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Truly, Madly, Deeply
Vicki Lewis Thompson
Ten years ago, Dustin Ramsey and Erica Mann shared their first sexual experience in the back seat of Dustin's red Mustang. And the interlude was…a complete disaster. Now Dustin is facing a huge challenge–taking over the family business. But before he does, he has to get past his one and only failure. His plan: to find–and seduce–Erica again. Only, this time he's got to do it right….Erica is amazed when Dustin shows up on her doorstep. True, he has a business proposition for her, but the look in his eye tells her what kind of proposition he's really offering…. Erica has come a long way in ten years. Her newsletter, Dateline: Dallas, has gained her a reputation as the Dr. Ruth of the Dallas area. So if Dustin thinks he can just walk in and seduce her senseless, he'd better think again. Because Erica intends to seduce him first….



“I’d hoped my first sexual experience would be…different,” Dustin admitted
“I loved every minute of being in that back seat with you,” he added quickly, then shook his head. “Or should I say, every second. But once I was inside you, the sensation was better than I ever dreamed it could be…. I’m afraid I went a little crazy.”
Erica’s tension became more centered, setting up a deep throbbing between her thighs. Outside the truck, a cricket began to chirp. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine they were back on that country road.
“Turns out I have the same reaction now that I had ten years ago,” Dustin said softly. “Get me alone with you in the dark, and all I can think about is being inside you.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I know we’ve had good sex, and you said we’ve wiped out the old memories. But I really can’t agree.”
Erica opened her eyes and looked at him. In the shadows, he could still be that eighteen-year-old boy she’d had such a crush on.
“I’m not asking you to go back to my hotel,” he said. “I realize now that what I’ve wanted all along is for you to climb into the back seat of this king cab with me and re-create one of the most important moments in my life. Only, this time I want us to do it right….”


Dear Reader,
What a thrill to be linked to that terrific continuity series, TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS! So many lives have been touched by the Finders Keepers Detective Agency, founded by Lily and Dylan Garrett, descendants of Isabella Trueblood. And like the Rio Grande surging toward the Gulf of Mexico, the saga grows wider and richer with every story. And wilder, too! Somehow, I doubt good old Isabella ever imagined a pursuit quite like this one….
Because now TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS is heading into Blaze territory! It doesn’t get much hotter than Texas in August. And the torrid encounters between Erica Mann and Dustin Ramsey sure resemble spontaneous combustion….
And the heat wave is going to continue into the fall. Next month Tori Carrington sets Houston on fire in Every Move You Make. And then in October, Debbi Rawlins fans the flames in Hands On. So don’t miss out. Join us for a Blazing good time, TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS style!
Enjoy,
Vicki Lewis Thompson
P.S. To drop me a line, or find out about upcoming releases, visit my Web site at www.vickilewisthompson.com. And please check out tryblaze.com!

Truly, Madly, Deeply
Vicki Lewis Thompson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Sebastian, my most excellent writing partner.
You’re a great cat.

Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue

Prologue
PEERING AT THE COMPUTER screen, P.I. Jennifer Madison muttered a few swear words in her native Spanish. The investigative software she’d installed was malfunctioning yet again. Finding Erica Deutchmann should have been a snap, but computer glitches were turning it into a two-day nightmare.
Then, miraculously, the program coughed up the information she’d been struggling to find.
“Ayiyi! There she is, living in Dallas!” The minute the triumphant words left her mouth, she cringed. Sure enough, the baby in the crib next to her desk woke and started to cry.
“Ah, baby Annie, your mama didn’t mean to shout.” Quickly activating the print icon on her computer screen, Jennifer rolled her chair to the crib and reached for the wailing baby as the printer began to hum.
“What happened?” Still holding a whirling automatic toothbrush, her husband Ryan charged into the home office. “Is Annie okay?”
“She’s fine.” Jennifer held Annie against her shoulder and rolled the desk chair back and forth. “But you’re getting toothpaste all over.”
Ryan glanced down at the toothbrush and shut it off. “Whoops.” He swiped at the droplets on the door. “But I heard you shout and then Annie started to cry….”
“That’s my fault.” Jennifer stood and carried the baby over to Ryan. “I got excited when I finally found Erica Deutchmann, and I scared Annie. She’s okay, now, see?” She turned so that Ryan had a view of the baby as she settled back to sleep on Jennifer’s shoulder.
And the agency was all hers now that Morales and Budnicki had both retired. She loved being in charge. She’d closed the downtown office and moved home temporarily, but now that Annie was two months old, Jennifer was looking for a new office close to home, a place where she could meet with clients a couple of days a week. With her recent software problems and the time spent office-hunting, she was way behind. No, she really couldn’t have Ryan staying at home. He needed to be out inspecting his drilling sites so she could do her job.
“I see.” Ryan’s voice softened with love. “She’s so sweet, Jen. I hate going to work. I’d rather stay home with you guys.”
“I wish you could, too.” Although to be truthful, she wondered if she’d get any work done if Ryan stayed home. They’d both waited impatiently for the doctor’s permission to have sex again, and abstinence had made them ravenous for each other. It seemed as if whenever Annie slept, they got it on.
Ryan placed a soft kiss on the baby’s head. “At least one of us can stay with Annie.”
Jennifer laughed softly. “Too bad it’s the one with the big mouth. I get involved in what I’m doing and forget she’s right there next to me. Well, I guess I’d better put her down and let you scrub the toothpaste off your shirt so you can get on with your day.” She walked slowly to the crib and eased Annie back into it.
“I could call in and say I’ll be a little later than I thought.”
Jennifer turned to discover that tenderness for the baby had been replaced by good old-fashioned lust directed at her. If she looked into his eyes for very long she’d give in to that sexual pull. Making love to Ryan Madison was one of the best things life had to offer.
Slowly she shook her head. “Now that I’ve found Erica, I need to call Dustin Ramsey right away.”
Disappointment clouded his expression. “He couldn’t wait a few hours?”
“I projected I’d have this information two days ago. Considering how influential the Ramseys are in Midland, I want to make the best impression I can.”
Ryan sighed dramatically. “Everyone told me it would happen sooner or later.”
“What?”
“My wife would get bored with the same old routine. Maybe it’s time for me to buy some sex manuals and—” The rest of his sentence was obliterated as Jennifer threw herself into his arms.
“Take me, you wild man. Take me, now.”
He grinned down at her. “What about Dustin Ramsey?”
“He can wait a few more hours.” She grabbed a fistful of Ryan’s shirt. “Did I ever tell you that the smell of toothpaste gets me hot?”

1
Dear Erica,
My boyfriend loves it when I give him oral sex, but he’s stingy about returning the favor. Should I keep him or dump him?
Sincerely, Sugarlips
ERICA DRUMMED her fingers on the edge of the keyboard while she contemplated her answer. Then her clock chimed the half hour, reminding her that Dustin Ramsey would show up in thirty minutes, and her stomach began to churn.
She needed to make use of this time before he arrived. Her newsletter was due at the printers by noon tomorrow. If she’d had any backbone whatsoever, she’d have told Dustin this wasn’t a good time for him to make the trip from Midland. The first of next week would have been better.
But no, she’d been too dumbstruck by the call, too eager to see him after all this time. Too awed by the great Dustin Ramsey, just as she had been at eighteen. Now she was so nervous about the meeting that she couldn’t concentrate on her work. Her New Age mother would tell her to “live in the moment” and stop obsessing, but Erica hadn’t perfected that yet.
With a sigh, she rolled her chair away from the battered desk. Then she stood and wandered around her small living room, adjusting the cushions on her flea-market rattan furniture. She also should have suggested meeting him at some neutral location instead of going along with his too-intimate suggestion of coming to her apartment. She couldn’t imagine that soon he’d be standing on her sisal rug. Once she’d left Midland ten years ago, she’d never expected to see him again.
Never wanted to see him again, either. In her view, if you had embarrassingly bad sex with a guy there were only two options—hang in there and try to get it right, or avoid each other forever. She would have voted for Option A if she’d had an ounce of sexual confidence. Instead she’d allowed Dustin to dictate what happened next, and he’d chosen Option B. She could hardly blame him. Virginal and fumbling, she’d been more of a liability than an asset in the back seat of his Mustang on that warm April night.
Years later she’d realized that a more experienced woman could have changed the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am into a night of ecstasy for both of them. She could have taken charge of the situation by teasing him, petting him, suggesting varied positions, moving the action outside, even performing a striptease. Instead she’d simply spread her thighs. No doubt a savvy guy like Dustin had been bored, so bored that by now he’d forgotten the whole incident. Unfortunately, she believed him when he said he’d looked her up to discuss a business proposition, something to do with her newsletter for singles.
She could have told him that she’d started Dateline: Dallas on a dare and that she planned to abandon it the minute she landed a juicy hard-news slot on a major daily. But then he might have changed his mind about discussing this business proposition, and she couldn’t resist the possibility of spending a little time with Dustin. She’d never been able to resist that prospect.
