dated, he didn’t hump her like a ninth-grade boy at summer camp. Instead, he just held her there, deliberate and patient. Beth would’ve melted into a puddle if she hadn’t been so intent on staying right where she was.

She didn’t know how long they kissed—one minute or twenty—but by the time he reached for the back of her strappy black dress, Beth nearly wept with relief.

The biting sound of the zipper sang through the room. His knuckles brushed down her skin. Finally, just at the base of her spine, the zipper caught. She expected him to pull her dress off immediately, and when he didn’t, anticipation buzzed just under her skin, so sharp it was nearly pain. He trailed his fingers down her naked spine, and she gasped against his tongue, spiking coolness into their kiss. She was surrounded by him. His cock pressed to her belly, his arms warming her ribs. His hands teasing her back.

He flattened his palm at the base of her spine, easing her even tighter into him. Heat spread through her like a craving, squeezing everything tight.

She needed to draw more air into her lungs, so she slid her mouth from his, and Jamie kissed along her jaw until he reached her arching neck.

A whimper snuck from her throat. In response to that soft sound, he growled. That low rumble told her everything she needed to know. He wanted her. He liked this. His hips pressed closer, and she rolled into his shaft in encouragement.

He seemed encouraged. A shudder ran through him and he scraped his teeth over the curve of her shoulder.

Urgency overtook her in a sudden wave. She clutched his hair in her fists, and when she guided his mouth back to hers, they kissed hard, like they were fucking already and vicious with it. Jamie gave up his campaign of slowness and pushed her dress down her body.

Her nerves were sent conflicting signals. His hands held her hips in a hot grip, his suit brushed cool against her naked skin. She shivered at the delicious sensation, but she wanted his heat all over, so Beth pushed his coat off his shoulders. He had to let her go to drop the coat, and when he took a step back and his gaze dropped…

His body froze. The coat fell to the floor.

He looked stunned as his gaze swept down her body. Appreciative, certainly, but dumbstruck, as well. His hungry shock gave her just the courage she needed to stand tall and let him look his fill. She knew the pale silk flattered her olive-toned skin. She knew her dark nipples pressed visibly against the thin bra. Her nipples beaded more tightly under his attention.

By the time his gaze worked its slow way back to her face, Beth’s cheeks felt flushed with pink arousal.

Slowly, he slid his hand behind her neck and lifted her face for one more kiss. “You’re breathtaking, Beth. Way past beautiful.”

Tonight, she was. She could feel it in the way his other hand shaped her waist before sliding down the curve of her hip. Tonight she was a woman who wore red heels and stockings and worked every inch of the outfit.

He nudged her toward the bed and she backed up. It wasn’t until her legs touched the mattress that Beth realized how weak her knees were. She lowered herself slowly as he reached for his tie. He pulled the silk knot free and slid the tie off. Five seconds later, his shirt was off, as well.

She wanted to ask for more time to look over his wide chest, but he was leaning over her, and Beth lay back hoping he’d follow. He did. Finally, the heat she’d been chasing all night slammed through her. Stomach to stomach. Chest to chest. Mouth to mouth.

Starving, she dug her nails into his back.

She needed this. Now.

She was panting by the time he reached for the front clasp of her bra. She arched into his touch as the fabric slid free, exposing her breasts.

“Oh, God,” she gasped as he bent his head and drew her nipple hard against his tongue. Pleasure shot through her, trailing through her belly. Her clit tightened, already so hard she could feel her pulse beating there.

When he scraped his teeth over her, Beth wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and feel everything as deeply as she could, but that desire warred with the need to watch. So she tipped her head up and watched as he licked at the dark, tight bud. When he dragged his teeth over her again, goose bumps exploded across her skin. Her nipple glistened with wetness when he lifted his head and turned his attention to the other breast. Again, he sent painful need spiraling through her.

When he glanced up at her, the irises of his eyes were shockingly pale, like icy silver, as if he got cooler with passion, rather than hot. He slowly sucked her nipple between his teeth as he watched her. And when he pressed his hips tight to hers, she came so close to an orgasm that she threw her head back with a cry.

“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Now. Please, Jamie. Now.”

