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Friendly Persuasion
Dawn Atkins
Kara Collier just can't separate sex and serious relationships.What she needs is a lesson in the pleasures of sex without promises of forever. And who better to teach her than her commitment-shy - and hot - best friend, Ross Gabriel. Problem is, they know too much about each other to actually hit the sheets. Until the night he shows up dressed like a stranger, that is.Soon Kara's enjoying the hottest sex she's ever had…without a single thought of "I do!" What started out as a favor for his best friend has suddenly become something much more. Ross doesn't want to admit his feelings for Kara, though - it might mean changing his freedom-loving ways.But when other guys start showing an interest in Kara, Ross can't hide his thoughts anymore. Now he has to persuade Kara that this seductive friendship can go the distance and that his feelings are very real….




“May I join you, señorita?”
An accented voice whispered close to Kara’s ear.
She glanced at the man, then did a double take. “Ross? What are you doing—?”
“I do not know this Ross person. My name is Miguel. I am a stranger here in your city and I am, sadly, alone.”
“You’re what?” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ross had smoothed back his hair, bought a stylish suit and now was pretending not to know her. He looked so hot, so sexy, and he wasn’t teasing.
“How is it that a woman so beautiful is alone on such a night as this?”
“I was waiting,” she said, then paused for effect. “For you.”
She almost laughed at the B-movie line, but then Ross—Miguel—looked into her eyes and said, “I’m so happy.”
At that, she did the most amazing thing. She took him by the lapels, pulled him close and planted her lips on him. He made a sound low in his throat and kissed her back, a hot, steamy kiss.
She broke off the kiss and gasped, “Is there somewhere we could go?”



Dear Reader,
Falling in love too fast—that’s Kara’s trouble, along with thinking that sex equals love. What better way to overcome the problem than having sex with an incredible lover she couldn’t possibly fall in love with? Her best male friend, Ross Gabriel, fits the bill perfectly. He’s the opposite of the steady, responsible, appropriate man she knows she’ll eventually settle down with. With Ross, she’ll learn to enjoy sex without complicating it with all that love stuff, right?
Wrong. The heart doesn’t care about steady and responsible and appropriate. The heart just chooses. And Kara’s heart chooses Ross. It takes the rest of her a while to catch up….
This was my first Harlequin Blaze novel, and I had fun describing the sexy games Ross and Kara played. I loved seeing her explore and take charge of her erotic nature, with Ross’s eager help.
And Ross…whew, what a honey—a dream lover—imaginative and energetic and sensitive. This poor boy took a while to realize this was the best sex of his life not because of the fantasies but because he was in love. Duh. The man was so dedicated to having fun, he was afraid to notice he’d outgrown his old life until Kara pointed it out to him.
I hope you find Ross and Kara’s story as fun and sexy and tender as it seemed to me.
All my best,
Dawn Atkins

Friendly Persuasion
Dawn Atkins


For my husband, David…
my own perfect stranger and best friend

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

1
“JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE SLEEPING with a guy doesn’t mean you have to pick out china patterns,” Kara’s best friend said, pointing her nearly drained Fuzzy Navel in Kara’s direction. “Stop channeling your mother. Sex does not equal love.”
Kara Collier sighed at the lecture. “I can’t help it. I’m a serious person. I want a serious relationship.” She downed the last dollop of her frozen prickly-pear margarita and licked the rim of the glass—salty as tears.
“You always rush things,” Tina continued. “You did the same thing with Brian. And a year ago it was Paul. What happened this time with Scott?”
“I just asked him if he’d like a drawer—for convenience, you know, to keep a change of clothes when he stays over—and he accused me of trying to smother him.”
“Affection-miser,” Tina declared. “I was afraid of that.”
“Not another Cosmo quiz.”
“Experts write those surveys.”
“Did you really think Scott and I wouldn’t have worked out?” Kara asked, filled with gloom.
Tina nodded. “Sorry. I might have been wrong. Sometimes I am.”
“I didn’t see it. Once I sleep with a guy everything changes. My mind starts running with plans and dreams. Maybe I should just stay away from men.”
“Celibacy’s a possibility, I guess,” Tina said, her expression doubtful. She tipped her glass to collect a mouthful of ice. Kara braced for the crunching. What did they say about ice crunchers being sexually repressed? That couldn’t be the reason in Tina’s case. She was the most sexually liberated woman Kara knew.
“The only problem,” Kara said, “is that after a while without a man I get kind of—” she squirmed in her seat and leaned closer to finish “—itchy. You know?”
“You mean horny, Kara. Just say it. Horny.”
“That’s such a crude word.”
“Crude but accurate.” Tina shrugged, her spaghetti strap sagging over her pretty shoulder. Tina wore her dark hair curved close to her face. She had petite features and a bow of a mouth—Betty Boop with a smart-ass answer for everything.
“Can I get you ladies something?” Tom, their favorite bartender at the Upside, shot them his darling half smile—Mona Lisa if she’d been a man.
“Yes, you can, Tom,” Tina said. “You can get my friend here a new attitude about sex.”
Kara’s face heated. “Tina,” she warned, knowing it was pointless to try to get Tina to hold back.
“Not my specialty,” Tom said. “I can, however, get you another prickly-pear margarita and a Fuzzy Navel, double ice.” Tom always remembered what they were drinking, even though they made a point of trying different things during their weekly wind-down happy hour. They went Tuesdays or Fridays, depending on how hectic things were at work. Today was Tuesday.
“Not his specialty, my ass,” Tina muttered. “That man has sex god written all over him…from that gorgeous head of hair to those size-twelve feet. And you know what they say about the size of a man’s feet.”
“Everything isn’t about size, Tina. Or sex.”
“Prove it,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “Where’s Ross? I want to ask him about the Emerson campaign.”
“He was finishing the sketches for the beer company pitch.” Ross was a graphic artist who worked as an art director at Siegel and Sampson Marketing, the ad agency where Kara was an account manager and Tina a copywriter. He joined them for a drink most Upside nights and was due any minute. He was also Kara’s best male friend.
“You should take lessons from Ross and me and have sex for sex’s sake,” Tina continued, “instead of wearing your heart on your parts.”
“You have such a way with words,” Kara said. “And that’s not fair. I try to take it slow, but when the guy seems right, I can’t help but think ahead. I don’t want to invest emotional energy in something that’s going nowhere.”
Kara lived by her goals—in every aspect of her life. Added to that was her parents’ divorce when she was sixteen. She’d concluded her mother had married the wrong man and the lesson seemed clear—choose men with care…and with your future in mind.
“You’re either picking the wrong men or rushing the right ones,” Tina concluded, her eyes on Tom, who was bending to get something from a low shelf. “What a great butt,” she mused wistfully. “The quiet ones are deep, you know. And Tom’s so alert. Think of all that attention in bed. Mmm-mmm-mmm.” She drummed her highly decorated nails on the bar.
“Could we focus on my problem here?” Kara said.
“Oh, right.” Tina shook herself, then turned her big eyes on Kara, crossing her curvy legs with a quick movement. “Sorry. Talking about sex gets me thinking about sex. Like looking in a bakery window discussing the éclairs. You gotta have one.”
“I may choose the wrong men,” Kara said, “but at least I choose. Don’t you ever want to settle down?”
“Someday, maybe. Maybe not. I see no point in gluing myself to a guy. When he rips away, you’re a blob of jelly at his feet. I’m not doing that.”
“Why are you so sure he’ll rip away?”
“Because that’s how it works. I tried clinging once. In high school I fell hard and it was a disaster.”
“High school is Hurt Central.”
“It’s a proving ground. Lessons for life.” Tina frowned. The topic seemed to bother her. “But that’s me. Let’s get back to you.” Tina tapped her lip. “Okay. Without a man, you get horny, right? Then handle your horniness. Buy a vibrator. When you itch, you scratch. Simple.”
Kara shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way with me. I need another person for my, um, equipment, to work. I never know where the guy’s going to touch me next, so it’s always a surprise. When it’s just me, it’s boring.”
“You’re missing out on a good time,” Tina said. “It’s the electronics age, baby.” She pretended to smoke a cigar and wiggle her brows à la Groucho Marx. “At least check out that naughty lingerie store by the doughnut shop.”
“I don’t think a gadget’s the answer.”
“So maybe it’s lack of experience. How many men have you slept with, anyway?”
“Not that many,” she admitted. There’d been two relationships in college, and in the eight years since, just four men, including the three Tina had mentioned. Kara had dated other men, but not long enough for sex to happen…and complicate things.
She’d chosen stable men with relationship potential, but somehow they weren’t quite ready or they had commitment issues or mother issues or just plain issues. “I tried to go slow—I waited six months this time—but I just got too…”
“Itchy?”
“Yeah. And Scott was there and he seemed so perfect.” He was the attorney for one of their clients.
“He only seemed perfect. You were itchy when you met him. That’s like going to a grocery store when you’re hungry. You bring home all kinds of nasty things you’d normally never look at twice.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Kara said. “So what should I do about it?”
“Change your thinking,” Tina said. “Having sex simply means two people care enough about each other to share physical pleasure. Period. Sex is a healthy release, not an engagement party.”
Tina made sense. Kara wanted to be sexually liberated, but in her heart of hearts, she was a traditionalist. You got close to someone, had sex, fell in love and got married—or at least moved in together—in quick order. “But I want it to be more than that.”