Ten years, and she hadn’t progressed an inch when it came to that guy. Damn it. She forced herself to return to the computer. Sugarlips was the only one who could save her.
When she eventually gave up the newsletter, she’d miss writing replies to the letters column. She’d miss the free food from the restaurants she reviewed, the complimentary movie tickets, and the free drinks handed out by West End nightclubs hoping for a mention. She’d had fun this year making lemonade out of her inability to land the job she really wanted, but she had to agree with her parents that Dateline: Dallas was on the superficial side and a waste of trees.
As she typed, she smiled at the writer’s self-description.
Dear Sugarlips,
Your guy is loafing on the lead, girlfriend! You might try enticing him with flavored oils, but my gut feeling is that you’re dealing with a sexually selfish dude. I’d give him one more chance, but only one. If he fails that test, it’s Dumpsville, baby. Good luck.
Erica
Saving both letter and reply to a new file, she moved on to the next letter.
Dear Erica,
My boyfriend has no staying power, and I’m left unsatisfied. He says I should be able to come sooner, and I say he should be able to last longer. Who’s right?
Sincerely, Frustrated Franny
Erica began typing with more enthusiasm. On this particular subject, she was a certified expert.

DUSTIN RAMSEY STOOD outside a three-story brick apartment complex on McKinney Avenue, the results of Jennifer Madison’s investigation tucked into his briefcase. The sweat trickling down his backbone had little to do with the August heat and a lot to do with anxiety. Because of the ninety-five-degree temperature he’d left off the tie, but a business deal required a jacket as a bare minimum, and he’d also worn his best snakeskin boots.
He might feel like a fraud on the inside, but on the outside he would look like the professional businessman he should be, given his heritage. People in Dallas paid attention to clothes. He’d left Midland at dawn, and the knot of tension in his gut had tightened with every mile.
No doubt about it, he was in deep shit. If he’d asked to be involved in the family business instead of screwing around on the amateur auto racing circuit, he’d have known that his dad was flushing the family fortune down the toilet. It was a common story in West Texas—oil barons unable to compete with the cheap crude coming out of the Middle East.
As if that wasn’t disaster enough, Clayton Ramsey had used precious money to buy two weekly newspapers, one in San Antonio and one in Houston. Apparently Dustin’s father had always longed to be a newspaperman. Dustin had been oblivious to everything until eight months ago, when a stroke had left his father unable to talk.
Thrust into power, Dustin had considered auctioning the land to developers, selling both newspapers, setting his parents up in a town home and calling it good. But the tears in his mother’s eyes and the hopeless droop of his father’s shoulders changed his mind. He’d use the land as collateral to rebuild Ramsey Enterprises and hang on to his father’s newspapers. Somehow.
The notice for his ten-year high-school reunion had come about that time, which had started him thinking about Erica. He’d goofed off in every class, barely passing, until the semester he took chemistry and ended up as Erica’s lab partner. She’d challenged him to do better, and by God, he had. It was his lone A in a crowd of C’s.
He must have had some dumb idea that his performance in that chemistry class would transfer to his seduction of Erica in the back of the Mustang. She’d been blond, leggy, slightly drunk and unbelievable sensuous. He’d been…a virgin. A bumbling, eager, too-quick-to-come virgin. While all his jock buddies had managed to get laid in some form or fashion by the time they were juniors, Dustin hadn’t.
Naturally he’d let everyone assume otherwise, shy about revealing the romantic streak that had made him want to wait until the moment felt exactly right. That moment hadn’t arrived until April of his senior year during a keg party at Jeremy’s house. Jeremy threw a party every time his parents left town, and usually the guests were limited to football players and cheerleaders.
But in honor of his senior year, Jeremy had invited the whole damn school, including brainiacs like Erica. A couple hours into the party, Dustin had come up with the brilliant idea of asking her to take a drive into the country, and they’d ended up in the back seat together.
He still winced every time he thought about his abysmal performance that night. What a total disappointment he must have been for a knowledgeable girl like Erica. What a deep disappointment he’d been to himself. To think that the homecoming king, star running back and most eligible bachelor in school was a lousy lover. He hadn’t been able to face Erica after that.
Ten years later he could forgive himself a little bit. He’d been naive to think that he could be instantly good at sex the way he’d been instantly good at every sport he’d ever tried. Hand-eye coordination was all well and good, but sex involved coordinating a trickier part of his anatomy. Besides that, he’d been intimidated by Erica. He’d tried too hard.
Okay, now he was better at sex. Without bragging, he could say that he was damn good at it. Several women had told him so. He should be able to forget that he hadn’t given Erica Deutchmann, his first lover, an orgasm. But he couldn’t forget, and he wanted a rematch. That was a big part of why he was here.
It wasn’t, however, the main reason. His reputation as a party animal had attracted other party animals. Now when he had to get serious, he had no friends to rely on. But during that chemistry class, he’d learned that he could rely on Erica. She was intelligent and ambitious, just the sort of person he needed on his side during this business crisis.
He wasn’t at all surprised to find her publishing a wildly successful newsletter for singles all by herself. Once Jennifer had uncovered the information about Dateline: Dallas, Dustin had contacted a couple of his racing buddies who lived here, and they’d said everybody over eighteen and under forty knew about the newsletter. It was savvy, sexy and just plain fun.
Erica had tapped into a gold mine, and that was exactly the kind of drive and initiative he needed as part of his campaign to reorganize Ramsey Enterprises. He already had printing capability in San Antonio and Houston. Revenue from a hot newsletter could shore up the bottom line for the weeklies his father was so attached to.
Plus, if everything worked out, Dustin would have many opportunities to erase old memories and create new ones with Erica. It was a good plan, and it had to work. Yeah, the strategy might look like a Hail Mary pass in the last minutes of the game, but it was all he had going for him.
He took a deep breath and headed for the set of glass double doors leading into the building. Before he left Dallas, he would prove to Erica that he was capable of excellence in business and pleasure.
Inside the building he discovered stairs and no elevator. Damn. He liked the idea of whisking up to the third floor in an elevator before he could lose his nerve. Taking off his jacket, he started up.
By the second flight he’d convinced himself that this was the most insane idea he’d ever had. Erica wouldn’t be interested in sharing either business or pleasure with him. She’d sounded sort of distant on the phone. He’d been obsessing about her for years and it was possible she barely remembered him.
Still, he’d see this through. He might have screwed around most of his life, but he wasn’t a quitter. That’s why he’d scored so many touchdowns in high school—point him toward a goal and he was unstoppable. He’d just never seen any other goals worth the effort. Until now.
On the third floor he paused and put on his coat. Hefting his briefcase again, he started down the carpeted hallway toward number 310. His heart pounded like a sonofabitch, and not from the climb, either. He hadn’t been this nervous since…since driving out into the country with Erica.
He stood in front of her door for a good thirty seconds, working up to pushing her doorbell. Finally he squared his shoulders and did the deed. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door.
When she opened it, he managed an automatic smile. He was a Ramsey, and Ramseys always led with a big, Texas-style grin. But he was afraid his eyes popped.
At the high school reunion a month ago, he’d had a chance to see how ten years had treated his classmates, and not a one of them had blossomed like this. Erica had been pretty back in high school, but not especially stylish, wearing both her blond hair and her denim skirts long. Now both were short. Very short.
Her hair was cut in the jaunty style so popular now, and her jungle-print skirt and black tank were the kind of seductive clothes that women wore these days. Not many wore them with this kind of flair though, because not many had been blessed with a long-legged, full-breasted figure that would never go out of style. She wore large wooden earrings and open-toed mules. Urban chick all the way.
He quickly checked her left hand and found bright red nails but no engagement ring. That was a relief.
“Hey, Dustin. It’s been a long time, huh?”
Way too long. “Sure has. You’re looking terrific.” It was lame, but the best he could do considering his jangled brain and dry throat.
“You, too.” Her tone was cautious. “Come on in.” She stepped back and gestured for him to enter.
“Thanks.” He could understand her caution. She wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea, like maybe she was interested in a date. Assuming she remembered their history, he’d be the last person on earth she’d want to date, old Instant-o-matic Ramsey. Although he was mesmerized by the curve of her breasts and intoxicated by the exotic fragrance she wore, he managed to walk past her and into the room with what he hoped was confident ease.
He kept his voice casual. “So why didn’t you come to the reunion?” She’d cost him precious money by staying away. He’d expected to hook up with her there. When she hadn’t showed up and nobody had known her whereabouts, he’d tried the phone listings in various Texas cities, never suspecting she’d shortened her last name to Mann. He’d had to hire Jennifer to dig up that information.
“Reunion? Oh, yeah, I guess it is ten years, isn’t it? I didn’t get the notice, probably because of my name change.”
“I wondered why you decided to change it.” He inhaled her perfume with relish. It was much more blatant and sexy than what she’d used in high school. Her makeup was more out there, too—pouting red lips and dramatic black lashes, even though he knew for a fact she was a natural blond. While taking off his Jockeys in his room after that fateful night with her, he’d found a blond hair tangled in with his darker ones.