Chapter eight

ERIC SURGED UP, SO DAMN startled by hearing his brother’s name that he nearly leaped from the bed. Beth cried out again, rolling her hips against his.

The pressure against his cock warred with his guilt. Jesus, what if she screamed Jamie’s name as she came? He’d have nightmares about that for years. And it was wrong. It was immoral and dishonest and… Beth arched her back, and her nipples were tight, wet buds, flushed a deep red from his rough attention. His attentions, wrong name or not.

When he rose from the bed, it wasn’t to walk away from her. It was to reach for his belt buckle. He’d deal with the guilt later.

Once he’d stripped, Beth eyed him with such greedy lust that he convinced himself that names didn’t matter. She wanted him. And he’d never needed a woman more than he needed her.

She eased farther onto the bed. Eric took her heels off before sliding both hands up the warm silk of her stockings. Should he strip her bare? She looked amazing in lingerie, but the idea of seeing her totally naked made his heart pound even harder.

He feathered his thumbs over the naked skin of her thighs, still trying to formulate a plan. But it was so damn hard to think. And then Beth reached for the little ribbons on the sides of her panties. She pulled the ties loose, the fabric slid free, and Eric couldn’t think anymore.

He’d imagined her the night before. He’d wondered if she might be waxed nearly bare or pierced or…hell, she might’ve been on the cutting edge with some sort of adornment he’d never suspect. But she was a simple beauty. Dark curls and wet sex, and Jesus, he thought he might die of hot pleasure as he slipped his fingers along the seam of her body.

She cried out at that small touch, pushing her toes into the mattress, arching up. God, she was perfect, plump heat beneath his fingers. He rubbed her own wetness along her, circling her clit as she sobbed.

Eric’s cock throbbed, telling him she was ready, ready, ready. And she was. Before he could explore further, Beth was twisting around, reaching toward the side table where he’d tossed the condoms. He should help her. Be a gentleman and get the protection himself, but his body was beyond his control now. She’d turned over onto her stomach and her spectacular ass was laid out before him.

Good God, her body was a fantasy of smooth skin and round hips and tight muscle. He reached for her, helpless to stop from smoothing his hands down the perfect globes of her ass. He curved his hand over one glorious hip and eased his other hand between her legs. When he sunk two fingers deep into her pussy, Beth gasped and lifted her hips to take him deeper. Her slick folds and tight muscles squeezed against him as he slowly pushed his fingers into her.

She rose to her knees, breathing, “Oh, God,” over and over again.

He wanted his cock inside her as she prayed, and apparently she felt the same, because she thrust her arm back and pressed a condom into his hand.

As he slid it on, Beth raised both her hands to the top of the headboard and eased her knees farther apart.

She wanted it like this. Just like this. Nothing romantic or soft about it. His hands nearly shook with the violence of his need as he pressed his palm flat to the small of her back.

Silence stretched between them. They both held their breath. Then he took his cock in hand and slid it along the folds of her sex, rubbing her wetness along her until she squirmed. Finally, his head notched against her, and he pushed inside.

“Ah,” she breathed, her hands gripping the headboard tighter. “Ah, God.” He eased farther in, watching his shaft push slowly into her body. He’d never felt anything so hot or so tight. Nothing. His muscles had never shaken with the need to set all control aside and simply take.

He held himself still, his breath racing from his throat. His fingers brushed the soft fabric of her garter belt, and he was suddenly glad she’d left it on. She looked wicked as sin as she arched her back.

Her muscles eased the slightest bit around him, and finally, his hips were flush against her ass. He tightened his grip and began to move.

“Yes,” she urged as he thrust slow and deep inside her. Every stroke rubbed a thousand of his nerves at once. A million. And every tiny whimper from her throat made him want to fuck her harder.

She pushed against his hands, tilting her hips. That tiny little movement pulled him deeper. Eric couldn’t stop from taking her faster, rougher. Now instead of easing, her muscles tightened, squeezing his cock in bands of pleasure.

He thrust too hard. Beth cried out and rose higher, but before he could gentle his movements, she reached a hand down her own stomach. He felt her fingers brush the base of his shaft as she rubbed her clit. She moaned at her own touch, and Eric had to close his eyes. He couldn’t watch and listen and feel all at once, or he was going to come right then. He imagined how it must feel to her, to touch the soft heat of her sex as his shaft slid deep inside her.