“When you’re ready, it can mean happily ever after, I guess. But you’re not ready, Kara. You just think you should be. Do you even miss Scott?”
“Not exactly.” Especially not sexually. He liked things in a certain order and almost timed—five minutes of kissing, five minutes of breast and penis work, two minutes of thrusting, then bingo. She wasn’t exactly a tigress in bed and she preferred the man to take the lead, but she’d tried different things—climbing on top, doing a little striptease—and Scott seemed more annoyed than titillated, so she figured she wasn’t doing it right. She wasn’t that experienced in the variety department…and, okay, maybe a little inhibited.
Tina looked past Kara’s shoulder. “Here comes Tom with our drinks. I think he and I, rubbed together, would make nice sparks. Let me show you how it’s done.”
Tom set their drinks on napkins and smoothly slid them forward. “Need anything else?”
“Funny you should ask,” Tina said, leaning forward, deepening her cleavage. “I was wondering what you do after work. For fun, I mean.”
“Usually I go home and go to bed.”
“Sounds interesting. Alone?”
He gave her that mysterious smile. Kara could see his appeal. He was clean-cut and gently handsome with a broad, solid frame.
“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Tina said.
He shrugged. “If you mean what do I do on my days off, I like quiet things.”
“Me, too,” Tina said, which was a lie, Kara knew.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, what quiet things are we talking about?” Tina stirred her drink very slowly, her eyes glued to Tom.
“For me, it’s sailing. I have a small boat I take to the lake.”
“Sounds nice. Water and waves and rocking.” She lifted a straw full of drink and let it slide into the side of her mouth, a gesture just this side of suggestive. “I always wanted to learn to sail.”
He shook his head. “Your nails are too nice.” He patted her hand, then moved away, leaving Tina open-mouthed, her straw poised in midair.
“So that’s how it’s done, huh?” Kara teased.
“He blew me off.” She sounded more mystified than wounded. “I swear there were definite vibes.”
They watched Tom pour bourbon into a glass for someone at the other end of the bar, completely ignoring them.
“Maybe I’m not his type,” Tina continued. “Maybe he goes for blond bombshells with exotic eyes like you.”
“Please.” Tina had convinced Kara to ditch her glasses for contacts because her uptilted eyes were “unique.” Kara knew her figure was decent, but she was far from a bombshell, and she had to watch what she ate to keep her hips under control. As for her hair, it was blond, but so unmanageable she often pulled it back into a ponytail or a twist in the librarian look Tina never failed to malign.
“Why don’t you go for it?” Tina urged.
“Because he’s not my type. We’d have nothing in common.”
“That’s the whole point. You need to sleep with someone you can’t possibly fall in love with. Someone sexy as hell but all wrong for you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. If not Tom—and I have first dibs on him—someone like… I don’t know. Let me see.” She looked around the bar, which held a number of attractive men, since it was a popular singles watering hole. “These guys are all business types. You need somebody less responsible, more of a bad boy. Someone like…”
The bar door opened and, as if on cue, Ross Gabriel walked in.
“Ross!” Tina declared. “He’d be perfect!”
“Ross? He’s my friend. My good friend.” Kara loved nothing better than to hang out in the art department exchanging cheap shots and jokes with Ross. They were known to finish each other’s sentences. She couldn’t have sex with him.
He was cute, though, she noted, watching him swagger in, blinking at the sudden dimness. Kara had been instantly attracted to him when she’d started work at S&S, until she discovered he was just an overgrown boy—Peter Pan with a sex life. He was her age—twenty-nine—but he lived in a funky apartment in a dangerous part of town, his only transportation an ancient motorcycle and a battered bike. He considered a kegger in the desert to be high entertainment, and, despite talent, intelligence and a terrific way with clients, he was perfectly content to remain an art director at S&S, designing ads, not overseeing anything or anyone, until they closed shop.
But it was more than his lifestyle. He was a babe magnet. And Kara was too ordinary to be considered a babe. Ross would never say that, but she’d read it in his face and that took care of any desire to flirt she’d had.
Right now, he’d barely gotten inside the bar and was already talking to a woman. He had an easygoing, bad-boy-who-brings-his-mom-flowers way about him that women warmed to. He made you feel really seen, and he was an excellent listener. It was a routine, probably, since Ross looked after Ross and never went far beneath the surface, but the blonde on the bar stool was interested, Kara could see by her open body language.
“So what if he’s a friend?” Tina asked. “He’s hot. He’s experienced. And you could never fall in love with him.”
“You got that right,” she said, watching the woman write something—her number, no doubt—and hand the paper to Ross, with an extra touch of his sleeve. How did he do it? He was indifferent about fashion and tended not to comb his dark, longish hair, though he always managed to look arty. On him, stubble looked charming.
Could she sleep with him? The idea gave her a sharp charge. This is Ross, she reminded herself. The brother she’d longed for as an only child. He was like Tina, but better in some ways. Tina told her what to do; Ross mostly listened. He gave her the male perspective on her breakups, until she ended up laughingly philosophical instead of morose.
He was also the guy who’d held her forehead in the S&S bathroom when she’d gotten sick on fish tacos, then driven her home and watched over her all night. Of course, he’d kept her awake with Three Stooges movies at top volume and consumed all her imported beer and impress-your-date pâté, but it was the thought that counted.
Meanwhile, Ross had caught sight of them and was headed their way with his great affable smile, which faded as he got closer. “What’d I do?” he asked, and Kara realized she and Tina had stared at him during his entire approach. “Is my fly down?” He checked his zipper.
“You’re fine,” Tina said. “We were just noticing how cute you are.”
Kara jabbed her in the ribs. Don’t you dare.
“Uh-uh. No way,” Ross said. “You can kiss up to me all night, but I’m not doing that Emerson project, not even with overtime. I save my nights for romance.” He waggled his brow.
“You are so lazy,” Tina said. “If you’d show a little initiative you could manage the whole art department.”
“All that responsibility, with a mortgage and an ulcer to match? No thanks. I want my options open. Who knows when I might decide to hike the Andes?”
“Think about it. I’m taking off,” Tina said, sliding down from the stool. “We can talk about Emerson Faucets and Stoppers tomorrow. I’ll let you two make your plans.” She winked at Kara.
“Tina,” Kara said between gritted teeth, but her friend had wiggled off on her impossibly high heels and ultratight skirt.
“What plans are we making?” Ross asked Kara.
“Nothing,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I noticed you’re in trolling mode.”
He feigned innocence. “You mean Lisa?” He tilted his head toward the blonde at the end of the bar. “Don’t give me that ‘Ross has hooked himself another bimbo’ look. She’s an accountant with Smith Barney.”
“I’m pleased to see you’ve raised your standards.” Ross tended to share his conquests with her—blow-by-blow once he’d had a couple beers—and the last few women he’d dated had needed Cliffs Notes for their driver’s tests.
“You know too much. Now I’ll have to kill you,” he said, pretending to go for her throat.
“What can I get you?” Tom said, interrupting Kara’s strangulation.
“Just practicing for the next agency meeting,” Ross explained to Tom.
“Looks like you need a beer with some guts,” Tom mused. “How about a black and tan?”
“Exactamundo.”
“Your friend left?” Tom asked Kara. “Tina?”
“She wanted to get home.”
“I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings. I just didn’t expect her to do that. Hit on me.” He sounded surprisingly shy.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” she said. Kara didn’t dare explain that Tina had him in mind for a demonstration of meaningless sex, but she added, “She thinks you’re quite attractive.”
“Really?” He quickly frowned out his eagerness. “She’s just lonely.” He left to get Ross’s drink.
“What was that about?” Ross asked.
“Tina was flirting with Tom.”
“He doesn’t seem her type—too humble and lovable.”
“I guess that makes him a challenge.”
“And God knows our Tina loves a challenge. So, where was I? Oh, yes.” He put his hands loosely around her neck again.
She noticed how warm and strong his fingers were. She wished Tina hadn’t suggested sleeping with him. She couldn’t get the idea out of her head. “I give,” she said, leaning away from his grip. “I was just keeping you on your toes.”
“If you can’t do something right, don’t do it…in front of Kara.”
“You think I’m uptight?”
Her tone caught him and he searched her face. “What happened? You’re upset. Didn’t Miller like the presentation? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”
Ross liked to present the creative concepts to clients. Kara preferred to have him at those meetings—his energy was infectious and he inspired confidence.
“No, he was pleased. You were right that he’d like the ads in that order. And he worshiped your print ad with the dancing beagles.”
“Worshiped? The only thing Miller worships is his bottom line. You’re my biggest fan at the salt mines.”
“No. Tina’s right. You’re very talented. I heard Lancer is heading to L.A., which means the creative department manager spot will open up. You should apply.”
“Stop shoving me up the ladder of success. I’m happy hanging here on this bottom rung, thank you.” He paused and looked at her closely. “So if it’s not the Miller thing, what is it? Your eyes are sad.”
“It’s just…Scott broke up with me.”
“Damn. You want me to beat him up?” He took a boxing posture and jabbed, his biceps swelling nicely under his black T-shirt. The shirt looked great with the peace sign on a collar-length leather strap around his neck.
“No need. He was very considerate about it.”
“Figures,” he said, dropping the pose. “You go for those Fortune 500 types, who consider a snappy game of squash to be a test of their manhood. I know how to fix him—restring his squash racquet with low-test catgut. That’ll destroy him.”
“Scott’s a good guy. And since when have you been so Neanderthal?”