“When I was in journalism at U.T. I decided I wanted a more dramatic byline.”
He nodded. “That sounds like you.” Dazed as he was by Erica, he had trouble focusing on his surroundings. Vaguely he registered a bright, sunny living room with lots of bookshelves, rattan furniture that gave the apartment a tropical look, a counter defining a small kitchen to his left and a hallway leading to the bedroom and bath to his right. Over her sofa hung a huge picture of some kind of flower. The rosy colors inside the flower made him think of sex, but anything would make him think of sex right now.
On an old wooden desk sat her computer, still turned on. The desk was cluttered with paper and advertising flyers. “I see you’ve been working on the newsletter.”
“Yeah, deadline coming up.”
He set down his briefcase and wandered over to the desk. He’d already seen a couple of issues, and he knew the advice column was the juiciest part, with the letters usually focused on sex. He glanced at the screen.
Dear Frustrated Franny,
You deserve long and delicious bouts of sex with many orgasms. Teach your guy to go the distance. Here’s one technique:
“Would you like some iced tea?”
He glanced up into those gray eyes of hers and swallowed. He’d give his cherished Harley jacket to know what she was thinking, now that they were face-to-face again. He’d become more experienced, but so had she. For example, she knew techniques for prolonging an erection. He might not have the edge, after all.
Wired as he felt, he could use two fingers of Jack Daniel’s to settle him down. “Tea would be great.”
She broke eye contact, as if she wanted to preserve her secrets. “Have a seat anywhere you like.”
“Okay.” He walked over to the sofa and sank down on the soft cushions. It would be an excellent make-out sofa, but he had a long way to go to overcome his previous reputation and be allowed to test-drive it.
“Are you hungry?” she called out again. “I have cookies.”
Sharing food with a business associate was always a good thing. He should keep his wits about him and remember tactics like that. “What kind?” he asked, remembering one of the other tricks of the food maneuver.
“Fig Newmans.”
He must have misunderstood her. “Fig Newtons?”
“Better. These are the organic version put out by Paul Newman and his daughter Nell.”
“Oh. Sounds good.” The cookies might be made from seaweed and tofu, but he’d eat the damned things. Urban chick or not, Erica obviously was still into the environmental stuff. He glanced at the magazines on the coffee table and noticed they were back issues of Mother Earth News.
He wondered if he had time to sneak back to the computer and read about her techniques for prolonging an erection. Not that he needed to read them, of course. He didn’t have that problem anymore. For another thing, focusing on the problem might even make it happen when he finally got his second chance. Now that would be a pisser.
“Here we are.” She walked into the room carrying a wooden tray with a pitcher of iced tea, two frosted glasses and a plate mounded with what looked like fig bars. “If you’ll pick up those magazines, I’ll set the tray there.”
He leaned over and scooped up the magazines. From this angle, if he made any kind of effort, he could look right up her skirt. He made no effort. Just watching the way her thighs brushed lightly together as she walked was causing enough damage. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but sex where Erica was concerned.
First things first. He needed to sell her on the idea of expanding her newsletter. Once they’d agreed on that he could turn his attention to other things, and not before.
She poured the tea and sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “So. You have a proposition for me?”
He wondered if she’d deliberately made that sound like a sexual challenge, as if she found it difficult to believe a three-minute wonder could manage a decent business proposal. Maybe his performance ten years ago was coloring everything for her, too. God, he hoped not.
Wrapping his hand around the cold glass of iced tea, he picked it up and took a swallow. Good, strong tea. He looked her straight in the eye. “I’d love to take you and your newsletter to the next level.”
Her gaze flickered. “My newsletter?”
At least she hadn’t laughed. If she’d laughed, he would have been toast. “I think you should consider widening your scope. Ramsey Enterprises could provide a support structure that would allow you to really try your wings and achieve greater satisfaction from your efforts.”
Hey, that sounded pretty good. Maybe he was better at business negotiations than he thought. He’d decided not to mention the weeklies until later on, after she was hooked on the idea. According to Jennifer’s info, Erica used to work for the Dallas Morning News. After being involved with a major daily, she might think a weekly wasn’t impressive enough.
She frowned in obvious confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Then again, maybe he sucked at business negotiations. He sighed. “You have a great product. I think you could franchise it.”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “I’m not really into the newsletter. It’s just something I’m doing while I wait for the right opening on a big daily.”
He stared at her, unable to believe that this brilliant newsletter idea was a throwaway job. “But everybody’s talking about Dateline: Dallas. You have a hot commodity there with all kinds of potential.”
She shrugged and picked up a cookie. “Sure, it’s fun, but—”
“If you expanded into other cities, the sky’s the limit. Compare that to slaving away on a reporter’s salary.”
Her eyes flashed. “As if I cared about money. I want to make a difference, and I quit my job at the Morning News when I wasn’t getting the stories I wanted. The newsletter is tiding me over until a good job opens up somewhere else, but I don’t kid myself that it has any socially redeeming value. At least I print it on seventy percent post-consumer recycled paper, so that salves my conscience.”
Dustin was astounded. He’d never imagined that she wasn’t going to continue with this fantastic project. “It has lots of redeeming value,” he said without thinking.
“Like what?” She bit into her cookie with even white teeth.
“Like…being single is tough these days. Sexual marathoners, born-again virgins, cross-dressers. It’s a jungle out there. People need a guide.”
She chewed and swallowed her bite of cookie. “I want to deal with bigger issues.”
He had a feeling that saving Ramsey Enterprises wouldn’t count as a big issue with her. “So you’re not interested in what I’m suggesting.”
“I have to admit I’m intrigued, but I can’t see any point in talking about it when I’ll abandon the whole thing the minute I get the right job offer.”
Intrigued. He could work with that. Maybe he hadn’t bobbled the Hail Mary pass, after all. Maybe it was still hanging suspended in the air. “Any good leads on that job?”
She sighed. “No. With the economy still uncertain, people are keeping the jobs they have. Openings are scarce.”
“Then why not think about the franchise idea?”
“Because if I expanded, then I wouldn’t be able to drop it and run so easily.”
“We could anticipate that you’d be leaving, put people in place who could take over.” That would be easier said than done. Judging from the editions he’d seen, her personality was stamped all over it.
“Why are you so hot to do this?”
Now there was a loaded question. “What you’re doing is unique because it’s city-specific.” He had no idea where that term had come from, but it sounded professional. Thank God for his natural ability to BS his way through anything. The talent had served him well in college, and it might work here.
But talk about hot—all he had to do was glance over at her sitting in the chair with her long legs crossed, and he began to salivate. Desperate for some sort of oral satisfaction, he picked up a cookie and bit into it. Not bad. Tasty, even. But figs made him think of fig leaves. And fig leaves made him think of nearly naked bodies. And sex.
“What sort of expansion are we talking about?”
Surely she hadn’t just glanced at his crotch. He was imagining things. “Whatever you think you could handle.”
She nibbled at her cookie. “Fort Worth would be the logical first step. Then maybe Houston.”
“Houston’s good. San Antonio, too, maybe.” He watched her eat the cookie, watched as she licked a crumb from her lower lip, leaving it red and glistening.
“I’m not saying I want to do this,” she said, “but I wouldn’t mind having a little time to think about it.”
“Take as long as you want.” Yes, the Hail Mary pass was still in the air.
“Are you heading back to Midland today?”
“Not necessarily.” He didn’t plan to let her know how critical her little newsletter was to the fate of Ramsey Enterprises. That could spook her completely.
“Do you have other business in Dallas?”
Only you. “Not really. In fact, I’m due for a couple of days off.” He picked up his briefcase, opened it and pulled out a nine-by-eleven envelope. “I’ve laid out the details of the proposal for you to look over at your leisure. No pressure. I haven’t been to Dallas in a couple of years. I can give you a day or so to decide while I take in the sights.”
“Alone?”
“If you mean do I have a girlfriend stashed in a hotel room, the answer is no.” Good. She’d led the way to a topic he wanted to cover. He finished off his cookie. “And while we’re on the subject, is there anyone you need to consult about this? Some silent partner I don’t know about?”
She spread her arms. “Nope. I’m it.”
You sure are. “If you should change your mind and agree to this, there will be some intense working situations until we get all the machinery in place for the various markets we plan to penetrate.” Penetrate. God, he couldn’t seem to avoid sexual language. “If you have a boyfriend who likes plenty of attention, he should be forewarned.”
Her gaze turned frosty. “I wouldn’t tolerate a boyfriend who required plenty of attention, as you so quaintly put it.”
Whoops. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that. Whether you have a boyfriend is of no consequence to our business discussion, and I was out of line to bring up the subject.”
“Agreed.”
Well, he’d outsmarted himself, zigged when he should have zagged, and been thrown for a loss. He needed time out so he could regroup. He handed her the envelope. “Then maybe I should leave you with this and go play tourist. I can check back tomor—”
“Or we can take the envelope with us while we go grab some lunch. I have a restaurant to review for the current issue, and I need to do it today.”
