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  She wrapped her legs around his waist, which tore the side seams of her skirt. Another suit damaged, but she didn’t care. Cole wanted her so much he was taking her against the door, his pants around his ankles, completely out of control. She gloried in the wild recklessness of the moment.

  Cole pulled out and thrust again hard, bracing her with his hands, pumping in, holding her in place, making her feel every inch of him.

  She didn’t expect another climax, but it loomed, spurred by the hunger in Cole’s face, the power in his stroke, the way he held her safely all the while.

  Moans and cries and gasps filled the air, she couldn’t tell their voices apart. They blended in a lusty symphony.

  Then Cole sped up, pumping so rapidly, she couldn’t believe it didn’t hurt. But it seemed like they were one body, perfectly connected, perfectly in tune. As if the curve of his crown, the swell of his shaft had been made to fit her exactly. They moved in perfect synch, a smooth rush to the peak and then over together.

  She felt each spasm of his release as a gift. Here and here. From me to you. She clutched him with her internal muscles and gave of herself. For you, Cole. For you.

  And then his mouth landed on hers and they kissed for soft, lush seconds. Still holding her, Cole kicked off his pants, shoved off his shoes and managed to carry her to her bedroom, where they crashed onto her bed together—her on her back, Cole looking down at her.

  She’d just had two orgasms with most of her clothes on. She placed her palms against Cole’s chest. His heart thudded behind the thick, starched fabric of his shirt.

  “We’re still dressed,” Cole said, a twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes. “I can’t believe you went to work without underwear.”

  “I didn’t. I whipped them off before you got here.”

  “Good girl,” he said, kissing her again. “And you took time to brush your teeth.” He licked the corner of her mouth, then seemed to sample the taste. “Hmm? Thompson’s Ultimate Fluoride?”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s what I use. Mouthwash, fluoride and whitening all in one little dab.”

  “So efficient.”

  “Exactly.” That little flicker of connection made her feel ridiculously happy.

  Cole smiled, feeling it, too, no doubt. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt, then tossed it to a chair, his muscles fanning out beautifully as he moved. God, he was hot. So what if she should be working? This was such a thrill, an incredible experience she was lucky to enjoy.

  She removed her own clothes and tossed them to the floor—who cared about wrinkles and dry cleaning…so not like her—then spread her limbs in a snow angel in the sheets. When was the last time she’d felt so loose and easy? Summers in high school, maybe, when she’d wake with nothing to do but read, swim and listen to her favorite music. Those were the days, when her time was her own. When had she gotten so busy and why?

  “You look comfortable,” Cole said, watching her, his gaze possessive. Mine, all mine.

  “Oh, I am. I don’t want to move.”

  “All the endorphins, huh?” He lowered his mouth to kiss her breasts, each in turn, lifting his head to look at her in between.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “So you feel more productive?” he teased, running his tongue over her nipples, one at a time. “Better able to concentrate?”

  She wiggled under him, pivoting her hips, wanting him again. “Mmm. Soooo productive.” They should get up now and work. He had his briefcase, after all. But she was getting aroused all over again and it felt too good. Who knew when she’d have an opportunity like this again?

  “Hungry?” he breathed against her breast.

  “Oh, yeah. Hunnnngry.” She dragged out the word, wrapping her legs around his back, sliding her sex against him for some delicious friction.

  He chuckled. “I mean for food.” He kept up his nipple action, sucking this time, while rubbing her sex with a slow finger.

  “We can…get…delivery,” she managed to say. “Menus… in…kitchen.” She closed her eyes and soaked in the glory of his fingers and tongue working her over, making her knot up and go limp at the same time.

  “I’ll go,” he breathed against her chest, then ceased his lovely torture. “You don’t move.”

  “I can’t,” she moaned. “I’m a noodle.”

  “Don’t tempt me, I’m already starving.” He kissed her mouth and pushed off the bed, returning seconds later with a take-out menu, his wallet and something small between thumb and forefinger. “Jacket button,” he said, placing it on the bureau. “So it doesn’t get lost.”