“Good point. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
A lover. She felt that charge again. Looking at him made her feel even worse. The stud in one ear complemented his smart-ass half grin, faint stubble and tousled hair, black as his shirt.
“Anyway, he can’t be that good if he was bad to you.” He squeezed her upper arm.
Great hands. She felt a tickle between her legs. “You’re sweet.”
“It’s just an act.” He winked at her.
But it wasn’t. Not when it came to her, she knew. They looked out for each other.
“You’re too good for those jokers,” he said. “Too smart. When you flash your intellect, their little willies just shrivel up.”
“Oh, please.” But she felt better all the same. Because he was a man, she guessed, with a man’s view. And he was a friend, which made him safe—and absolutely not a viable sex object.
Ross accepted the mug of two-toned ale from Tom, saluted Kara with it, then took a drink. She watched his Adam’s apple go up and down, noticing how his neck muscles slid. He was in great shape for someone too lazy to go to the gym. He must do something athletic despite his claims to the contrary. It couldn’t just be sex, could it?
“So what happened?” He licked the foam off his upper lip in a way that made her insides clutch. “Not too many gory details, though. Nothing about how big he is, or any of that. I might be intimidated.”
“Oh, stop it. Women don’t care about size. It’s only men who always want to whip it out and compare. It’s not the boat, it’s the ocean, or the motion, or whatever the hell that saying is.”
He chuckled, low and sexy, and leaned forward. “Pretty lusty talk for the mistress of sedate. What’s up? Did he make you feel unattractive? Because you’re hot. Never forget that.”
She blushed. “No. It just didn’t work out.” She watched, transfixed, as he slid his fingers along the mug’s surface. He had long artist fingers. Fingers that knew what they were doing everywhere they went.
“Come on. Give me the scoop. I tell you about all my women.”
“Like I have to pry those stories out of you. You can’t wait to spill. I can’t believe you broke up with that woman—Heather, wasn’t it?—because she sounded like Minnie Mouse when she climaxed.”
“It was more than that. She didn’t like Otis Redding.”
“Now that’s unforgivable.”
“Come on. Tell me,” he said, his voice so kind and full of affection her throat tightened.
So she told him about the drawer and the smothering, and Ross frowned and studied her face, made that “mmm-hmm” sound like a doctor with a troubling diagnosis, and finally said, “You were wasting yourself on him.”
She smiled. “You always make me feel better.”
“My pleasure.” He patted her hand, the gesture soothing as a hot bath.
“Tina thinks my problem is that I get too serious too fast,” she continued. “From lack of, um, experience.” She blushed. Here she was revealing how sexually limited she was to a man who’d provided fireworks for dozens of women.
“With sex, the issue is quality, not quantity… Take it from someone with the Gold Seal of Approval.” He winked, teasing.
“Lord, you’re arrogant. So, you’re saying I’m picking bad lovers?”
He shrugged. “Could be the Teeny Peenie Syndrome.”
“Enough with the penis stuff, Ross.”
“I mean that figuratively. Feelings of inadequacy. Ask any shrink.”
“Oh, you,” she said, pushing his arm—more muscular than it looked, she noticed. Things about Ross tended to sneak up on you. He acted more casual about work than he was, for example. She’d seen the satisfaction on his face when a client loved his work, and he listened hard for the bottom-line results of their campaigns.
He had delicious eyes, she noticed—a liquid gold-green, with sexy crinkles at the edges. “Anyway, Tina thinks I need to learn to have sex for the sake of sex, so I don’t get hung up on the wrong guy because I think I have to fall in love with him to sleep with him.”
“Makes sense, I guess, in Tina’s world view. She’s a girl after my own heart.”
“How come you never slept with her, anyway?”
“Who says I haven’t?” He winked. “Nah. We’re friends. Sex is sex and friends are friends.”
Now they were getting closer to the delicate subject she couldn’t stop thinking about. “Could you ever, um, have sex with a friend?”
“Depends on the friend.” He picked up his mug and began a long, slow drink.
“How about me?”
Ross choked on his beer, set it down hard. “You’re kidding, right?” He laughed.
“It was Tina’s idea,” she said, wounded that he found it so hilarious. “She thought I should sleep with someone completely unsuitable, and of course you were the first person we thought of.”
“Ouch,” he said, wincing in pretend pain. “That’s not very nice.” He studied her, then seemed to sense her hurt. “It would be weird. We’re friends.”
“I know,” she said. “I feel the same way.” Except for the electric jolts she’d been getting since he sat down.
Being around Ross was so much fun, it made up for any bruise to her feminine ego his treating her like a buddy had given her. She loved watching a new idea hit him—like a pinball striking every bell and bar, making him light up and zing. And whenever she got upset about a client, she went straight to him and he’d have her blowing off steam playing darts or Nerf basketball or running up and down the fire escape singing Queen songs.
“I wouldn’t want to mess up our friendship,” Ross said.
“Right. And sex messes things up.”
“Not always,” he said. “It can be absolutely simple and carnal.” He gave her that look.
She faltered. “But we’d make a terrible couple. We’re opposites.”
“They say opposites attract.” Was he just teasing? “But there’s sexual incompatibility to consider, of course.”
“Wait a minute. Am I being insulted here?”
“Not at all.” He grinned. “You’re fine. We’re just different. You’re sort of buttoned up and pressed down. And I’m, well, never buttoned.”
“That’s because you’re always in a T-shirt. And I’m not always buttoned up.”
“Oh, yeah?” He gave her a mischievous look. “Twenty bucks says you’re wearing granny panties.”
To her chagrin, she remembered she did indeed have on her stretched-out elastic, full-size cotton undies today. “That’s not fair. All my fancy ones happen to be in the laundry right now.”
“My point exactly. My women don’t wear panties—fancy or otherwise.”
The thought of Ross contemplating her decidedly unsexy underwear mortified her, so she teased back. “Besides, I would never sleep with someone with so many notches on his headboard it probably looks like a saw blade.”
“Oh, no. The notches are from the handcuffs.”
She blushed again. Ross was definitely out of her sexual league, but he’d aroused her competitive instincts. Along with some others she’d rather not name. “Maybe you’ve underestimated me. I might be a maniac in bed. You never know about the librarian types.” Was she trying to talk him into this?
“I wouldn’t want to risk breaking your heart,” he teased.
“Get over yourself. I fall in love with likely prospects. And you’re the least likely prospect I know.”
“But I may have unplumbed depths.”
“That’s not the kind of plumbing I’m interested in, baby,” she said, affecting a sexy tone that came off stiffly.
“You’re trying too hard.”
She sighed. She hated that she wasn’t free and easy about sex.
“You always try too hard. That’s why I’m good for you. I help you ease up on yourself—and everybody else.”
“Well, you don’t try hard enough,” she argued. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have—”
“Lost my job through tardiness alone, I know. We’re good for each other.” He saluted her with his ale.
“Yeah.”
“Just not sexually.”
“Right.” Another twinge of disappointment. “Besides, there’s no way I could do it,” she said. “Kissing you would be like, I don’t know, kissing…my brother.”
“You think so?” he said and then, with no warning whatsoever, he leaned forward and kissed her.
A jolt shot straight to her toes and back again, making everything in between tingle. Oh…my…God. She started to tremble and was afraid she might faint.
Ross broke off the kiss. “I know for a fact you don’t have a brother, but if you did, would he kiss like that?”
“I—I’m not sure.” Their eyes locked.
Then Ross smacked his lips. “Mmm, strawberry lip gloss.”
That killed the mood. To Ross, that had been just a kiss.
“Decent technique,” she said, covering for how overwhelmed she felt.
“Decent?” He lifted a brow. “Give me another chance. Maybe I was nervous.” He leaned in, beckoning with a crooked finger.
She shook her head. “You made your point.” Even as she said no, her entire body wailed for more. “The main thing is that we’re friends and we have to protect that. I’ll find some other unsuitable man to not fall in love with.”
He looked at her, his eyes full of wicked mischief. If anyone could teach her how to have fun with sex, Ross could.
Uh-uh. No matter what Ross said, sex made things complicated. Ross was her friend and that was better than sex any day—even sex with him. Besides, if one kiss could turn her into a quivery mass of need, just think what the whole experience would do. She might never be the same.

2
ROSS HAD ANOTHER black and tan after Kara left, but it didn’t wash away the strawberry kiss that had coated his mouth and lips with sweet promise. He tasted it all the way back to his apartment.
She’d actually quivered when he’d kissed her. Quivered. What responsiveness. Those crisp designer suits were wrapped around one sensuous woman.
He’d had thoughts about Kara when she’d first marched her serious little butt in the door at S&S, but she’d been so intent and dogged—and repressed—that he didn’t pursue her. Before long he’d gotten to know her and found her warm and open and funny and smart and they’d become friends. And friendship was a way bigger deal than sex.
He’d seen she was the type who put her heart on the line. And he’d never allow himself to hurt her. He couldn’t put pain in those eager, vulnerable eyes.
But Tina thought he could teach Kara how to separate lust from love…. Interesting. Could he? When he thought about that strawberry kiss, it seemed worth a try. On a purely physical level. Simple sex might be just what Kara needed. Could she keep it simple, though? Seemed unlikely. She was an intense woman. He, on the other hand, had simple sex down to a science.