“Sounds good.” The idea of spending more time with her was the best news he’d had yet, but he didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Then we can have more time to talk.” She rattled the envelope. “And I doubt if all the questions I have are answered in here. On the very slight chance I might change my mind and consider franchising, I need to get a feel for the company. All my information is ten years old.”
“What information?” He was truly bewildered. Ten years ago even he, the only son of Joan and Clayton Ramsey, hadn’t known diddly about how the company operated. Hell, ten months ago he hadn’t known anything. He had trouble believing Erica had possessed any knowledge whatsoever ten years ago.
She focused those mysterious gray eyes on him. “On your performance,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t very good.”
He could feel the heat working up from his collar. “You mean the performance of Ramsey Enterprises?”
“Of course. What did you think I meant?”
“That’s what I thought you meant.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem for you now.”
“That’s good to hear.” She smiled. “But I’d like specifics. If we spend some time together, I’ll be certain to get all I need from you.”
They couldn’t be talking about sex. Surely she wouldn’t do that. But even if they weren’t talking about sex, she was proposing that they hang out together. Good things had to happen eventually.
“Okay,” he said. “I haven’t rented a hotel room yet. Do you have time to come along while I take care of that?”
“I can do that.” She stood and picked up the tray of tea and cookies. “Let me put this stuff away and get my purse.”
“Great.” Things were looking up. He closed his briefcase and stood as she quickly put the cookies back in the package and dumped out the remains of their iced tea.
“Be back in a sec,” she said, breezing past him and heading down the hallway.
While she was gone, he couldn’t resist going over to the computer and checking out the rest of her answer to Frustrated Franny.
Practice first with fellatio, keeping your thumb and forefinger around the base of his penis. When he’s about to come, squeeze there until he’s under control again. Once he realizes that holding off will increase his pleasure, he may be more motivated. You can also consider which positions—
Dustin heard her coming back down the hall and quickly returned to the sofa where he pretended to study the gigantic flower print hanging over it. Theoretically, looking at a flower should quiet his erection, but damned if the soft, plump interior of that flower didn’t look like a woman’s—
“Georgia O’Keefe,” Erica said, coming back into the room. “On loan from the library.”
He must have looked confused.
“You can check out prints just like you can check out books,” she explained. “That cuts down on the materialistic acquisition of things.”
“Oh.” He thought of the Western art, all originals, hanging in his mother and dad’s house. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to suggest selling those, either. He studied the print more closely and found the signature. “I thought Georgia O’Keefe painted cow skulls.”
“She did that, too. But her work with flowers is quite sexual, don’t you think?”
He turned to look at her. “So it wasn’t my imagination.”
“No.” Her color was high, but she met his gaze without hesitation. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, thinking about the hours that lay ahead of them, hours that just might unfold with promise like this exotic flower. “I definitely like it.”

2
AS ERICA LOCKED UP her apartment and walked to the stairway with Dustin, she wondered what in hell she was doing, inviting him to have lunch with her. Testing her courage, most likely. Venturing into the scary old haunted house to see if the boogeyman really lived there.
She wanted Dustin to think of her as a sophisticated, sexual creature, and so far she believed she’d pulled it off. The smart thing would have been to take his envelope and send him out the door with his new vision of her intact. She had a deadline to think about. Instead she was accompanying him out the door, as if she had to continue proving her point.
Apparently she did. He’d showed signs of being very turned on by her. She’d detected a bulge behind his fly as they’d been talking. The possibility that he still wanted her was so fascinating she had to follow up on it.
Besides, he looked damned good—more of a hottie than she’d remembered, and that was saying something. Although she’d been taught by her parents to be suspicious of men wearing expensive sport coats, she had to admit Dustin looked excellent in one and even better out of it.
For the trip down the stairs, he’d taken off his jacket and slung it over one shoulder. The western cut of his shirt emphasized those shoulders, which had broadened since high school. His voice was a shade deeper, too, and listening to him gave her goose bumps. She liked the tiny character lines fanning out from the corners of his blue eyes and the leanness in his face that had turned a handsome boy into an awesome man.
Maybe she’d decided to spend more time with him so she could figure out why he turned her on. Because he definitely did. All she had to do was look at him and she got all warm and pliable. But that reaction was very inconvenient, because he was not her type. Her type wore loose cotton pants and sandals, not snug western-cut slacks and snakeskin boots.
“Have you been working for your parents since college?” she asked.
“Uh, no, not exactly. I got back into the family business a few months ago.”
“Really?” She would have thought he’d slide right into a job with Ramsey Enterprises. “Then what have you been up to?”
He hesitated, as if he didn’t want to discuss it. “Amateur auto racing,” he said at last.
“Oh.” In other words, he’d extended his childhood so he could race around a track burning up precious fossil fuels while he helped destroy the ozone layer. He was so not her kind of guy. She dated men who held environmentally responsible jobs and spent their weekends browsing used bookstores or seeking out interesting foreign films. Any day now she was going to find a man like that who also excited her sexually.
He glanced at her. “You don’t approve of the racing thing.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. I could hear it in your voice.” He sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
He sounded much like a remorseful little kid and she smiled.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m a little embarrassed that I stayed with it so long,” he continued. “I realize it was a purely selfish deal—I barely made enough money to support myself, and although I had a hell of a good time, I probably should have been doing something more constructive.”
She tried to banish a picture of him emerging from a fast car with a triumphant grin, because the image was so damned sexy. “Then you can understand why I don’t want to devote my life to putting out a newsletter for singles, when I could be investigating important stuff like the disposal of toxic waste.” She hoped she wasn’t attracted to his flash and dash. As they continued down the stairs, she studied him with covert glances, trying to decide if that was the appeal.
“There’s a huge difference between my racing days and this newsletter,” he said. “I loved the racing, but nobody benefited from it but me. By putting out the newsletter, you’re bringing people together, making things better.”
“In a small way, maybe, but—”
“I know, I know. You want to change the world. I always admired that about you.”
“You did?” She’d never imagined herself the focus of his admiration. The focus of his temporary lust, maybe, but not admiration.
“Sure. Most of the girls were concentrating on makeup and clothes, but you picketed the administration for recycled TP in the bathrooms.”
“Which we didn’t get.”
“You were ahead of your time.”
“Thanks. I think so, too.” She also thought it was pretty cool that he’d paid attention to her antics. She’d paid attention to him, too, but not for such noble reasons.
He’d worn those sleek satin football pants to good advantage. No doubt about it, he had great buns then and still had them now. The baggy look so many of her dates liked didn’t give her a chance to find out if she liked their buns or not.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t get to the reunion,” she said, meaning it. She could ask him to give her the name of the coordinators so she could attend the next one. “How many people showed up?”
“About two hundred graduates, so the kids and spouses made it closer to four hundred at the picnic.”
“I can’t believe the kids in our class have kids of their own.”
“Some have two or three. Jeremy and Lucinda have four. Some people are on their second marriages already.”
“Unbelievable.” Speaking of Jeremy and Lucinda took her right back to that party where she and Dustin had become involved. They’d shared their first kiss out on the patio beside the swimming pool. She’d loved the shape of Dustin’s mouth. His lips were full enough to qualify him as a great kisser, yet not so full that he looked feminine.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she had a sudden thought. “Do you have kids?” No wedding ring didn’t necessarily mean no kids.
He shook his head. “Nope. No ex-wife, either. Not even an ex-fiancée.” He gave her that winning smile of his. “I’ve been having too much fun to think of tying myself down.”
Fortunately she remembered her savvy chick line as they walked out into the midday heat. “Me, too. Way too much fun.” His smile was another thing that made her tummy quiver with anticipation. Not every guy could smile with that level of confidence, as if he could spin the world on the tip of his finger if he chose to try.
“Footloose and fancy-free, huh?”
“So many men, so little time.”
He took sunglasses from an inside pocket of his jacket and put them on. “I guess I should be honored that you’re spending your lunch hour with me, then.”
She put on her own shades. “So, are you honored?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
She smiled, liking that a lot. Ten years ago he’d held the upper hand, but today she’d felt a shift in the balance of power. She couldn’t be blamed for wanting to savor that a little.
He was definitely flirting with her, and for the time being, she’d flirt back. But if he wanted to take it further, she’d back off. No point in pushing her luck and risk getting dumped a second time. Besides, she had a deadline. That should keep her from making a fool of herself today.
When they reached the apartment complex parking lot, she noticed a shiny new red Mustang and started toward it, thinking he must have traded in his vintage ride for a new model.
“I’m over here.” He headed in the direction of a silver king-cab with Ramsey Enterprises stenciled on the driver’s door.
“Oh.” She hated giving herself away by letting him know that she remembered the Mustang. “Somehow that red car looked more like you.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have a soft spot in my heart for Mustangs.”
So did she. “Is that red car a Mustang? I can never tell one model from the other.”
He rounded the truck and unlocked the passenger side. “I had a Mustang in high school.”
“Did you?”
He held out a hand to help her up into the cab. “You don’t remember it? The convertible?”