He ground his teeth together and held his pace. Her muscles got so tight he felt as if he was growing thicker inside her.

“Jesus,” he rasped.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “That’s so…”

When her thighs began to shake, he lost any semblance of smoothness. Now he just fucked her hard, and finally, he felt her begin to spasm around him.

“No,” she keened, but she was gone. She groaned and bucked against him, and he barely managed to hold on through her climax. She was still shaking when he let his thin thread of control snap. He came so hard it was closer to torture than pleasure, and he shouted in desperate release.

He was left weak and numb, with no way to support his own weight. Eric leaned forward to grasp the headboard beside each of Beth’s hands. His chest touched her back and he pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “Christ, you’re amazing,” he breathed into her sweat-slick skin. “Amazing.”

They rested like that for a long moment, both of them panting. He wondered if she was as stunned as he. Probably not. She was sensuality personified.

His body insisted he collapse to the mattress and pass out, but he made himself slide from her body with slow deliberation before he eased down next to her. He wanted to impress her with his strength and virility and all-around manliness. He wanted her to know he was totally capable of doing this again. And again. As soon as humanly possible.

THE SOUND OF THEIR PANTING filled the room. Cool air from the open window touched Beth’s feet.

Time returned to her. She stared wide-eyed at the bedside lamp.

Good Lord above, had that really happened? Was that what her friends felt every time? No wonder they never stopped thinking and talking and tittering about it. Not that she hadn’t climaxed a hundred times over, but to feel that kind of overwhelming physical connection… Yeah, that was brand-new.

She became aware, in slow degrees, of where her body touched his. One calf. The backs of both thighs. Her ass. Nearly her whole back. It felt good, being pressed to this man she hardly knew. It didn’t seem possible that she could feel so comfortable with a stranger, but she did. Apparently the best orgasm of a girl’s life could work wonders on intimacy issues.

She pressed a careful hand to her belly, amazed at the way her muscles still twitched.

“Sorry,” he murmured near her ear, as his arm stretched past her. “I need to…” He reached for the box of tissues on the table.

Beth hid her smile. He was so polite. No wonder so many women liked him. He was even cuter now than he had been before he’d rocked her world.

The man was a god.

She was just starting to close her eyes when the familiar sound of her phone filled the room. Beth disentangled herself and sat up with a guilty lurch to dive for her purse. If it was Annabelle, she had to answer it, didn’t she? Annabelle had obviously had something important to say when she’d called earlier. And God only knew when she’d get through again.

When Beth finally found her phone, the display showed exactly the name she didn’t want to see. Damn it. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. I’ll just…”

“Of course.”

She hurried toward the bathroom, opening her phone as she closed the door.

“Annabelle,” she said as softly as she could without whispering.

“Beth! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice! Namaste.”

“Yes. Hi. Namaste.”

“I finally got a clear line.”

Beth caught a glimpse of herself and her garter belt in the mirror and stammered. “Uh-huh. Yes.”

“Is everything okay? You sound strange.”

“Everything’s fine.” She shot a look at the bathroom door. “It’s late here.”

“Hmm. I don’t know, Beth. You sound decidedly odd. Regardless, I have the most amazing news! You’re going to be so excited.”

Through the thin door, Beth heard Jamie’s phone ringing, too. If he started talking, would Annabelle hear?

“Um, Annabelle… Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’m not…I’m leaving a dinner and I can’t talk. Just don’t move, okay?”

“Beth—”

She snapped the phone shut just as Jamie answered his phone. His indistinct words rumbled through the closed door, and just the sound of his voice made her melt. She still wanted him. Even now. Even while she was completely spent and satisfied.

But now she was stuck in the bathroom and didn’t know what to do. She frowned at the girl standing in the mirror. A girl in a hotel bathroom in stockings and a garter belt, her sex still wet and aching. It felt way too vulnerable to simply waltz back in there and lie down in the bed. What if he wanted her to leave?

She should leave. He probably didn’t want to cuddle and spoon.