Ever since college. Ever since Beth. That was when he’d learned it wasn’t a good idea to get attached. People changed. Or, more importantly, he changed. Beth had wanted someone stable and dependable. He’d tried to be that—taking the job her dad had lined up for him at a big graphics studio. But the work had been mere production—the replication of someone else’s creativity. He hated the daily routine, the repetitiveness, the tedium. He’d felt trapped. Then he’d started to get bored with Beth. He’d fought it, tried to hide it, but eventually all he saw was her anxious face, pale as pearlescent ink. What’s wrong, Ross? Is it me? What am I doing wrong?
It’s not you, it’s me. It’s me, really. A tired excuse, but, in his case, so true. He was a restless guy. He’d been young at the time and didn’t know himself well. Now he knew to stay away from women whose hearts he could break. Serious women looking for The One. Women like Kara.
His tongue found more strawberry at the roof of his mouth. Mmm. Some sack time with Kara would be amazing. She sounded like she was really interested in exploring sex with someone. Why couldn’t that someone be him? He knew her and cared about her. Some other guy might take advantage of her good nature. Could he make it safe for her? Show her how to keep sex in perspective? That was the only way it would work…if she could handle it.
He loped up the steps to his apartment, trying to remember whether or not he should avoid Lionel and Lucy, his landlords, who lived just below him. It wasn’t that he didn’t set aside the rent money, but he sometimes forgot when exactly it was due or where he’d hidden it so he wouldn’t spend it.
He’d paid, he remembered. Early, too, and thrown in a little extra for next month, since Lionel had been worrying about affording his daughter’s gymnastics day camp. Rental income tanked in the summer. Confident he was in his landlord’s good graces, Ross paused to wave through the window at Lucy.
He unlocked his door and took in the chaos with a grin. He could pick up a little, but he was more interested in working on that guitar riff he’d learned from a guy at a blues bar the night before.
Even as he tuned up, he found he was still thinking about Kara and that kiss. She’d pretended it had been nothing more than a peck, but there was fire there. Possibly total combustion.
She’d seemed certain she couldn’t fall in love with him. That was a good sign. And probably true. They were so different. She drove him nuts at work with her checklists and protocols. Of course, that was her job. Account execs stayed on top of the details, herded everyone and schmoozed the clients. The artist’s job was to be creative. At work, Kara and he were in perfect sync, but in a relationship there would be war.
He started with an easy chord progression. She’d looked so down about Scott. Why she picked those lame-asses he’d never know. He’d like to help her if he could—give her the confidence she needed to not lock on to the next corporate clone who caught on to how great she was.
She was always helping him, covering for him when he overslept, giving him pep talks when his mind seemed to have squeezed out its last creative juice. He liked to look after her, too—calm her down when she got herself wound too tight.
He moved into the licks the guitarist had shown him over one too many brewskis. If they set up some ground rules maybe… Ground rules? Lord, he sounded like Kara.
But she was going to do this, one way or the other. He recognized that determined Kara look. He couldn’t stand watching her get hurt by another jerk. And he knew what to watch out for with her…and if they had no expectations beyond the sex…they could have a damn fine time together.
The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. With ground rules in place, and good intentions all around, what was the worst that could happen?

“I CAN’T DO IT,” Kara said to Tina the minute Tina came into the office kitchen for coffee Wednesday morning. Kara had already been at work for an hour. She sipped her decaf Lemon Alert tea, but she was so preoccupied it seemed tasteless.
“Hold that thought,” Tina said, raising a hand to stop Kara’s words. Tina claimed she couldn’t think until she’d downed some caffeine and she didn’t see in color until ten o’clock.
Kara waited while Tina took two fast swallows. “Better,” she announced. “Now, what is it you can’t do?”
Kara made sure no one was heading into the kitchen, then she whispered, “Have sex with Ross.” In fact, she dreaded their noon spades game. The idea of gazing at him over her usually wretched hand made her break out in a sweat.
“Why not?” Tina asked.
“It’s complicated.” She’d lain awake half the night contemplating the idea, but every time she got around to reliving that kiss she freaked out. “Something happened…we kissed….”
“No!” Tina’s grin filled her face. “Dish, girl. How was it?”
“Intense.”
“Perfect! Hot sex, good times, no hassles. Just what you need.”
“No. It feels risky.”
“Risky? You couldn’t fall in love with Ross. Talk about the odd couple. You two would make Oscar and Felix look like the Bobbsey Twins…no, wait, were the Bobbsey Twins both girls? You know what I mean. It’s too early for similes.” She opened the refrigerator and began looking around, searching out leftover pastries from a client meeting, no doubt.
“I’m worried about our friendship,” Kara said. “We could end up acting strange around each other.”
Tina pulled out a bear claw and took a bite. “Mmm, this one isn’t even stale.”
“And what if I did fall for him, as insane as that is? It just feels too wrong.”
“I’d say it feels too right. You’re such a puritan about pleasure. Why can’t you just relax and have a good time?”
Why couldn’t she?
“Ross would never let you get serious.”
“True.”
“Anyway, if you’re ready for lesson number two in how to have sex for sex’s sake, I’m taking another crack at Tom tonight. I figure he’s got some rule against dating customers, so I’m doing a damsel-in-car-trouble after hours. Watch and learn.”
“Past my bedtime. You can give me the play-by-play tomorrow.” Kara paused, remembering what Tom had said about Tina being lonely. “Are you sure Tom’s the kind of guy you want? He seems like a pretty serious guy.”
“Not when I get through with him,” she said, but she didn’t sound as certain as usual. Maybe Tina was lonely, like Tom said. Her manhunter attitude did seem forced at times. Kara had assumed she’d just been seeing Tina through her own filters, but if even Tom had noticed…
“Just be careful, Tina. I don’t want you to get…” She started to say hurt, but Tina would hate that, so she said, “too involved with a guy who might get hooked on you.”
“I’ll be fine. So will he, believe me,” she said with her characteristic confidence.
Two hours later, Kara returned to the kitchen for her usual midmorning snack—fat-free yogurt, a hard-boiled egg and five carrot sticks—the only variation being the addition of celery, when she felt festive. She opened the refrigerator and bent to get her bag from its place, thinking that her life was as predictable as her snacks, when something utterly new happened—a warm hand stroked her butt.
She yelped, bumped her head on the bottom of the ice compartment, then turned to see Ross standing too close, wearing that appraising look she’d seen him give potential female conquests. A shiver ran through her, but she masked it by rubbing the bump on her head. “Was I in your way?”
“I thought you had a little something on your skirt—dust, maybe,” he said, his wicked expression contradicting his innocent words. He reached past her to close the refrigerator behind her. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” he said, standing too close.
“Oh, that.” She felt herself go red. In the stark light of the office kitchen, the idea seemed ridiculous. “I think that second Fuzzy Navel gave me fuzzy brain.” She tried to laugh.
“Tina had the Fuzzy Navel. You had a prickly-pear margarita.”
“Oh, right. See what I mean?”
“I think I can help you, Kara.”
“You already have. You kept my drink straight. Not to mention my skirt dusted. I’ll be just fine.” In fact, she’d already made a plan. She was going to stop by the naughty lingerie store Tina had recommended for something electronic, then rent a sexy video—a tasteful one. She figured the combination of video and vibrator might be complex enough that she could pretend there was someone else arousing her besides her electricity-aided self. That should cancel her sex-equals-marriage equation, or at least reduce the itch for a while. Hopefully, that would be enough.
If it wasn’t, she’d think about finding someone to experiment with. Someone not Ross.
“You’re chickening out?” Ross said, his eyes teasing. “The kiss was too much for you?”
“Not at all. We’re friends, remember? We don’t want to risk that.”
“Yeah, but maybe being friends makes it better. I know what you’re trying to accomplish, so I can help you better than some strange guy would. We could be careful. We could, say, set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” Her ears perked at that. He’d obviously spent some time thinking about this.
“I knew you’d like the ground rules part.” He grinned. “So come to my apartment tonight and we’ll have some beer and figure out how to make this safe.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. She was chicken. She wasn’t sure she could handle this, and losing Ross’s friendship would be terrible. Not to mention the tension at work. If the gadgets and videos didn’t work, she’d find someone else.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Her stomach shimmied at the look in his eyes. He was probably right. It would be wonderful to put herself in Ross’s hands…so to speak. She liked him, and she knew he cared about her. There wouldn’t be any of that awkwardness of being strangers.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. She was definitely chicken.

AFTER WORK, Kara entered Naughty and Nice and marched purposefully to the devices shelves, head high. She was a sexually active woman who had every right to explore new sensations. She faltered a little, though, when the most tasteful vibrator she could find was in a lurid purple box that screamed self-pleasure toy.
To cover her real purpose, she snatched up a few items on her walk to the register—some party napkins with suggestive jokes, a feather boa, some flavored body paints and a package of what turned out to be edible underwear. She kept her head down and prayed the bored girl behind the counter wouldn’t shout out, Price check on the Heavy Duty G-Spot Pleasure Wand.
The clerk didn’t bat an eye, thank God, and Kara rushed out of the store with her purchases in a plain brown bag, feeling as if she’d dodged a bullet.
Next stop, the video store. Pausing in the self-help section she picked out an instructional video featuring a positive-thinking guru, then slipped behind the purple curtain with the Adults Only sign over it. Ignoring the sideways glances of the men browsing—no, lurking—at the racks, she scanned titles that made her blush to her roots, and finally grabbed a tape with a soft-focused photo and no evident body parts.
Making sure only the motivational tape showed, she clutched the tapes close to her chest, pushed through the purple curtain…and ran smack-dab into Ross. The shock made her drop her sex-shop sack, spilling her brightly colored purchases on the carpet.