She put her hand in his and a quiver of recognition rippled through her. Thank God for sunglasses, so he couldn’t see the aftershock registered in her eyes. “Ah.” She managed a little laugh. “The convertible. Now I remember.” Then she stepped up into the saunalike interior of the truck and released his hand. At least he’d used a sunshade to shield the interior, or the heat would have been unbearable. “Those were the days, huh?”
“Those were the days.” His voice sounded a little strained. “Listen, I’ll leave the door open until I get in and get the air going.”
Thoughtful. The truck had automatic windows she wouldn’t be able to open if he closed her inside the hot cab. But she was more concerned about the topic of conversation than the temperature. She didn’t want to talk about that night and risk letting him know how much she still thought about it, or worse, remind him of what a little bumpkin she’d been.
“Do you have a favorite hotel in town?” she asked the minute he swung into his seat and started the engine. An easy-listening station came on along with the air. “Because I’d like to make a suggestion.”
“Go ahead.” He turned up the air-conditioning and removed the sunshade, lightly bumping her shoulder in the process.
She noticed the contact and pretended not to. “The Fairmont.”
“The Fairmont it is.” He turned the air conditioner to full blast, but he made no move to back out of the parking spot. Instead he rested an arm on the steering wheel and turned to her. “You’ve probably forgotten about the night of Jeremy’s party, but—”
“Wasn’t there a lot of beer involved?” Damn, he wasn’t going to let it go. “You’re right, I’m pretty foggy about what happened. I remember I’d had too much beer.”
“Maybe. But foggy memory or not, I’d like you to consider the franchise proposal. I don’t want lingering thoughts about that night to interfere with your decision.”
Swallowing, she glanced over at him and hoped he couldn’t hear her heart thumping. The radio switched to an oldie, Save The Best For Last. She’d always associated that song with Dustin. With both of them wearing sunglasses, she couldn’t read his expression. Fortunately he couldn’t read hers, either. “Wouldn’t it be best if we agreed to put that night behind us?”
“And start fresh?”
“Meaning what?” She wasn’t planning to have sex with him again, that was for sure. Never mind that she was feeling warm and tingly with both of them settled cozily in the cab and the radio playing a song from their high school days.
“A clean slate. Two friends from high school meeting again after ten years.”
“Were we friends?” God, but he looked sexy. The shirt fit beautifully, showing off his solid chest and firm stomach. She’d unbuttoned his shirt that night and run her hands over his chest. She still remembered the texture of his skin and the tickle of his hair beneath her exploring fingers. Then she’d unbuckled his belt…
“I like to think so. You pulled me through chemistry.”
She’d developed a huge crush on him in chemistry class. Her crush had been mostly about his gorgeous body, but to her surprise, she’d discovered his mind wasn’t too bad, either. Apparently he hadn’t been accustomed to using it. He’d scored higher on the final than she had, which had annoyed her, but she’d been secretly thrilled to find out he could match her intellectually.
“You didn’t need me to get through chemistry, and you know it,” she said.
“But I did. I discovered you’re a good influence on me.” His slow smile took her breath away.
If his goal was to charm her, he was doing a hell of a job. “I thought boys liked girls who were a bad influence on them.”
“Boys do. Men know better.”
Oh, baby. Keeping him at arm’s length would take some doing. They had serious automobile history, and the combined scent of aftershave and leather upholstery was stirring up memories in color with surround sound.
If anything, this experience was even more erotic, because the deep timbre of his voice reminded her that he was older and more experienced now. So was she. If they started something in the back seat of this truck, it wouldn’t be over in a few minutes.
At eighteen she’d had no yardstick, so to speak, for measuring Dustin’s attributes. Now, combining her own experiences with her girlfriends’ tales, she realized that he was really well-endowed. Fortunately she’d been very excited that night, or he could have done serious damage. Instead she’d felt a moment of slight discomfort and then some wonderful sensations that had been over way too soon.
“I’ve missed you,” he said simply.
She wasn’t sure how to respond. You missed someone you felt emotionally close to. Dustin had rocketed through her life and changed her forever, but she’d always recognized the distance between them. He’d been a fantasy then, and he was a fantasy now.
“But obviously you haven’t missed me.” His voice registered disappointment.
She turned more fully toward him. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Dustin.”
He gazed at her for a long moment. “Just what we said. A fresh start.”
“Okay. A fresh start, then.” She had a feeling the situation was more complicated than that, but she decided not to press the matter.
“We’ll talk more about it during lunch.” He reached across her to adjust the air-conditioning vents and brushed her breast with his elbow. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Ha. No problem, indeed. Her nipples had gone on instant alert.
Apparently satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, Dustin eased the truck out of the parking space. She was aware of his every move. He wanted a fresh start, and she couldn’t help wondering if he meant a fresh sexual start. If so, she’d be a much better lover now. But that was adolescent, to think she had to prove something sexually to this guy.
Even if she wanted to do that, she didn’t have the time. As it was she’d have to burn the midnight oil putting together the newsletter. Over lunch she’d find out what kind of company Ramsey Enterprises was these days and get a better handle on why Dustin intrigued her so much.
Maybe his choice of vehicle figured into it. The Mustang had been a souped-up muscle car, and this truck oozed testosterone, too. She preferred fuel-efficient cars, but she couldn’t pretend they were as sexy.
She hadn’t ridden in a truck for a long time, not since her days in Midland. The deep rumble of the engine exuded macho power. Watching Dustin at the wheel of this truck was a completely different experience from riding with her other male friends in their import sedans.
She’d thought she was beyond this sort of obvious symbolism. Then again, maybe not. She’d put herself on the library waiting list so she could borrow the Georgia O’Keefe flower print. Dustin had placed himself in a powerful truck that thrust into traffic with masculine authority.
Maybe her Midland roots were showing. During puberty she’d been exposed to truck-driving cowboy types, so perhaps they’d imprinted on her budding womanhood. What a shame if she couldn’t get excited without throbbing engines, considering how much she disapproved of eight-cylinder gas-guzzlers like this monster.
But facts were facts, and she was turned on by watching Dustin at the wheel of his truck. She sincerely hoped he couldn’t tell that the longer they were together, the more she wanted to strip him naked and jump his bones. While giving him directions to the Fairmont, she kept her voice steady and her eyes on the road. She’d never known men to be good mind readers, so her desperate longing for his virile body could be her little secret.
He navigated the heavy city traffic with ease, handling the truck almost like a sports car as he gunned the engine to switch lanes. She was thrilled down to her painted toe-nails with every aggressive tactic.
The radio station started broadcasting the headlines and he switched it off. “How did you happen to get the idea for the newsletter?”
“From my girlfriends at the Dallas Morning News.” Talking about her work might take her mind off sex. “We were sitting around the break room one day wishing out loud that there could be a singles magazine along the lines of Cosmo that was specifically geared to the Dallas area. I claimed that I could desktop-publish a singles newsletter, and my friends dared me to try.”
“Can’t resist a dare, huh?”
“Depends upon the dare.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re not the type to lose your head and do dumb things.”
I wouldn’t say that. I had my first sexual experience with you. “You make me sound dull and uninteresting.”
“Are you kidding? You were about the most interesting girl in the senior class. Granted, your ideas were sort of strange, but—”
“Not so strange! Time is proving me right, you know. If we don’t wake up, this planet will be ruined.” She was glad he’d slipped and called her ideas strange. Maybe she’d get over her sexual attraction to him, after all.
“Hey, I care about the environment.”
Now she was in familiar territory. “Excuse me if I don’t believe that. You’ve spent years polluting the air with exhaust fumes, just for the fun of it. Of course, with your parents in the oil business, why not? Who cares about air quality when more oil consumption lines your pockets?”
“Do you know what would happen to the economy of this country if everybody thought like you?”
“Dustin, that argument is full of holes. We could switch this economy to alternate fuel and keep it humming along nicely. But that would mean shaking up your comfortable little world, giving up your favorite toys.”
He was silent for so long she was sure she’d offended him. Well, so be it. They were completely different, and they might as well acknowledge that up front.
“Maybe I’m ready to shake up my world,” he said at last.
She glanced at him in surprise.
He shrugged. “As I said, you’re a good influence on me.”
Well, now. This cast a new light on things. He was hinting that she might make a convert of him. To take the son of an oil baron and turn him into a liberal conservationist might be a job worth tackling.
“What’s your position with Ramsey Enterprises, now?” she asked.
“Looks like I’m running the show. My dad had a stroke right after the first of the year and can’t handle the job anymore.”
“Oh, Dustin.” Remorse washed over her. Now wasn’t the time to chide him about his comfortable situation. It was anything but comfortable. She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. That must be very rough.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but maybe it was time I grew up.”
“Forget what I said. I had no idea what you were dealing with.”
“No offense taken.”
She drew her hand away when she realized she’d begun lightly stroking his sleeve. “How is your father?”
“He’s in rehab, and gradually learning to walk again. But his problems with communication are the biggest reason he can’t run the company. He can’t read or write, and he has trouble finding the words he needs when he talks.”