  “You are the most thoughtful man.”

  “I thought maybe Mexican?” He held out the menu he’d selected—the best deep-fat-fried-everything place in town.

  “My favorite place.”

  “I love Mexican food, but I don’t know this restaurant.”

  “It’s the best. But there’s nothing healthy on the menu.”

  “Ah, but this is a special occasion. Plus, look at all the exercise we’re getting.” He fished a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to her, then reached across her body for the phone from the nightstand. “You call. I’ll pay.” He kissed her neck, shifting his body over her until his erection rested snugly between her legs. “Order whatever comes to mind,” he murmured, kissing along her collarbone.

  She clicked in the number. The take-out clerk had just asked, “What would you like?” when Cole began to trail kisses down her body. He was going down on her.

  Oh, that. I want that. “Two orders of…fl-au-au-tas.” Tightly wound corn tortillas with guacamole garnish seemed appropriately suggestive. “Huh?” she asked, her hearing foggy. Cole’s fingers were ticking her skin while he kissed her stomach. “Beans? Yes…rice…sure…uhhuh… Oh, yes on the hot sauce.”

  He kissed her thighs, then blew softly between them and she ordered chile relleno—a pepper stuffed with hot liquid…which perfectly described her body below the waist.

  Then his fingers spread her and his tongue found her, tasting her as if she were a delicious hors d’oeuvres. Feeling frantic, she ordered more hot and juicy items, her vision going gray. He dabbed her again and again, until she felt as though she would dissolve like pan dulce in milk.

  Somehow she managed to read off Cole’s credit card number, then tossed the phone away. “I sounded like I was slipping into a coma,” she said to him. “The paramedics could be here before the food. Oh, oh, oh.”

  “I’ll save you,” he breathed, increasing the stroke of his incredibly skilled tongue, settling in between her thighs.

  She locked her knees against his temples and rode him, faster and faster, her skin prickling with heat, her clit tightening with the pending release.

  Then it hit, hard and strong, a glorious surge of pleasure. Just as the feeling faded, Cole inserted a finger into her and pulled down while pressing the tip of his tongue on her spot. To her amazement, she climaxed again, quick and intense. She would have flown off the bed, except Cole held her firmly until the sweet, quivery end of it.

  “How did you…?” she gasped out. “Where did you…? You should write a book.”

  He chuckled as he kissed his way up her body, drying his face against her as he went in a way that felt luxurious and juicy and so sexy. He reached her mouth and kissed her, giving her a little of her own light musk. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Enjoyed it? I was paralyzed. You should get a patent, teach workshops, start a movement, something.”

  “I’ve done some reading.”

  “No! You studied?”

  “If you want to be good at something, study the experts.” He winked at her.

  “Give me your reading list or I’ll never keep up.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not the book, Kylie. It’s you. It’s being with you.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m not usually so… on.”

  “Me, either.” It was as if they could read each other’s minds and bodies. “I feel lucky,” she
said, running her fingers through his hair. And a little puzzled. “Maybe it’s because we’re each headed somewhere—you’re looking to get married and I’m making a big career switch—and we’re nervous about it.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning there’s tension. And that intensifies pleasure.” And made it hard to let go. She wanted to burrow into his body for hours, maybe days.

  “Possible,” he said, sounding not so sure. “You’re saying we’re the right people meeting at the right time.”

  “Exactly. And speaking of time…we’ve got ten minutes until the food gets here. I do my best work on deadline.” She slid down his body, holding his gaze.

  “Let ’em leave it at the door,” Cole said, his voice rough with desire, the anticipation in his hot-coffee eyes making her want to give him the best head ever.

  WHY THE HELL had he brought his briefcase? Cole wasn’t moving one inch from Kylie’s sweet mouth until she was done with him. And what she was doing right now made him hope that moment never came.