The door clicked softly when she opened it, and his voice became crisp and clear. For some reason, she felt shocked that he was standing there still naked with the phone pressed to his ear. He glanced up and she fought the urge to cover herself with her hands. Ridiculous. They’d just had insanely good sex. And he was totally exposed. Her eyes tried to wander down his body, as if she were a man faced with a plunging neckline. Eyes up, she chanted to herself. Eyes up. His gaze didn’t leave her face, which only made her feel more like a caveman.

Sorry, she mouthed, tiptoeing toward her clothes. He shook his head, but she ignored him and reached for her bra. The breeze from the open window curled around her and she shivered. She felt better about herself when he finally lost his hold on his gaze and it dipped to her breasts.

“Absolutely,” he said into the phone, but when she pointed toward the door, he shook his head again.

She dropped down to snatch up her dress then looked up without realizing how close she was to him. She stumbled back from the nudity so close at hand and yanked her dress on before twisting and turning to get the zipper up.

“Villanueva has a new restaurant on 8th,” he was saying as Beth slipped on her heels and grabbed her purse.

“Sorry,” she whispered, giving him a little wave.

Wait, he mouthed, but she pointed at her phone and gave a helpless shrug as if the call to Annabelle couldn’t possibly wait another few minutes. In reality, she needed to get out of here. She couldn’t get too attached to him. Not because she’d be embarrassed to date him. Not truly. Jamie had a sizzling reputation even among her friends. He was one preppy guy she might be able to pull off.

No, it wasn’t that. The truth was that, all doubts about her own sexuality aside, Beth knew she’d be even worse at love than she was at lust. She’d been working toward a more satisfying sex life for years. But love…oh, she couldn’t even look in that direction without wincing. And any more sex like that and she’d be in serious danger of getting attached.

She’d already turned away when she registered that he was reaching toward her. She stuttered to a stop, but when she turned back, he’d dropped his hand.

“Morton’s in Denver,” he said into the phone, his face tight with frustration as she backed away. “Yes, I know where it is. Absolutely, Mr. Kendall.”

Mr. Kendall!

She was out the door before she realized she’d been holding her breath long enough to get light-headed. She was on the elevator when she realized she’d forgotten her panties. And she was already on the phone with Annabelle when she was hit with the most shocking realization of all.

She’d just walked away from a great thing. And that was her single, solitary regret about what she’d just done, forgotten panties and all. Hell, she’d even convinced Kendall to give Donovan Brothers a chance.

A smile tugged at her mouth as she heard the phone line open up, feeding sound in from the other side of the world. But her boss’s rush of excited words tamped down both Beth’s urge to smile, not to mention her feeling of accomplishment.

Her nervous triumph evaporated.

Beth had thought she’d been forced to fake her way through her career for years, but Annabelle’s new idea for the store made clear that Beth’s charade had only just begun. This was going to take her to a whole new level of faking it. What an awful end to a fabulous night.

Chapter nine

“EIGHT SHARP,” KENDALL was saying while Eric stared at the room door as if it had just punched him in the gut. “And be sure you bring your brother.”

“What? I’m not sure that’s a good—”

“My daughter, Monica, will attend the meeting, as well. She’s handling day-to-day operations for High West. What was your sister’s name again?”

“My sister?” His mind wasn’t keeping up. He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on this conversation. “Tessa.”

“Tessa,” Kendall repeated. “That’s right. She’s welcome, too, if she can make it. I liked her. She’s not one of those ball-busting women.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” Eric muttered. Jesus Christ, he was standing here, still buck naked, and Beth was gone. “So, tomorrow at eight,” he managed to say.

Kendall grunted what sounded like an affirmative before hanging up, and Eric found himself standing with a dead phone pressed to his ear, his mind still quaking with shock.

She was gone. Just as quickly as she’d arrived. They’d spent one hour together. He glanced at the clock. Jesus, not even an hour. So how did he feel so changed?

Spent, empty, exhausted. But not hollow.

She’d used him, just as he’d used her, and somehow he was buoyed by that. He’d spent his whole life giving everything to his family. Love and duty. His past, present and future. And he’d given it gladly. But tonight he’d given himself. There was no history with Beth, no obligation. They’d offered only what they’d each wanted to give.