“Thank goodness you have the resources to give him good care.” She worried about her own parents, who were living on a little farm in Ohio and had no health insurance. They claimed healthy living would keep them out of hospitals, but she thought they were skating on thin ice.
“Right,” Dustin said.
Her impression of him was changing by the minute. Ten years ago she’d tried to soothe her broken heart by thinking of Dustin as the dark prince from an evil empire. But rich or poor, when you were the only child of an ailing parent, the worry was still the same.
“They’re doing wonderful things with stroke patients these days,” she said. “With the right therapy, he could have a full recovery.”
“I hope so. But the doctors warned me not to expect it. I have to operate as if he’ll never be in charge of Ramsey Enterprises again.”
“I’ll bet you know more about running the company than you think you do.”
“We’ll see.” He pulled the truck under the portico in front of the Fairmont and handed the keys to the valet with the air of someone who’d done it a million times. No doubt he had. With the same ease he tipped the bellman who helped Erica out of the truck and took Dustin’s overnight bag from the back.
Then Dustin grabbed the dove-gray Stetson that had been lying brim up on the seat and settled it on his head. With that gesture, he suddenly became Dustin Ramsey, heir to the throne of Ramsey Enterprises. She’d do well to remember that, dutiful son or not, he was still aligned with corporate America.
And she was not. Therefore she couldn’t allow herself to be thrilled by a man who knew exactly how to check into a luxury hotel. Maybe for a brief moment, as she walked with him into the flower-decorated lobby, she fantasized spending the night with him here. Even without her deadline looming, that would be a gigantic mistake.
He reserved a room for two nights. Interesting. By tomorrow night she’d have met her deadline. Not that it mattered that she’d have free time then. Of course not.
“You’ll come up with me, won’t you?” He pocketed the folder containing the card key and walked away from the check-in desk. “I’d like to drop off my jacket and briefcase, and there’s no point in having you hang around the lobby waiting for me.”
“Okay.” She walked with him toward the bank of elevators and tried to convince herself there was nothing forbidden or exciting about going up to his room. Hanging around in the lobby like some scared little rabbit would be stupid.
They rode up with a couple of men wearing suits and toting briefcases. Erica stood well apart from Dustin and watched the floors blink by above the elevator doors. No matter how she tried to diffuse the feeling, the little trip upstairs seemed to have sexual liaison written all over it.
She wondered if agreeing to go up to his room had meant more than she’d intended. Ten years ago he’d invited her for a ride in the country, and he’d assumed she’d wanted more than fresh air out of the deal.
Well, if he thought something would happen once they reached the room, he’d better think again. Offering sympathy for his situation with his father was one thing. Losing her head and jumping into bed with him was quite another. She wasn’t the same person he’d dazzled back in high school.
His silence as they walked toward the room was extremely suspicious. Maybe he was busy planning his seduction. She’d bet the great Dustin Ramsey had never been turned down, and he took it for granted that once a woman stepped inside his hotel room, she would go along with his every desire.
By the time he opened the door and ushered her inside, her heart was pounding wildly and her imagination was in overdrive.
The room was hushed and seductive, light filtering through sheer curtains. The bulk of the room was taken up with a king-size bed, a piece of furniture that was impossible to ignore and difficult to take casually. She should have waited in the lobby. Looking like a scared rabbit was preferable to an awkward scene when she refused him.
And she absolutely would refuse him. Her self-esteem required it.
Dustin tossed his jacket across the burgundy-and-green quilted bedspread and put his briefcase on the lacquered desk. “Do you want anything to drink before we go back down?” He opened an armoire. “There’s a courtesy bar in here.”
She could imagine only one reason he’d offer her a drink in the middle of the day in his hotel room. “No, thanks. Dustin, I think we should—”
A knock on the door interrupted her. She waited, fidgeting with her purse strap, while he let the bellman in and tipped him for bringing up the overnight bag.
Once the door closed, she tried again. “I need to ask you something.”
He stowed his bag in the closet. “What’s that?”
“Why did you come to Dallas?”
“I found out about your newsletter and thought franchising would be a great opportunity for both of us.” He closed the closet door.
“That’s it?”
He studied her from across the room. “Why?”
Her heart thudded faster. People didn’t ask why unless they had something they weren’t telling you. “Because I have the feeling that there’s a whole other thing going on. I want to know what it is.”

3
DUSTIN HAD HOPED his dealings with Erica would run a little smoother than this. First of all she hadn’t jumped at the franchise offer. Now she was demanding to know if he had ulterior motives for making the offer. He hadn’t asked Erica up to the room to seduce her. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked her to ride along, other than a desire to keep her close by.
Sure enough, he was drawing strength from her, as he’d thought he would. For the first time since his father’s stroke, he was beginning to feel optimistic about his ability to run the company. That didn’t make sense considering that Erica seemed ready to reject the franchise deal.
But she’d offered him comfort when he’d told her about his dad, the kind of comfort he couldn’t expect from his good-time pals on the racing circuit. She’d also implied that she thought he could handle all these new challenges. He didn’t remember anyone else saying that, not even his mother. Yep, he definitely liked having Erica nearby.
He wouldn’t mind having her even nearer, and she’d picked up on that. But he wasn’t so crude that he’d try to lure her into bed during their first couple of hours together. She didn’t know that, though, and obviously riding up in the elevator had given her time to concoct all kinds of scenarios. He should have made small talk, whether there were other people in the elevator or not. Giving a woman like Erica extra time to think wasn’t a good idea.
Now she was demanding explanations he wasn’t willing to give. He hadn’t decided how honest to be with her about the sex thing. Considering how soon it was into the encounter, he didn’t want to bare his soul and all his insecurities. That time might never come.
She stood silhouetted by the light coming through the sheer draperies. He couldn’t see her face very well, but her rigid posture suggested she was feeling under attack. He would have liked to move closer, but she might interpret that as being too aggressive.
He decided to give her part of the truth and hope that worked out. “You’re right, there’s more to my visit than working out a franchise deal for Dateline: Dallas. That’s a bonus, but it could be a very promising bonus for both of us. I’m dead serious about wanting to expand the newsletter to other cities.”
“You’re not offering me a business deal out of guilt for what happened ten years ago, are you? Because if that’s the reason, I—”
“Not a chance.” He held back a smile. Guilt, hell. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, which temporarily saved him. “There’s no place in business for guilt.” He’d heard that line from his father, although personally he thought his father had many things to feel guilty about. “The offer is legitimate, and I hope you take me up on it.”
Her breasts lifted and quivered as she took a deep breath. “So what else is going on?”
Damned if his mouth didn’t literally water as he imagined uncovering those full breasts and rolling her taut nipples against his tongue. “Ten years ago we obviously were attracted to each other. I was too…well, too young to recognize the potential, but I haven’t been able to forget you.”
That was way more than he’d wanted to say and it left him vulnerable. He didn’t like to appear needy, but that was better than saying he wanted another chance because he’d been a stupid virgin the first time they’d had sex.
She regarded him silently for a long time. Too long.
He finally broke the silence. “Obviously you’ve been able to put me right out of your mind, though,” he said at last. A guy had to salvage a little pride. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a grown-up, and I can put the whole thing aside and focus on business. We can go get some lunch and talk about—”
“I haven’t put you entirely out of my mind, either.”
Thank God. Maybe he wouldn’t end up roadkill, after all. “That’s how you’ve made it seem.”
“I…okay, maybe I have.”
“Playing it cool?”
“Sort of.” A smile flitted across her mouth and was gone. “But I do remember that night, Dustin.”
And it was entirely possible that, whenever she remembered it, she focused on his miserable performance. He hated that. “Look, we really don’t have to get into the subject now. The franchise deal is what we should concentrate on.” He’d been trying to tell himself that, but repairing his sexual record seemed equally important. That only showed that he wasn’t a true businessman like his father.
“You know what? I want to get into this right now.” She sat down on a chair positioned by the window and crossed those beautiful long legs. “I doubt I’ll go for the franchise, but if I thought you were only using it as a way to—”
“I’m not. Swear to God.”
She studied him. “I guess I’ve never fully trusted someone who has a lot of money. They can use it to manipulate situations.”
What a joke. Little did she know that he couldn’t do that even if he wanted to. But admitting his shaky financial status might make her shy away from throwing in with him. Accepting her sympathy regarding his dad was okay, but he didn’t want her sympathy when it came to the money crunch.
He cleared his throat. “So you’re afraid I would franchise your newsletter in order to get you into bed?”
“Would you?”
“No. That’s sleazy. I’m sorry you think I would stoop to that kind of thing.”
“I don’t think it’s so hard to imagine.” She used her captain-of-the-debate-team voice. “Which came first, finding me or discovering the newsletter?”
This conversation wasn’t going to end for a while. He decided to walk over and sit on the side of the bed so he could face her. By moving closer, he could judge her expression better. Maybe he’d lose the feeling that he was on a runaway train. “Finding you.”
“And why were you looking for me?”