She stood there frozen for a second and Ross bent to pick up, then hand the items to her one at a time, examining each one. “Looks like you have a busy evening ahead of you,” he said, giving her the vibrator.
“Never you mind,” she said, shoving it into her bag, blushing furiously.
“And what are you renting?” he asked, snatching the tapes from her fingers. He held them high, out of her reach. “Hmm, Firefighters in Flames and Getting What You Want NOW…with Tony Rockwell,” he said, reading the covers. “I can see the firefighters—all those muscles and that big pole—but I had no idea you had a thing for old guys with bad dye jobs,” he said, handing the tapes back.
“Oh, stop it,” she said. “I’m experimenting, okay?”
“I’m kind of hurt you’re going with paraphernalia when I’m offering my fleshly self.”
“I’m exploring…um…options.”
“Flaming firefighters? Please. You are chicken.”
“Am not.” She was so humiliated she just blurted, “Okay, smart guy. You’re on. Let’s go to your place and see about some rules.” What else could she do? He’d dared her and she had her pride. She’d find out what he had mind, at least.
The minute they got to his place, Ross started rushing through the apartment picking up stuff.
“Don’t fuss on my account,” she said. She’d been to his place numerous times and he’d never batted an eye when she had to push stuff off the couch just to make a place to sit. His frantic cleanup now charmed her.
His furniture consisted of funky items he’d scored at yard sales and nostalgia shops, along with things he bought off friends who needed money. He had a fish tank made from an old-fashioned clear gas pump in one corner and a Roy Rogers lamp-end-table ensemble next to an orange Naugahyde sofa.
Only the art was decent—fabulous, actually. Art photography, original oils and several sculptures. His record albums—he collected vinyls of blues artists and had a mint condition turntable—were in orderly racks. Ross had taste, just no concern.
Cords from three video game controllers were tangled in the middle of the floor and the couch cushions were propped against the cocktail table—backrests for gamers, no doubt. “Mind if I put these back?” she asked, picking up a cushion.
“Be my guest. I’ll get us a couple beers.”
She sat down on the recushioned couch and thought about what she might be doing—having sex with Ross. She shivered.
She did want to learn to separate sex from love, and she’d been attracted to Ross from the day they met. She’d always envied the women who knew him as a sexual partner. Then there was the thrill of knowing he wanted her enough to plan ways to convince her to do it.
But what about their friendship?
Maybe being friends would make it easier, like he said. It would save time, get past all those awkward getting-to-know-you moments….
Was she losing her mind, thinking of sex with Ross as an efficiency measure? Maybe the ground rules would convince her. Or scare her off.
The hand she used to take the beer from Ross shook so badly that he put the bottle on the table, sat beside her and rubbed her cold fingers between his warm ones. “Don’t be nervous, Kara.” He looked into her eyes. His were velvet green with brown lace. Hazel, except sexier. “We’ll take it slow. Nice and slow.”
A shiver crawled up her spine. “How about those ground rules?” she said, extracting her hands to go for the notepad she kept in her purse.
“Let’s just talk, okay?” he said, taking away the pad and pen. “We’re friends, remember? Friends talk to each other.”
“Right.” She took a deep breath and blew it out.
“You’re blotching. You always blotch when you’re nervous.” He studied her a moment longer. “I do know you,” he said on a sigh, and thrust the pad at her. “Go ahead and write. You’ll jitter if you can’t.”
Relieved, she labeled the list Sex with Ross—Ground Rules. “Okay. Number one.” Before Ross could suggest something, she said, “Friendship first.”
“Absolutely,” Ross agreed. “Nothing gets in the way of that.”
She wrote it down. “How can we be sure?” She frowned.
“That’s rule number two,” he said. “The minute either of us feels weird, we quit. No questions asked, no harm, no foul.”
“Maybe that will work.” She wrote it down, then bit her lip.
“Rule number three,” Ross continued. “Stay focused on the goal.”
“Goal? I’ve never heard you use that word,” she said.
“Let’s say I’m motivated,” he said with a suggestive lift of his brow. “The goal is to show you how to have fun with sex.”
“But it can’t just be me. You have to have fun, too.”
“Oh, I’ll have fun. Don’t you worry about that.” He gave her that look again.
She shivered again.
“Next, this can’t interfere with dating other people,” Ross said. When she looked at him quizzically, he shrugged. “There’s a hottie I’m working on at LG Graphics.”
“And who could forget Lisa, the accountant with the high IQ from the Upside? You’re such a hound,” she chided. But then added, “Actually, that’s perfect. If I know you’re seeing other people, I couldn’t possibly get attached.” This just might work. “Number five is we have to be honest,” she said, writing the words BE HONEST in all caps. “No being polite just to please the other person.”
“And if we’re not sexually compatible, we quit. That’s number six, I guess.”
She stopped, her pencil in midair. “You think I’m boring, but I’m really not. The granny panties were only because—”
“Relax.” He chuckled. “I just mean sex is like dancing—sometimes your rhythms don’t match. No biggie.”
“I guess so.” She frowned, worried.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. You’re hot, I’m hot, we’ll be hot together.” He winked. “Oh, and if there’s something you want me to do—sexually—you just say it and I’m there.”
“Okay, but nothing too racy.”
“Nothing you don’t want,” he said, but his eyes said, Or that I can’t talk you into.
She gulped. “I guess. But if it gets too, um, complicated, I can quit, no questions asked, right?”
“Rule number two, remember? No harm, no foul. Any more rules you can think of?”
“You’re positive about rule number one? Friendship first?”
“Absolutely. I couldn’t survive Siegel on the rampage without you keeping me from putting my foot in my mouth. Anything else?”
She pondered, taking a deep swallow of her beer. This was completely new territory for her, so she had no idea what rules she might desperately need at some point. “One more,” she said. “If we need a new rule at any time, we can add it.”
“Oh, God. The Queen of Revision appears. Now this feels like work.”
“Being flexible is a good thing,” she said.
“Mmm, I’ll say. I know a woman who can lift her ankles way up to her—”
“Stop it, you’re scaring me,” she said, slugging him. “I’m no contortionist, so don’t expect anything spectacular.”
“You might surprise yourself,” he said, low and sexy. “We might unleash a tigress.”
A nervous giggle erupted from her. “I’d settle for a sex kitten.”
“Oh, me, too. With sweet little claws that dig in just this side of pain.”
Her insides heated up. “Anyway, I guess that’s it,” she said. “Shall I read them back to you?”
“I got it,” he said, “and you do, too.”
“Okay, then.” She slid her notepad back in her purse. She’d make a copy for both of them later.
Then, there she was, sitting knee to knee with Ross, with nothing to do but look into those hot green eyes and wonder about the woman with her ankles up to her whatever. She grabbed her beer bottle to take a drink and banged it into her teeth. “Ouch.”
“Careful with that thing,” he said, taking the beer from her icy fingers and putting it beside his on the table. He extended his arm along the couch behind her and scooted closer. “All this talk has me in the mood. How about we get started?”
The only light in the room was the golden glow through the stretched rawhide on Ross’s Roy Rogers lamp. Romantic in an adolescent kind of way. And Ross smelled good, she noticed—clean and fresh with a sporty scent. He had such a sensuous smile. And he wanted her. Would she disappoint him? Suddenly she wasn’t ready. “It’s getting late. Maybe we could start fresh on Saturday.”
“No time like the present, Kara,” he said, his eyes raking over her in eager appraisal. “Don’t you always say procrastination is the enemy of progress?”
“Not fair to use my work ethic against me.” He was right, though. If she waited, she’d have Thursday and Friday and all day Saturday to get nervous. She did need to learn how to keep things casual. If not Ross, then who? Someone she’d have to start fresh with. Why not now? “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this thing.”
“You make it sound like a project.”
“No. I don’t mean that. I’m just—”
“Nervous, I know. How about a little atmosphere?” He leaned past her and pushed a button on a remote. The gravelly voice of a seventies singer known affectionately as the Walrus of Love swelled into the room.
“God, you’re using your warm-up move on me,” she said. He’d told her of the magical effect Barry White on auto-play had on women.
“Sorry,” he said. “I go with what works.”
“Try to stay fresh for me,” she said. “In honor of our friendship?”
“Deal.” He leaned in and she braced for a replay of last night’s kiss. Except he went for her neck with a soft, nuzzling motion. Mmm. Women love you to mess with their necks—another tidbit from Ross’s repertoire. It did feel good and her body started a slow melt until she remembered the woman Ross had dated whose leg twitched just like a dog’s when he hit a certain place. Kara burst out laughing.
Ross stopped, frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry. I just remembered Lorraine. Wasn’t she the one with the twitching leg?”
“Yeah, right. Focus, okay?”
“Sure. Sorry.”
“Let’s do something I know you’ll like.” He moved in for a kiss. It started like the Tuesday one, then got better. Everything inside her went soft and melty. She leaned in closer. Ross’s hands slid up to touch her breasts. Sooo good.
Then he started patting her chest. He broke off the kiss. “Is that one of those water bra thingies?”
“What if it is? Come on.” She went for his mouth again.
“You don’t need that fake thing. You have perfectly good breasts.”
“The darts are big on this blouse. I need some padding. Just ignore it.”
“Right,” he said. He shifted her body so she was lying on the sofa and he was half on top of her. Lovely, but she kept thinking this was just the next step in his usual mating ritual.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“Is that a line?”