  She tightened her lips over the head of his cock, did something extraordinary with her tongue, while her one hand stroked the lower half of his shaft in a tight rhythm that made it tough to keep from exploding into her. He shortened his thrusts, wanting to slow it down, but she moved faster, making him crazy. He wanted to touch her, too, but she teased the hot spot under his crown with the tip of her tongue and he felt pole-axed in place.

  If he’d ever had sex this good, he didn’t remember it.

  Her free hand reached up to stroke his chest and he lifted her fingers to his mouth so he could run his tongue into the space between her index and middle fingers.

  She quaked in response, then shifted to lock her thighs around his leg and madly work herself against him. He sucked and licked her fingers, which he’d be doing to her sex if he had the wherewithal to move or even remember his own name.

  She rocked harder and he quickened the thrusts of his cock into her mouth. His balls tightened, preparing for release. He got ready to pull out, not sure how she felt about him coming in her mouth.

  She sucked harder, bearing down with her lips and the back of her throat. Do it. I want it. She coaxed him to the brink and over and he bucked into her sweet mouth, while she held him—all his need funneled into that spurt of hot liquid that Kylie seemed to want every drop of. He couldn’t imagine anything sexier or more tender.

  Right people, right time, right? he thought as she slid up his body, smiling at him. She glanced at her clock. “Mmm. Nice appetizer. And with a minute to spare.”

  He smiled back and cupped her face. This was more than a happy collision of need and tension. He wanted more time with this amazing woman. More sex, of course, but more talk, too. He wanted to know all her secrets and tell her his.

  How unfortunate, what with her leaving town and him needing a wife. Right people, wrong time, he concluded. “You’re incredible,” he said.

  “I’d better be. You’re a couple of orgasms behind. Luckily, we have all night to catch you up.”

  He wanted to say something about this not being a race, but he was too busy thinking, Yahoo, she said all night, and then the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Kylie said, pushing off the bed, flying into the bathroom, zooming out in a shiny red robe. “Run us a bath and we’ll eat in the tub,” she called as she skimmed by. “Bubble stuff’s under the sink.”

  “Eat in the tub?”

  “Multitasking!” Her light laughter carried back to him.

  He flopped onto the pillow and found himself smiling like an idiot. It would be smarter to eat at the table, where they could work. There was Radar to think of, so he really couldn’t stay all night…

  Kylie laughed at something the delivery guy said and the sound cut through him with such power he started to shake. He had to stay. The universe was telling him to take this chance. It was a special occasion, right? He’d make up the work time somehow.

  Kylie’s bathroom was orderly and simple—a modest number of lotions and perfumes on a single glass shelf, hair dryer and curling iron on hooks and a separate shower stall. On the window ledge beyond the roomy tub rested a couple of photos in frames and a spiky plant—aloe vera, he thought it was. The window looked out on a terrace of plastic lawn furniture ringed by empty wooden flower boxes.

  He located the bath stuff under the sink, still shrink-wrapped and bearing a bow. Baths must be special occasions, since she hadn’t cracked the dusty gift basket. He poured a capful of “Tranquility Garden” bubble bath under the tap and adjusted the temperature to just shy of scalding.

  The tub was steamy and brimming with bubbles by the time Kylie entered with a tray that held an open take-out box piled high with food. The aroma of onions, garlic and fried dough mingled with the flowery scent, jamming the tiny room with pleasurable aromas.

  Kylie set the tray on the closed toilet lid and whipped off her robe. They faced each other and lowered themselves into the hot water. Her naked body made him lose his appetite for anything but her and she stared at his erection, bobbing above the foam. His need for her was embarrassingly obvious.

  “I feel the same way,” she said, her eyes glazed. She leaned forward to hold him, then let go with apparent regret. “One too many tasks. Let’s save it for dessert. I got sopaipillas with honey, too.”

  “Honey? Sounds delicious.”

  She smiled and situated the groaning tray of lard-drenched glory between them, handing him a fork. There were enchiladas, chile rellenos, flautas, beans, rice, tacos and a couple of chimichangas. He looked from the food to her face. “Quite a feast.”