Still, he’d expected that Beth would spend the night so they could slake their thirst. The sex had been spectacular. So damn hot he was still seeing stars at the edges of his vision. And it hadn’t been nearly enough.

A car pulled out of the parking lot and he watched its lights fade far below, wondering if it was her.

She’d left so quickly, and… He hadn’t asked her to stay.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Had he committed a one-night-stand faux pas? He’d rented the room. He’d invited her up. Maybe conventional wisdom called for her to scramble into her clothes and hit the door unless he stopped her.

Damn it, he’d never done this before.

He turned to face the bed. It was rumpled, but they hadn’t even pulled the covers back. It looked almost as if Beth had never happened.

But she damn sure had. His chest still felt strained and tight, as if his lungs weren’t quite working yet.

Just yesterday, the first moment he’d glimpsed her, Beth Cantrell had struck him as a fantasy. His opinion hadn’t changed after tonight. She was a fantasy. Her curvy softness. Her wet, eager body. Her honest desire.

Staring at the bed, he briefly considered staying. He could stretch out on the mattress and reminisce. Hold on to the fantasy a little while longer.

But right now, the room didn’t look like remembered sex. It looked sad and lonely.

With a sigh of deep regret, he picked up his clothes from the floor and dressed. He had work to do tonight and more important things to think about than sex.

But, Jesus, she’d been tight with need, and soaking wet. Eric would’ve given her anything. Anything she’d wanted. As it’d turned out, she’d wanted exactly what he had. A hot, needful connection. A moment of truth.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories sink in. Then he reached for his shoes—and paused at a flash of pale gold.

Narrowing his eyes, he reached across his shoe for the delicate material just hidden beside it. “Oh,” he said as he closed his fingers over Beth Cantrell’s underwear. They were featherlight in his hand, but they added considerable weight to his shoulders.

What the hell was he supposed to do with her panties? His first thought was to return them, but that immediately struck him as creepy. Hey, little lady, look what I found. Nudge, nudge.

Weird. But what if she asked about them? It seemed unlikely, but Eric wasn’t interested in stammering over a lie. And it seemed a crime to blithely toss out the delicate fabric that had just lain against her skin.

Instead of throwing the underwear in the trash, Eric stuffed them into his pants pocket, suspicious of his own motivation. It wasn’t like him to sleep with a stranger. It wasn’t like him to have sex based on a lie. And it wasn’t like him to walk around with a pair of panties in his pocket. Eric had a sudden fear that this night would turn him into a pervert who got off on fondling used underwear in his darkened living room.

He drew his hand out of his pocket with a curse and snatched up his shoes and socks. One minute later and he was done, buttoned up and tied, cell phone and keys in hand. As he walked out and let the door slam behind him, Beth seemed more a dream than ever.

But reality awaited him in the lobby. She was still there, standing just to the side of the lobby doors, frowning as she spoke into her cell phone.

Eric froze. His hand went immediately to the pocket of his slacks. His fingers touched silk. Should he approach her? Not to thrust the panties at her, but at least to walk her to her car. Shit, he should’ve thought of that to begin with.

Eric stepped forward. He was within five feet of her when she turned toward him. She shook her head, but he took one more step—“Eric!”

He whirled toward his sister’s voice, heart pounding in panic, and something flew from his hand. His eyes darted after the blur of motion.

“God,” Tessa said. “Are you okay?”

His phone landed with a thunk and slid across the carpet. His phone. Not Beth’s panties.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, but his panic wasn’t quite gone. He started to turn toward Beth to see if she’d heard his name. But his sister’s hand touched his arm.

“Hey. Are you all right? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Shaking his head, Eric lurched a few steps forward and grabbed his errant phone. “You did startle me. I thought you’d gone home.”

“I started to, but I decided to stay for a drink.”

That stopped Eric from worrying about himself. “What? Tessa, do you know how dangerous it is to hang around in a bar?”

Tessa gave an obvious look around the brightly lit lobby. “What can I say? I like dark alleys and taking crazy risks.”

“Just…” He slid a glance toward the front doors and found an empty spot where Beth had been. His heart sank even as relief loosened the tightness in his throat. Without looking at his sister, he asked how much she’d had to drink.

“Two drinks over the past two hours, Eric. I’m fine.”