“Of course not. You are beautiful. Your contacts show off your eyes. Crystal-blue. Nice shape—kinda almond.”
“Thank you.” It was glorious to hear compliments like that from Ross. This situation had tremendous potential.
“Remember the time that guy licked your eyeball and swallowed the lens?” Ross said.
“Yeah,” she said. “Never date a man who still lives with his mother at age thirty. They get strange.”
“Enough talk. We’re losing momentum here,” he said.
“Right.” She pulled him down for a kiss.
“Mmm,” he murmured, “that’s what I’m talking about.”
She felt a momentary thrill, then she noticed a lump behind her head. She reached around and fished out transparent red bikini panties. She held them out. “Either you’ve got some explaining to do about your wardrobe or one of your ladies left a souvenir.”
He shrugged. “Suzee forgot, I guess.”
“How could she forget her underwear?”
“Ah, honey, I get them so hot they forget their own names.”
“Pul-eeze. You may be good, but, trust me, a woman knows where her underwear is at all times. She left this to mark her territory.”
“I don’t know…Suzee’s kind of scatterbrained.”
“I thought you didn’t date bimbos.”
“I don’t as a rule, but she can do the most amazing things with her tongue.”
“Could you stop raving about the sexual skills of other women? I feel like I’m being haunted by the ghosts of lovers past.”
He took the panties from her and tossed them over his shoulder. “Forget other women and their clothes. Let’s get you out of yours.” He slid his fingers under her blouse, but maybe because she was nervous or because he was Ross, his fingers stimulated her tickling reflex. She jerked away, giggling. “I’m ticklish there.”
“Oh, hell,” he said. “How about here?” He pushed his fingers higher.
“That’s okay, but…” She tried to hold it in, but laughter burst out.
“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“You got the tickle thing going. Let me get on top.”
“Somehow I knew you’d want that.”
She ignored the dig and wiggled out from under him, but missed the edge of the sofa and fell to the floor with a squeak, dragging him with her. “Ouch,” she said. “Your elbow’s in my boob.”
“Sorry. How can you feel a thing with that inner tube in there?”
“Cut it out.” She went for his ribs and he laughed and jerked away, so she tickled him in earnest. He returned the favor, and they were soon rolling on the floor laughing and tickling each other.
“This is hopeless,” Kara said, pulling herself to a sit.
“I’ve just begun to fight,” Ross said. He leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he moved his tongue in a way that reminded her of the eyeball licker and she laughed into his mouth.
“You’re giving me a definite case of shrinkage,” he said. “Lucky for me, I know I’m a stud.”
“Lucky for all the women on your speed-dial, you mean.” She grinned at him. He really was sweet and very sexy, with his longish dark hair tousled across his forehead. She touched his face. “This just feels too silly. Thanks for trying, Ross. You’re a good friend.”
He sighed with regret. “Too bad.” He slid his hand across her left breast. “I’d love to get under all that water.” He straightened her collar and patted it. “At least we worked some of the starch out of your blouse.”
“Yeah.”
“The kissing was nice, don’t you think?” He rubbed his thumb over her chin sensuously and with regret.
“Very,” she said. For a second, she wanted to go at it again, but she’d start giggling, no doubt. And it was a relief they wouldn’t be risking their friendship, ground rules notwithstanding. “I’m just going to have to meet somebody new to figure this stuff out. A stranger I could never fall in love with.” Even though it had fizzled, this preliminary trial showed her the potential of this approach. It could change her life for the better. It just wouldn’t work with Ross.
“How do you plan to do that?” Ross was looking at her intently.
“I’ll go to a bar, I guess.”
“Not a biker bar or anyplace rough. Because I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m not crazy,” she said, touched by his protectiveness. “I’ll just find somebody who’s like you. Someone not my type. A ship passing in the night. A musician. Or I could find a business traveler. Or a pilot.”
“Where will you go?” he pressed. “What bar?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the downtown Hyatt. Lots of pilots and flight attendants stay there and there are always business conventions. Don’t worry about me,” she said, shoving at him gently. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”
“Okay, I guess.” He looked her over again. “Don’t settle for just any guy. You really are hot. I hope you don’t have any doubt about that. Ditch the water bra. And make sure to use a condom or see proof of a blood test.”
“Okay, okay, Dad. Thanks for being my friend.”
“Too bad I couldn’t be your stranger.”
“Yeah, too bad.” If she could meet a stranger who kissed like Ross… That would be too perfect to be possible.

3
ROSS SPOTTED Kara right away. She sat at one of the high round tables in the middle of the Hyatt bar, looking very hot in a black dress as tight as a second skin, with a scooped neckline that revealed lots of creamy breast. Her fair skin looked luminous in the dim light.
He ran his fingers through his moussed-back hair. She wanted to sleep with a stranger, so he was giving her one—a South American playboy, to be exact. He’d bought a European-style collarless black silk shirt and a burnt sienna linen suit, borrowed a gold bracelet from a friend, and practiced his Spanish. He’d stopped short of a fake mustache, figuring it would interfere with his kissing and what if it peeled off?
Why was he doing this? For one thing, the thought of her flashing her shy smile at strange men just about killed him. What if she got into trouble? He had to watch out for her.
There was something more, something primitive related to the night before. Holding her—even while she giggled—had reminded him how attracted he’d been when they’d first met, and if she hadn’t burst out laughing, he would have gone for it. Her skin had tasted great—like vanilla and cinnamon and she’d felt delicate but sturdy. He wanted to hear how she sounded when she came, listen to her make those soft, desperate noises of pleasure. Couldn’t wait for them, in fact.
She needed a stranger, so he’d be a stranger. Of course, he could just pick out a nice guy for her, set them up on a date—first threaten the guy’s life if he hurt her, of course—but who better than him to help her out? They’d gone through the ground rules. He knew how to keep it simple and carnal. He just wanted to do it.
He hoped Kara would get into the game right away. He didn’t want to look too closely at his motives.
There she sat, looking nervous as hell, completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He found that delightful. Plenty of men were checking her out, too. A car-salesman-looking guy at the bar had just caught her eye. He looked the guy over. Used cars, for sure.
She smiled tentatively, nervously wagging her crossed leg—spike heels on her feet. Mmm. She sure as hell didn’t have on granny panties tonight. Probably lace—red or black? He hoped it wasn’t a pair of those edible things she’d bought yesterday. Just thinking about Kara’s underwear got him aroused.
The car salesman smiled at her and rose from his seat.
You can do better than him, Kara, Ross thought. Don’t settle. He had to act quickly before she was tempted to take this sleazeball home for a peek at her red lace panties. He rushed forward, tripped, but caught his balance on a table before anyone saw him acting uncool.
The lounge lizard noticed him heading for Kara and sat down, frowning.
Sorry, guy. The best man just won.
“May I join you, señorita?” he asked Kara in his best Spanish accent.
“Excuse me?” Kara glanced at him, then away, then back. “My God. Ross? What are you doing—?”
“Perdóname, señorita. I do not know this Ross person. My name is Miguel. I am from Argentina. I am a stranger here in your city. Business brings me here and I am, sadly, alone.”
“You’re what?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ross had smoothed back his hair, bought a stylish suit and now was pretending not to know her. He wasn’t grinning, so he wasn’t teasing her. He looked absolutely serious, this Miguel.
He was being her stranger, she realized. Bless his heart. He certainly looked different. He’d moussed his hair back, revealing his high, elegant forehead and making his swarthy complexion seem more dramatic. He’d even worn a different cologne, something more musky than usual. Dressed this way, he seemed mature and exotic and devastatingly sexy.
“Please, sit,” she said, patting the stool beside her. She was intrigued that he’d come—and relieved, she had to admit. A creepy guy at the bar had been about to head her way, and her heart had begun to pound. She’d been losing her nerve. Meeting a stranger just for sex seemed too chancy, too awkward. But here was Ross. Thank God.
“Es mi honor,” Miguel said, sliding onto the chair. He leaned close to her. “Can you tell me something?” he asked. His eyes, gleaming in the candlelight, were gorgeous. Together with his dark hair, they made him seem mysterious and a bit dangerous. And he smelled so good.
“Anything,” she said in her sexiest voice. She leaned forward the way Tina always did to emphasize her cleavage. Her nervousness had evaporated, she realized. If Ross could become a stranger, why couldn’t she?
“How is it that a woman so beautiful is alone on such a night as this?”
“I was waiting,” she said, then paused for effect. “For you.” She almost laughed at the B-movie line, but then Ross—Miguel—looked into her eyes, and said, “I am so happy,” and it became the perfect thing to have said. “Shall I buy you something to drink?” he asked.
“I have a better idea.” And then she did the most amazing thing. She took him by the lapels of his expensive jacket and pulled him close and planted her lips on him, even pushed her tongue forward a little. She was shocked at herself, but maybe not really. This exotic stranger was also her dear friend, after all. He was exciting, but safe, too. And his being a different person gave her permission to be different, too.
Ross—Miguel—made a sound low in his throat and kissed her back, even better than last night.
She felt so weak she feared she might slide off the stool and fall to the floor. “Is there somewhere we could go?” she gasped, breaking off the kiss.
“I have a room in the hotel.”
“You’re kidding!” she said.
“Would I joke about a thing like that?” he said in his own voice.
“I guess not,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me. And you bought new clothes, too.” She felt emotions rise in her—tenderness and gratitude and lust. Lots of lust.
“I’m doing this for both of us, señorita,” he said, resuming his role as a Latin lover. “What may I call you?”