  “You had me so crazed I just kept ordering.”

  “So we have leftovers.” He smiled. “Even better.”

  “Good point,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him, the porcelain squeaking against her back. “I have the best freezer bags.” She beamed and dug in. They ate in silence for a while, smiling at each other, trading bites, until she leaned back with a sigh. “Isn’t this great? We’re full and warm, inside and out. I never take baths. Or kick back much.”

  “Me, either,” he said, the sinking awareness of all the work he wasn’t doing making him wonder if he’d lost his mind completely. As long as he had Kylie in his sights he didn’t seem to care about everything that mattered to him.

  Her gaze drifted away, out the window. “Isn’t that a sad sight? I put in boxes for a garden when I first moved here. I had this wonderful layout—flowers and vegetables in a color blend that would roll through the seasons like a shifting rainbow.”

  “What happened?”

  “I managed one planting. The dry stalks made me feel so guilty that I ripped it all out. Now all I’ve got is this guy.” She leaned forward to run a finger along a stalk of the aloe vera on the ledge. “He can survive on the humidity from my shower.” She sounded so sad.

  “You’ll make time for a garden once you settle in L.A.”

  “I hope so. Growing up, I always helped my mom plant the garden. For comfort. The house would be different, the climate, the people, even the bugs, but the begonias stayed the same.”

  She shifted her gaze to one of the small photos beside the plant. “Janie really liked our gardens.”

  “That the two of you?” he asked, nodding at the picture, which showed them as toddlers in duck-shaped floats in a pool, Kylie with her arm tight around Janie, who grinned, cheerful in her sister’s chokehold.

  “Looks like I’m killing her, huh?” She picked up the photo and studied it, a trail of bubbles sliding down her arm.

  “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “I worried about her. She got sick a lot. Asthma, bronchitis…respiratory stuff. She was shy, too, and the moves freaked her out. My dad’s job took us everywhere. I tried to make things easier for her in each new place.” She put the photo back, still looking at it.

  Her devotion to her sister was as palpable as the steam in the room. Until now, she’d struck him as emotionally guard
ed, but now her face was soft with love. Perhaps she felt safe with him. He hoped so. “And you still watch out for her?”

  “When I can.” Tension tightened her eyes.

  He remembered what Janie had said about the stand-in date. “She’s afraid she’s imposing on you.”

  “She said that to you?”

  “Not in so many words. She felt bad about making you meet me for the date.”

  “Oh that. Yeah. She feels guilty for taking me from my work. I just hope I can do what she needs….” She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe I could get your opinion on something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Janie’s being sued by a disgruntled client. It’s ridiculous, really. Janie refused to match him with a blond set of breasts on legs.”

  “And the guy’s not exactly Adonis?”

  “Exactly. Fifty-nine, comb-over, major paunch. His name’s Marlon Brandon. Can you believe that? Not Brando, as Janie keeps pointing out. Maybe the confusion gives him illusions of grandeur. Janie, bless her heart, insists on finding him a suitable match. So, even though Mr. Brandon would be delighted with a bimbo gold digger, Janie won’t arrange it, and now he’s claiming fraud and misrepresentation.”

  “Sounds frivolous to me.”

  “No kidding. We’ve been trying to get him to meet with us to work out a settlement, but he’s stalling, so I’m afraid we need legal help. Is there some mediation service we should try?”

  “That works if both sides are willing to compromise. Maybe I can help. Do some research, meet with the guy’s attorney?”

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Cole. I just wanted your advice.”

  “I want to help. Really.”

  “But you’re busy. We’ll be fine.”

  “I can fit in a couple of meetings.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I won’t do more than I can afford to.”

  She studied him, assessing his intent, hope and relief flickering in her eyes.

  “If you say no, I’ll just talk to Janie.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She put the food tray on the bathroom floor and threw her body across his for a hug, her breasts warm and heavy on his chest. She looked up at him. “I insist we pay you.”