“I’ll drive you home anyway. That way I’ll know.”

Tessa gave a long-suffering sigh. “Look, Dad, I’m fine. I swear. One of those drinks was that awful white wine spritzer you got me.”

He cringed as he always did when she called him Dad, but Tessa just laughed and kissed his cheek. “Come on. I’m fine. But you can tuck me into my car.”

He walked her out to her car, as he would’ve done on any evening, but this time he kept his eyes peeled for another woman. But Beth Cantrell had disappeared into the night.

It was over. He told himself he should be glad. He’d landed the meeting with Kendall and lived out a fantasy with Beth, all in one night. But somehow he still felt hungry.

Chapter ten

DÉJÀ VU. HERE THEY WERE again at the expo, pretending not to stare at each other.

Eric pressed the phone harder to his ear and glared down at the souvenir glasses lined up in rows on the table. “Come on,” he growled at his sister. “You can make it. You’ve got two hours to find someone to work the bar.”

“There’s nobody else, okay? And I’ve got a headache anyway. I wouldn’t be any use to you.”

“Maybe you drank too much last night.”

“I had two drinks!”

Eric gripped the back of his neck, hard. “Have Jamie work the damn bar, all right? I want you there.”

She muttered a curse under her breath. “Kendall specifically asked for Jamie. Don’t be an idiot.”

And what the hell was that about? Kendall had never even met Jamie. Maybe he wanted to meet all the owners of Donovan Brothers before he made a decision.

“Eric, come on. We all want this. Not just me or you. Jamie wants to be involved, too.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Right.” It wasn’t that he thought Jamie and Tessa shouldn’t be involved. It was just that…Eric took care of things. That was his role. He took care of them. He owed them that. “I know you two are as responsible for the business as I am, it’s just…I’m not sure Jamie is right for this job.”

“Oh, come on. He’s great. What could go wrong?”

“Seriously? Kendall’s daughter is coming.”

“Jamie’s smarter than you give him credit for. And Kendall’s daughter will probably like him more than she’ll like me.”

“That’s my point. Look, of course Jamie’s smart, but I want you there. Please?”

“He’ll be good for this deal. You’ll see.”

Eric glared blindly out at the crowd, then realized a man who’d been headed toward the booth veered away. Eric tried to school his features into something less fierce.

“I’ll handle it on my own,” he snapped. “Tell Jamie to take the night off. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Eric—”

He snapped the phone shut and hoped to God Jamie didn’t show up. The deal was sitting right there in Eric’s palm. All he had to do was close his fingers slowly enough that he didn’t startle Kendall. Jamie never did anything slowly, especially if there was a woman involved.

Speaking of slowly… Reinforcing his sense of déjà vu, Eric stole a look across the booths to find that Beth was still there. Just like that first day. Today she wore a dark blue dress and heels that reminded him of cream in coffee.

The difference was that now he knew what she looked like under her beautiful clothes. He knew how round that ass was, and how it flexed under his hands when she pushed against him. Her knew that her breasts were high and full and the nipples nearly brown against her skin.

Was she wearing stockings again? Was she thinking about him? Or had she already moved on?

For the briefest of moments, their eyes met. When she looked away, pink climbed up her cheeks, and he marveled that he had the power to make a woman like her blush.

A sweet ache filled his chest as he watched her tape up a box and set it aside.

The hall was clearing out. The convention was over. This thing between them was over. But Eric had a bitter taste over how it had ended. It didn’t sit well. Hell, in his work, he knew damn well that half the satisfaction of any experience was the last taste it left on the tongue. She’d left so quickly, and he was still struggling with the lie he’d let grow between them.

She packed up one last box and added it to the pile before she gathered up a sweater and her purse.

“Henry,” he said without looking at the kid packing up their own booth. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She stepped out into the flow of people, moving away without a farewell glance. Eric followed her. He tried to keep a distance. She didn’t want anyone to know about him, and he didn’t want anyone to know about her. For him, the secret had started from his lie, but now he just wanted to keep the night for himself. He didn’t want it cheapened by others’ thoughts. Yes, it had been a casual encounter, but it hadn’t been meaningless.