“Kar—no, Katherine,” she said, choosing the first elegant name she could come up with. “Take me to your room, please.”
“My pleasure,” Ross-Miguel said, and tucked her snugly against his waist and walked her out of the bar to the glass elevator that led to the guest rooms.
She couldn’t believe she was about to make love with the same man who drank milk out of the carton in the S&S kitchen, wandered around the office barefoot, and collected Superman comic books. Now, he was an urbane cosmopolite looking down at her in a way that told her he knew exactly how to drive her mad with lust and planned on doing so.
He held the elevator door for her, the gold bracelet emphasizing his strong hands. The elevator soared, sending her already-jumpy stomach to her knees. At the seventeenth floor, Miguel held the elevator door for her, then walked her down the hall, holding her so tightly she felt each talented finger dig into her muscles.
Outside his room, he turned her against the door. “I can’t wait another momento para tus…para tus…¿Cómo se dice…?” He frowned, looking for the word for lips, she was certain.
“Labios,” she provided.
“Exactamundo,” he said, butchering the Spanish, but she didn’t care because then he kissed her. Actually it was un gran beso—full of romance and desire and it made her weak with wanting.
Behind her back, he opened the door and they stepped into a room so sumptuous Kara was seized with worry that Ross couldn’t afford it. “I’ll pay half,” she blurted before she realized the effect that might have on the magic of the moment.
“But, Señorita Katherine, I am a wealthy man. My only joy is to spend my money on the people I care about.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Sure. But think about it.”
In answer, he pulled her into his arms and stroked her body through the silk, lifting her dress tantalizingly high on her thighs. “This is beautiful,” he said. “So thin I can feel the texture of your skin.” He cupped her bottom.
“No granny panties,” she murmured.
“I’ll say,” he said, stroking her again, then moving up to the top of her zipper. He was going to strip her and she couldn’t wait.
“And if I’d known I would meet you tonight, I wouldn’t have worn any.”
“Mmm,” he said, slowly lowering her zipper to her waist, his eyes on her the entire time. Cool air teased her back where her dress had opened. Then he pulled the front of her dress down far enough to reveal the black lace teddy she wore underneath. His eyes gleamed with approval.
She hadn’t known whether she’d actually meet a man tonight, let alone sleep with one, but she’d dressed sexy in order to feel sexy. Miguel’s expression told her she’d succeeded.
Miguel pushed her dress the rest of the way down and it whispered into a silky puddle at her spike-heeled feet.
She felt surprisingly calm—not nervous like she’d normally be at a moment like this—or fearful that she looked hippy or she’d be clumsy.
“You are so beautiful, Kara…. I mean Katherine. Do you know how bellísima you are?”
She blushed and smiled.
“Look.” He gently turned her to face the ornate full-length mirror beside a marble end table and stood behind her. “Do you see?”
Embarrassed at first, she glanced at herself in the mirror, caught a flash of black lace, then looked down.
That wasn’t enough for Miguel, who lifted her chin. “Look,” he murmured. “You are lovely.”
So Kara looked Katherine right in the eye. And liked what she saw. The sexy lingerie was perfect on her pale skin. Her blond hair had a sexy tousled look, her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes gleamed wickedly.
She reached up to cup Miguel’s jaw, loving the picture they made. Miguel’s body framed hers, his olive skin, dark brown suit and dark hair a delicious contrast to her fairness.
He reached under her arms to cup her breasts through the black lace, holding them completely, as if to own them. The sight was pure sex. Heat shot from her breasts to her core. She pushed her backside against him, sliding against his erection, glorying in it, feeling wicked and wanton.
Then Miguel slowly teased the teddy straps from her shoulders, his fingertips tickling her skin—an exquisite and shivery sensation. He tugged the flimsy fabric down to her waist, baring her breasts to them both in the mirror. She watched her nipples knot with arousal, feeling the sweet, tight pain of it at the same time.
Ross lifted her breasts lovingly, as if they were fragile as eggshells. His breath hissed and his eyes closed with the pleasure of touching her.
Then she had to touch his skin, to see him naked in the mirror, too. She turned and pushed his jacket from his shoulders and he shook it to the floor. She began to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers trembled and the second buttonhole was tight. The moment stretched.
“Allow me,” Ross said, working on the button himself, smiling confidently at her as he tried to loosen it. Except he couldn’t get it either. “Forget it,” he muttered in Ross’s voice. He crossed his arms, grabbed the shirt hem and yanked it up and over his head.
She ran her fingers across his taut pectorals, then his flat stomach. He groaned and closed his eyes.
“You must get lots of exercise in Argentina on your hacienda,” she murmured.
“Enough, I guess,” he said, sounding shaky with lust. He pushed her teddy down her body until it fell to the floor.
Once she was naked before him, he paused, awe in his expression. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sounding very Ross. He caught himself and resumed in his accent, “You are like art, Señorita Katherine. Perfección.” He ran his hands along the curves of her hips.
She felt so wonderful, so aroused, she didn’t have her usual urge to slip under the covers and keep her partner too busy to look at her very closely. Instead, she reveled in her nakedness and wanted to enjoy his.
“Now you,” she said, and unhooked his buckle and zipper, not surprised to find no underwear behind them. Miguel, like Ross seemed to be a man who would forgo any unnecessary barrier to sensation.
Ross stopped her from pushing his pants to the floor so he could take something out of his pocket—a short strip of condoms. Bless him for his thoughtfulness.
“I’m on the Pill,” she said. “And healthy.”
“I’m good,” he said, returning the condoms to his pocket before he let his pants fall.
“I’m sure you are,” she said, her gaze drawn down his body to his erection. She glanced up at his face.
“For you,” he said. “I am this way for you.”
She grasped him gently.
He groaned, gripping her upper arm, his fingers digging in. “You make me crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.
“You mean loco,” she murmured, sliding her hand along the solid length of him, loving the way he quaked at her touch. “And that’s what I want—to make you crazy in both your languages.” That was a very sexy thing to say, she realized, liking Katherine a lot.
Then Ross released her arms and slid his palms slowly down her arms and across her hips, his touch so light he barely made contact with her skin. He skimmed the surface of her pubic hair, setting the nerve endings there on fire. He was teasing her, and she couldn’t stand it.
“Touch me, please,” she said, pushing herself toward him. His fingers slid in and oh, so lightly brushed her clitoris. Liquid gushed from her and she feared she’d climax before she got to feel him inside her.
As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her off her feet and set her gently on the table beside the mirror, the cool marble a delicious shock to her thighs, and teased her with the tip of his penis.
She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as if this were the most natural position in the world instead of something completely new to her. She tried to pull him into her.
“Slowly, sweetheart. Let’s make this last.” He turned so they could see themselves in the mirror. “Look at us,” he whispered.
She looked. The sight was erotic and illicit—as if they were voyeurs to their own ecstasy. As she watched, Ross lowered his mouth to suck her left nipple. The sight set her on fire and the sweet tightness made her gasp. She threw back her head, afraid she would explode or scream or pass out.
“Is this good?” he asked her. “Does this feel good?”
“Oh…it…oh…it’s so…” She could only gasp single syllables.
“Good,” he said, triumph in his voice. He pushed into her, millimeter by exquisite millimeter.
“Please, more,” she moaned, not caring what she said as long as she got more of him.
He moved faster, his body trembling with urgency as he thrust deeper and harder.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she gasped. Now and then she caught sight of them in the mirror—her knees spread, breasts swollen and tight-tipped, his buttocks rippling as he thrust into her—powerful, yet needy, too.
Then his speed quickened even more. He moaned, then slammed into her and exploded, the spasm bringing on her own climax. She cried out, writhing and twisting while he pumped into her for long, glorious seconds. When it was over, she sagged against him, tucking her face into his neck. “That was amazing,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he said, then, almost as an afterthought, “señorita.”
She smiled into his neck.
He slid out of her body, then hugged her in a familiar way. Uh-oh. She became abruptly aware that she’d just had sex with her friend Ross. She slid to the floor, embarrassed. “I’d better go,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.
She grabbed the puddle of silk and lace—her dress and teddy—from the floor and rushed into the bathroom to dress. When she came out, Ross was sitting up in the bed, beautiful and tan against the white sheets.
“Why don’t you stay?” he said. “We have the room all night.” His expression promised even more sensual delights.
But that would spoil the illusion. Like Cinderella before the clock sounded midnight, she had to get away before reality sank in. She slipped on her shoes and shook her head. “That would be too much. You gave me exactly what I needed.”
“I’m glad.”
“You were perfect—a perfect stranger.”
He saluted her. “I aim to please.” But that was too Ross, so he added, “Adiós, cara mía.”
“Adiós, Miguel, mi amor,” she said with a grin.
All the way home, she felt invigorated. She couldn’t believe that was her with her legs around Ross’s hips, crying out wildly for more. Just like one of Ross’s women. She’d never had sex like that in her life—reveling in her body, watching herself move and moan. And sitting on a table? Omigod. She would have thought it would be too awkward. But nooo. With Ross it was graceful and perfect.
She tested herself. Did she feel she was falling in love? Not at all. She felt sensual and confident and relaxed and wonderful. It had been just the way Tina described it—two people sharing physical pleasure. It didn’t have to be love.
Except, what would happen when she saw Ross at S&S for their noon game of spades? It could be really, really weird. Or really, really funny. Or really, really hot. She had no idea which.