He sighed. “This will sound lame, but it all goes back to chemistry.”
“Aha! That’s what I—”
“Chemistry class.”
She stared at him.
“In the months since my dad’s stroke, I’ve felt this growing sense of panic that I was in over my head, that I couldn’t manage the company. And I—”
“Doesn’t your dad have assistants, secretaries, people who can help you catch up?”
He shook his head. “Clayton Ramsey didn’t delegate. He was also a hard guy to work for, and no secretary stayed for long. The last one quit and moved to Alaska right before he had his stroke.” Dustin decided not to add that his father hadn’t paid those secretaries enough to get decent ones or make them feel any sense of loyalty. The office was still a mess from the last secretary’s slipshod work.
“Anyway,” he continued, “to say that I don’t feel confident is an understatement. My successes have come on the football field and the racetrack. The only time I’ve accepted an intellectual challenge was in that chemistry class with you. When I said you were a good influence on me, I wasn’t kidding.”
“You want me to help you run the company?” Her eyes widened. “Dustin, I’m not remotely qualified.”
“No, I’m not asking for that. I want…” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to run the company. Come hell or high water, I’m going to accomplish that. But Ramsey Enterprises needs to diversify so that it’s not so dependent on oil.”
“Ah. Middle Eastern oil is cutting into your profits.”
“Yes.” Wiping out his profits was more like it. He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d have information on that. She was a journalist. “I thought you might have some ideas to offer, and when I found out about the newsletter, I had the brainstorm that it could be the start of Ramsey’s diversification program.” He glanced at her.
“My little newsletter?”
“It’s growing, and it could grow bigger.” Apparently his business degree hadn’t been a total waste of time, because he’d recognized a potential gold mine when he saw one. “Every major city in the country is a potential market. That’s not a little concept.”
With a self-deprecating smile, she relaxed back into the chair. “And here I thought it was all about sex.”
He had a split second to make a decision. “Actually, it is.”
She sat up with a jolt. “But—”
“Everything I’ve told you so far is the absolute truth, but there’s more.”
Her throat moved in a slow swallow. “Then I guess…you’d better tell me.”
“The thing is, ten years ago, when we…well, it wasn’t exactly perfect.” He looked into her eyes. “Was it?”
Her gaze was wary. “Well, maybe not, but I think we could blame that on the beer.”
“Yeah. Sure. But I remember how much we both…how excited we were. That’s mostly what’s bothered me all these years. It should have been a better experience.”
“We were young.”
“Exactly.” He took a deep breath. “I know this will sound outrageous, but…I can do better. I’d like a chance to prove it.”

ERICA USUALLY HAD a comeback for everything. In fact, she could count on one hand the times she’d been stricken speechless. No question, this would rank as the most memorable. Never in a trillion years could she have predicted those words would come out of Dustin Ramsey’s mouth.
Finally she found her voice. “You want a do-over?”
“Yes. No. Well, in a way. Damn, I had no idea this would be so—”
“I am incredibly flattered.” And unbelievably aroused.
“But you’re not interested. People always start a rejection speech by saying they’re flattered, but they couldn’t possibly do whatever it is. Listen, don’t worry about it. You wanted to know what the other part to this was, and now you know. We can forget the whole thing and concentrate on the franchise.”
“Forget the whole thing? You must be joking.”
He groaned. “I’ve screwed it up. Now you won’t consider the franchise because all you’ll be able to think about is that I asked you to have sex with me. But I couldn’t lie to you, Erica. I respect you too much for that.”
She took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. Dustin wanted to franchise her newsletter, but he also wanted to give her an orgasm. He hadn’t said it quite like that, but that’s what he meant. She was still trying to process the idea that he’d worried about their less-than-wonderful night for all these years and had taken the responsibility for that failure.
That said so much about him. She’d blamed her inexperience, but he hadn’t. And now he wanted to show her that he’d improved. Amazing that he’d even care about her opinion. Even more amazing that his own self-image seemed to depend on getting it right with her. She’d never possessed such power over a man in her life.
She would handle it carefully. “If we…had sex, assuming we’d both be better at it this time, what would that achieve?”
He gazed at her for several seconds. “Every time I think of you, I remember that night and cringe. I want to fix that.”
“You make it sound like a loose wheel on one of your race cars.”
“You’re kidding, but that’s not such a bad way to describe the feeling I have.”
She still had trouble comprehending that their silly little experience had affected him this much. “You can’t simply forget it?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. It probably doesn’t bother you at all, but it’s been driving me nuts for years.”
What a concept. She loved it. “Okay, I’ll admit that it bothers me a little, too.” She wasn’t ready to say that it had haunted her for ten years. She hadn’t allowed herself to think that way.
“See? It’ll always be an obstacle between us unless we do something to change it.” He glanced down at the carpet. “I shouldn’t have avoided you like I did after that night, but I was only eighteen and…mortally embarrassed about the lousy sex.”
“That’s why you didn’t call me?” She thought of the weeks of misery she’d endured. “Embarrassment?”
He looked up at her again and nodded. “Sorry.”
“I thought once you’d scored, you weren’t interested anymore!” And she still wasn’t convinced that hadn’t been a part of it. Maybe he was revising history to suit his current predicament.
“Then you must have a pretty rotten opinion of me. I suppose you classify me with the guys your readers write about, like the one who wouldn’t take time to satisfy Frustrated Franny.”
Her body grew warm and restless. “I see you noticed what was on my computer screen.”
“I couldn’t help being curious. Do you see a lot of that? Guys who aren’t willing to give as good as they get?”
The topic was making her squirm in her chair as she fought down her body’s response. “A fair amount. First women have to realize they’re entitled to good sex, and then they have to educate the guy. It’s an evolving situation, but I think the word’s getting out.”
“Thanks to people like you.” His blue gaze grew more intent. “Don’t you think helping couples find greater sexual satisfaction is important?”
“The column’s only a small part of the newsletter.” She couldn’t seem to stop staring into his eyes, eyes that made her feel sexually alive. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. “Mostly it’s about restaurants, nightclubs, date-worthy attractions around the city.”
“And why do you suppose the newsletter is so popular? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not because of the date-worthy attractions, although I’m sure you provide a good service there, too.”
“Well, I’m sure people like the column, but—”
“Listen, I have two racing buddies who subscribe to Dateline: Dallas. They might tell everybody else it’s for the restaurant reviews, but they admitted to me that the first thing they read is your column. Guys don’t like to be obvious about picking up sexual information, so this is a way to do it on the sly. You tell one reader how to help her guy last longer, and a hundred guys will make a greater effort to do that.”
And if they kept up this discussion, she was liable to throw herself at him and beg for that do-over. He’d already promised to give her satisfaction.
She cleared her throat. “I think we’re getting off track.”
“Not really. You’ve spent ten years thinking I’m the kind of coldhearted guy who would take what I wanted and dump you. We can’t renew our friendship if that’s what you think of me. I need to clear up that impression.”
“I could simply take your word for it.”
He shook his head slowly and smiled. “What happened between you and me was physical. It’ll take a physical act to override our memory of it.”
Oh, boy, she was ready for that physical act. Fortunately her brain was still in gear. “Dustin, this is insane.”
“Why?”
“With all those expectations, sex between us would be a disaster.”
His smile broadened. “When it comes to physical challenges, I perform well under pressure.”
Her nerve endings hummed. “I can’t imagine how we could relax and enjoy ourselves, knowing that this was some sort of test, each of us trying to outperform the other.”
“You’d be trying to outperform me?”
Now there was a stupid slip. “Well, no, of course not.” Being around a jock must be awakening her competitive urges.
“Tell you what. Let’s go have lunch and you can think it over.”
“I have thought it over, and I think it’s crazy.”
He stood. “Think some more. In the meantime, I’m starving. All I’ve had to eat since five this morning is one Fig Newman.”

SEATED IN A SECLUDED little West End restaurant booth across from Erica, Dustin ate barbecue and Erica munched on a veggie sandwich. She’d told him that reviewing required her to taste a variety of things, so she’d eaten off his plate, too. She preferred the veggie sandwich.
He and Erica were different. He’d shrivel up and die on a diet of sprouts and tofu, while that was her favorite. She only ate meat because she had to, for the restaurant review. Although he didn’t always understand or agree with her preferences, he admired her convictions. He always had. In fact, he enjoyed playing Texas good ol’ boy, just to get her on a soapbox.
When she’d ordered a local microbrew made from organic grain, he’d deliberately asked for a Bud. At the moment, she was trying to convince him to invest Ramsey money in the microbrewery. He liked the idea of making a profit on beer, but he had his doubts about the organic part, which jacked up the price considerably.
She was persuasive, though, and he loved the passionate way she argued a point. The more time he spent with her, the more he became convinced that he’d done exactly the right thing by seeking her out. When they’d hooked up in chemistry class, she’d been the first girl to treat him as if he had potential to succeed at something besides football. Up until then, his ambitions hadn’t stretched much beyond winning chugalug contests and the state football championship.