Beth headed toward the wall of doors at the front of the conference center. Eric picked up the pace. She moved damn fast in those shoes. He told himself not to get distracted by the tiny bows on the backs of the heels. He told himself not to think about running his hand from her ankle to her calf, up past the sensitive skin behind her knee until he got to the hot, sweet skin of her thigh…

Beth reached a hand out, only feet away from a glass door. Eric took two more steps and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

“Oh!” she yelped, eyes flying wide as she spun toward him. He used her momentum to turn her to the side and tug her toward a solid metal door that hid the emergency stairwell.

Maybe it was shock, but she followed him through the door with no resistance.

“Jamie. I—”

He had to tell her. He meant to tell her. But as soon as the door closed behind them, he covered her mouth with a kiss. Her lips parted immediately. Her tongue slid against his in hunger. Just as desperate a hunger as he felt, surely. Her hands clung to his shoulders as she raised a knee to rub it between his.

Eric was immediately, painfully hard. His body didn’t think this was over, not by far. She was live heat beneath his hands, just as she had been last night. Warm skin and slippery fabric and hair that slid over his forearms. He could kiss her forever. She was perfect.

But metal banged somewhere from above them, and the sound was still echoing through the stairwell when Beth pulled away and set a hand to the wall. Her fingers spread wide, going white at the knuckles.

“We can’t,” she panted.

“I know. Jesus, I know. I only meant to stop you and make sure you’re all right. You left so quickly.”

Beth put a hand to her chest and licked her lips nervously. He had an almost overwhelming urge to lean in and taste her again, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I had to take that call. It was my boss. She wants me to start teaching classes. At the shop.”

He felt his eyebrows fly toward his hairline. “Classes? On sex?”

“I know.” She waved a hand before pressing it to her closed eyes. “I know, it’s—”

“Impressive?” Classes. Wow. He’d had a fling with a woman who taught sex classes. He didn’t know whether to be freaked out or proud.

Her brow crumpled into lines of worry. “No, it’s ridiculous.”

Yes, it was that, too. He didn’t think Beth would mention him in a class, but shit. What if she did? He definitely couldn’t tell her his real name now. Anyway, Jamie would probably love being the subject of a sex-class discussion.

“Jamie,” she whispered. “Listen. I’m not really…” Whatever she’d been about to say, she snapped her mouth shut when a voice passed close to the doorway. Her eyes stayed on the door until the voice faded. Then she took a deep breath.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her gaze slipped to the floor. “Nothing. It’s just that I’m going to be really busy for a while.” The words excused her from any further contact with him. He could see that plain as day. Disappointment passed over him in waves equal to his relief. Sex classes. Maybe their connection was best left as an amazing memory.

“It’s fine,” he said slowly. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh.” The tension faded from her face, and she met his eyes again.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he said.

She tilted her head and studied him before reaching up to put her hand to his cheek. “There’s nothing awkward here. Or complicated. Nothing we need to explain. Last night was a wonder. So thank you.”

“Beth—”

She snuck close again, wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. The faint scent of her skin was a beacon, drawing him near. He forgot his guilt over not telling her the truth. She was right. It would be awful to ruin that night with awkwardness now. He pressed his mouth to her neck and whispered, “I think the wrong person is saying thank you.”

“Oh, no. You have my eternal gratitude.”

He was smiling when she kissed him, and it seemed appropriate for such a gentle press of her lips. And in that moment, all his conflicting emotions smoothed out into a long, easy line of happy satisfaction. Last night had been a great idea, and he wasn’t going to have another moment of regret over it.

“You were just what I needed,” she said.

“An embarrassingly preppy one-night stand?”

She ran a hand over the collar of his polo shirt. “An embarrassingly preppy one-night stand who rocked my world. But don’t tell. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“It’ll be our secret,” he said, a hot thrill circling his chest at the words.

They didn’t bother with any polite offers of future phone calls or friendly promises to be in touch. Beth whispered, “Good luck with Kendall,” against his cheek. He kissed her one last time. She slipped away. And he let her go.

He had to learn how to let things go, after all. He’d start with Beth Cantrell. Maybe in a few months, he’d work on loosening his iron grip on the Donovan family business. Maybe.

But the memory of last night? That was a secret he’d never give up. He’d never share. And no one would ever find out.