She knew one thing—she’d split the hotel bill with him. She’d checked the rate on the way out. Three hundred dollars was too much for Ross to spend on a favor to a friend. Luckily, she knew that he was an extravagant guy without a thrifty impulse in his soul. Otherwise, she might have to wonder if there was more to this mystery date than was good for either of them.

4
“ABSO-FRIGGIN’-LUTELY amazing,” Tina said after Kara had described the events at the Hyatt the night before. They were in the coffee room where Kara was drinking a double-bagger of Earl Grey because she could barely keep her eyes open. She’d lain awake all night reliving her Latin lover adventure.
“It was amazing,” Kara said wistfully. “Only I don’t know what to say to him now. He saw me…you know…like that.”
“Like what? With your head thrown back, eyes rolling, sweating and moaning like a beast? Like that?”
“No, better than that. I was really, really sexy.” The memory made her blush. “And today I’m going to have to ask the guy whose hips I wrapped my legs around last night to quit belching the lyrics of songs over the office intercom.”
Tina opened the refrigerator for what Kara knew to be her usual morning pilfering. “God, nothing in here but Sampson’s peanut-butter celery that he never eats.” She emerged with a piece of it.
“Could I get some help here?” Kara said, calling her friend back to her problem.
“Just act normal,” Tina answered, waving the stalk in the air. “You have a double life. Last night you were an exotic stranger and he was Don Juan. Today you’re back to being a repressed account exec and he’s an overgrown kid who collects comic books.”
“I guess so. And last night did the trick. I can definitely see how sex without love works.”
“Poof!” Tina said, pretending to tap Kara’s head with her celery wand. “You’re sexually liberated.”
“It was nice of Ross to do that for me, don’t you think?”
“He got something out of the deal, too,” Tina said, then gave Kara a speculative look. “You’re not making too much of this, are you? No urge to register at Macy’s or anything?”
“Of course not. This was a one-time thing.” Except all she’d done for the past ten hours was relive the event and long for more. “So, you say, just act like nothing happened?”
“Exactly.”
She sipped her tea, clutching the warm mug with her nervously cold palms. “Speaking of nothing happening, how did it go with Tom last night?”
Tina blushed. Amazing. Tina never blushed. “It was bizarre. It started out like I planned—it’s two a.m. and I tell him my car won’t start and could he give me a ride home. He looks at me funny, but he says he’ll do it.” Tina tapped her lip with the jagged-ended celery stick.
“Then what?”
“So, I climb into his car, lean into him to free my seat belt, giving him plenty of thigh to ogle—and he ogled, all right. Good, I think, we’re getting somewhere. I’ll invite him in for thank-you coffee and we’ll see if he’s as attentive in bed as he is at the bar.
“He hardly talks in the car, but I drag out of him that he’s close to his family, and he’s taking classes to be an engineer. His eyes are so blue…. Anyway, we get to my place and I ask him to come in and you won’t believe what he says to me.” Pause. Tina was such a drama queen.
“What?”
She took a bite of celery and chewed slowly. “He says, ‘You need your sleep.’”
“What?”
“Then he says, ‘Give me your distributor cap and I’ll put it back on before you pick up the car.’ Can you believe it? He was on to me the whole time. Then he offers me a ride to work this morning.”
“Wow. What did you do?”
“I gave him the cap, but I rode in with my neighbor.”
“So, are you giving up?”
“Are you kidding? I figure he likes to make the first move. Old-fashioned, but nice. He held the door for me and walked me up to my apartment, too. A gentleman.” She sighed, then tossed the stub of celery into the trash. “I’ll just play it his way. Let him come to me.”
“Maybe he’s not your kind of guy, Tina.”
“He’s hot. That makes him my kind of guy.”
“What if he wants to get serious?”
“No guy wants to get serious. Not if he has half a chance not to. That only happens in romance novels.”
“Just be careful.”
“Ditto,” she said, looking past Kara’s shoulder. “Miguel at twelve o’clock.”
Kara whirled to find Ross leaning against the doorjamb taking a swig from a quart bottle of V8 juice.
“Ross!” she said, too bright, too nervous.
“Have fun last night, Kara?” he asked, his expression neutral. “Meet anybody?”
“I, uh, I…actually, I did.” Her heart pounded in her ears at the sight and smell of him—she could still detect Miguel’s spicy scent. It seemed weird to talk about it in front of Tina, but she needed some acknowledgment that she hadn’t been alone in the miracle of it all.
“That’s good.” Nothing flickered in Ross’s eyes. She almost despaired. Hadn’t it meant anything to him at all?
“I hope it was all that you wanted.” Then he touched her shoulder—softly, but with an intimacy that turned her to liquid. It meant something to him, all right.
“All I wanted. And more,” she said. But not too much? She wasn’t thinking about engagement rings or wedding cakes, right?
Tina snorted and looked from one to the other. Then she pointed at Kara. “You be careful. That’s all I’m going to say.” She toddled off.
“Good advice,” Ross said softly. “Surprising, coming from Tina.”
“I know. She’s getting downright maternal.”
“Are you all right?”
“Sure. Yes.” Her mouth was so dry and he was standing so close.
“I mean, you’re not smitten or anything?” He was trying to joke, but he looked at her very closely.
“Smitten? Ha,” she joked back. “You’re good, but not that good.”
“I’m not known for my modesty.”
“Evidently not. And I remember both my name and where my underwear is.” Electricity shot through her, as the image of Miguel pushing her teddy to the floor came to her. “Talking about it feels weird,” she said.
“Yeah.” Ross ran his fingers through his hair. “Hard not to, though. I can’t stop thinking about it.” His eyes flared again.
“I can’t believe that was me doing that,” she whispered, blushing madly.
“Believe it. You were hot. But I wasn’t surprised. You don’t seem to know how sexy you are.”
“Thanks.” His praise warmed her to her toes. “That was good for me, Ross. I learned a lot. Thanks.”
“And you’re sure you don’t feel the urge to offer me a sock drawer?”
“No way. You’re too much of a slob.”
“Let’s not get insulting now. I liked it better when you were worshiping at my feet.”
“Pul-eeze,” she said, shoving him playfully out of her way. “Back to work, Mr. Love Meister.”
Relief filled Kara. She and Ross had had amazing sex and they were still the same joky, easy friends they’d been the day before. Later that day, feeling jaunty, she slipped a check under a straightedge on Ross’s drafting table to pay for half the hotel room.
Except when she returned to her desk after a Dairy Arizona meeting, she found the check on her desk torn in half with a Post-it note that said, My pleasure…Miguel. Lust washed through her and her legs turned to boiled pasta.
Ah, Miguel.
At home that night, Kara felt terrible—alive with itching. She couldn’t read and TV was boring. She even tried the firefighter video, but it looked silly and flat, not warm and sensual. How could anyone settle for video sex when there was the real thing out there? She wanted more of Miguel.
What if Miguel wanted more of Katherine?
There was only one way to find out. An hour later, she stood in the doorway to the Hyatt bar, dressed as she had been last night, her heart in her throat, looking for a certain lonely South American playboy with an on-and-off accent. What was the worst that could happen? If Miguel showed up, perfect. If not, no one would ever know how foolish she’d been.
Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t show. Probably for the best. How could a second time compete with the first? The major charm of last night had been the miraculous newness of it all. Ross must realize that. How uncharacteristically sensible of him.
Finally, when the lounge singer, an ancient-looking guy wearing a tux and a toupee in equally bad taste, started singing “Strangers in the Night,” she almost laughed out loud. Strangers in the night, indeed. She slid off her stool and practically ran out of the bar.

WHEN ROSS STEPPED into the Hyatt dressed like Miguel and feeling like an idiot, the last strains of that Frank Sinatra tune about strangers exchanging glances were fading from the air. He just wanted to see if Kara—make that Katherine—was having the same thoughts he was. If not, so be it. They’d had a nice night and that should be enough.
He stayed for an entire set of the lounge singer until the guy started doo-be-doo-be-doing his way through “Strangers in the Night” for the second time. Ross hadn’t heard that song in years. His parents had the album and when his mom was depressed she would play it and get that wistful look on her face. She never said anything, but he could hear her thinking, If it weren’t for your father and you kids, I’d be exchanging glances with a stranger right now. He’d hated that.
So much better to make fun of the singer in his powder-blue tuxedo and bad rug, especially since Ross’s stranger in the night had not shown her perky breasts in that slinky black dress.
He should have known. Kara was smart. That night had been perfect, and how could he top perfection? He was good, but not that good.

KARA GOT TO WORK early the next morning. She’d peeled off the skintight dress and kicked it into a corner—a move worthy of Ross—and slept off that stupid fantasy. If even reckless Ross knew better than to try again, something must be wrong with her. Maybe she was trying to fall in love with him.
She’d nipped it in time, though. Her concentration was in sharp focus this morning. One hour into the day and she’d already coaxed the Dairy Arizona CEO into getting his board of directors to sign off on the ads. Her tenacity was legendary at S&S. If you want it done, give it to Kara. That was the book on her and she was proud of it. By the end of hour two she’d drafted the promotion plan, and then headed into the kitchen for her midmorning snack as a reward. She was definitely over the fantasy aftereffects.
Today she’d gone with low-fat cottage cheese with pineapple and sliced cantaloupe instead of the usual yogurt and carrots. She was a lot better off living dangerously with her snacks than her sex life. She rounded the turn to the kitchen and found Ross sitting at the table, his feet up, reading the alternative newspaper, whistling to himself.

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