But then he’d pushed his luck and taken her for a drive in the country. After that dismal failure he’d avoided Erica, which resulted in a return to his old lazy mental habits. Now his only option was to retrace his steps, get on a better footing with Erica and move forward from there.
She really was good for him. He’d like to believe he could be good for her, too. With her initiative, she could reap benefits from the economic system she liked to criticize. They both could reap benefits of a more personal nature if she’d allow it.
“Just try the beer,” she said, holding out the bottle she’d been drinking from.
He liked the idea of putting his mouth where hers had recently been. His fingers brushed hers as he took the bottle and awareness flashed in her eyes. Good. She was still thinking about his proposition.
Holding her gaze, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.
“Well?” She looked at him expectantly.
“I like it. Rich and good.” Exactly the way sex would be with her. He imagined he could taste the flavor of her mouth along with the beer. Handing the bottle back, he watched as she sipped from it again. Drinking from the same bottle was a start.
“So you’ll think about that as a potential investment?”
“Sure. I’ll look into it. But organic beer doesn’t have sex appeal. Your newsletter does. And you know what they say. Sex sells.”
She made a face. “I thought you wanted to educate people, not capitalize on the sexual content of the newsletter.”
“What’s wrong with doing both?”
“Spoken like a true capitalist. I just don’t happen to care about making gobs of money.” She took another sip of her beer. “And I honestly don’t see myself publishing this newsletter for much longer. Some job will open up for me in the next six months, as the economy improves.”
“You’re passing up a golden opportunity.”
She regarded him from across the table, her gray eyes sparkling. “Are we still talking about the franchise?”
He grinned.
“You’re such a flirt. I have to admit you’re arousing my curiosity.”
“And that’s all?”
She didn’t comment, just smiled back at him.
He was sure his sexual longing showed right on his face. Fortunately she couldn’t see under the table, where even more evidence lurked. He took another bite of his barbecue.
“I still wonder exactly how you found me,” she said. “I’ve lost touch with everyone in Midland. If the reunion committee couldn’t locate me, how did you?”
He chewed and swallowed the spicy beef, taking his time while he thought of how to answer. If he told her, she’d know how obsessed he’d been with tracking her down. He’d hoped to keep from mentioning the extent of his search, but now that she’d asked, he had to level with her. “I hired a private investigator.”
“Get outta here! You hired a P.I. to find me? I can’t believe that!”
Sometimes he had a hard time believing it, too. “When I get an idea in my head, I can be…stubborn.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Apparently.”
“I’d hoped you’d be at the reunion, but when you weren’t, I had to figure out something else.”
“You really and truly had a private eye tailing me?” She looked intrigued.
Maybe telling her wasn’t such a bad thing. “I did.”
“This is beginning to sound like a movie.”
“Well, if you’re thinking of a guy wearing a trench coat and a snap-brim fedora, that wasn’t happening. Jennifer Madison operates out of Midland and she found you using the Internet, with her two-month-old baby asleep in the crib next to her.”
Erica frowned in concentration. “Jennifer Madison. I know that name.” Then she snapped her fingers. “She subscribes to Dateline: Dallas. I wondered why she be interested, living in Midland. So Jennifer Madison is a private eye.”
“Yep. And a good one.”
“A private eye with a baby and a computer. That is sort of anticlimactic. I was picturing reruns of Magnum P.I. It wouldn’t be so bad to be watched by the likes of Tom Selleck in his younger days. Actually, he’s still pretty cute.”
“Sorry.” Actually he wasn’t sorry at all. He wouldn’t have hired someone who looked like Tom Selleck in the first place. “It’s the electronic age.”
“Even so, it’s quite a concept, to think that you actually hired a person to dig around until they located me. I’ve never been tailed before.”
“So…you’re not upset?”
Leaning back in the booth, she gazed at him. “I suppose I could look at it as another example of how people with money operate differently from the rest of us. You wanted to find me so you thought nothing of hiring it done.”
“As a last resort.” And he’d considered the expense more carefully than she’d ever know.
“But the truth is, this is very good for my ego. I thought I was nothing more than a notch in your belt, and here you are hiring a P.I. to track me down ten years later.”
He winced at her interpretation of his behavior ten years ago. “I’m not a belt-notch kind of guy. That’s what I’m trying to—”
“You could be a scorekeeper, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“What exactly was wrong with the sex between us?”
“Well, um—” He took a fortifying swallow of his Bud. “It was over too fast, for one thing.”
Her gray eyes held his relentlessly. “Some people think quickies are great.”
“They are, if both people are satisfied at the end.” He was glad they were seated in a back booth and the place was nearly empty.
Still he didn’t feel totally secure about having this conversation right now. The restaurant owner, a guy named Henry, had popped back several times to make sure the food was good. He could show up again and catch part of what they were saying.
She continued to challenge him with her eyes. “And your point is?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You didn’t come, Erica. That’s what was wrong with it.”
She mirrored his posture, leaning toward him and resting her arms on either side of her plate. “And I suppose all the rest of your sexual partners have come?”
“Damn right they have.” He was proud of that. In some cases he’d given them the first orgasm of their lives.
She settled back with a victorious smile. “See what I mean?” she said softly. “I’m lousing up your perfect score.”
“That’s not the point, damn it.” Okay, it was a small part of the point. But not the biggest part of the point.
“I say it is. You’re a jock, and jocks can’t help keeping score.”
“That is not true. It’s not about the numbers. Every guy probably has one woman he didn’t have any success with, sexually. I could live with that. I just don’t want that woman to be you.”
“Why not?”
“Out of all the people I’ve had sex with, you’re the one I respected the most.” Until he said it out loud, he hadn’t realized how true it was.
Her gaze flickered. “Sounds like there’s been quite a lineup.”
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” There had been quite a lineup, but none of the experiences had meant as much as that night in the back of his Mustang. And he’d botched that. “I just want to show you that I’m capable of doing it right.”
She leaned toward him again. “You know what? I think you’re turning this into more of a production than you need to. If giving me an orgasm is all you need to feel better about everything, we don’t have to stage an elaborate bedroom scene.”
“We don’t?”
“Nope. I don’t have time for that, anyway. I’m on a tight deadline for the newsletter and I have to work straight through until noon tomorrow if I expect to get it put together.”
“I understand that.” The gleam in her eyes made him nervous. “But I’m here through tomorrow night.”
“Why wait?” she murmured. “If this is so important to you, why don’t we take care of it right now?”
His mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?”
She moved to the far corner of the booth and patted the vinyl seat next to her. “Scoot on over here, cowboy. Let’s even the score.”

4
ERICA WAS REASONABLY SURE Dustin would back down before her challenge. He had a whole other strategy mapped out that involved both of them getting naked, and this suggestion wouldn’t fit his preconceived idea. So she’d get credit for being a bold, swinging chick without having to follow through.
All her years of debate strategy were paying off, judging by the startled look in his eyes. Do the unexpected and gain the advantage. His phone call had been totally out of the blue, so he’d had the advantage in the beginning. By confessing that he’d been thinking about her for ten years, he’d lost a good part of that advantage, though.
Now his advantage was completely gone. Obviously she’d shocked him down to the toes of his expensive snakeskin boots.
His throat moved in a convulsive swallow. “I…that’s not what I—”
“How are you two coming along?” Henry sauntered back to the booth. “Are you saving room for dessert?”
Erica felt a naughty thrill knowing what she and Dustin had been discussing right before the portly restaurant owner showed up. She’d bet that Dustin was dealing with a major erection right now. The thought made her go all squishy inside, but she didn’t really want to make out in a restaurant booth. Of course not.
Sliding back to the middle of her seat, she gave Henry a broad smile as she glanced up at him. “Dessert sounds wonderful.”
“Terrific.” Henry clasped his hands in front of him. “We have mud pie, an unbelievable hot-fudge sundae, a raspberry cheesecake that’s out of this world, and pecan pie to die for. Why don’t I bring all of them and let you sample to your heart’s content?”
“Sounds like a great idea.” Erica looked over at Dustin and somehow managed to keep her face straight. “Are you up for that?”
He coughed. “Um, sure.”
“May I clear your plates?” Henry asked.
“You can take mine,” Erica said. “And it was delicious, Henry. Even the barbecue, and you know I’m not much of a carnivore.”
“I thought I’d tempt you with that sauce,” Henry said. “Be sure and mention the sauce in the review. We’re known for that.”
“I’ll be sure and mention the sauce.” Erica reached over to Dustin’s plate, swiped up a bit with her finger and licked it off, totally on purpose. She’d never been this motivated to sexually taunt a guy. “A taste that yummy should be illegal.”
Henry beamed. “My mom’s secret recipe.” He turned toward Dustin. “Sir, do you want to keep your plate?”
“No, that’s okay.” Dustin’s voice sounded gravelly. “You can take it.” He cleared his throat again. “It was very good, though.”
“A positive review in Dateline: Dallas guarantees increased traffic.” He picked up Dustin’s plate. “I’ve been trying to get Erica in here for months.” He glanced at her. “And the review will be out Saturday, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ll write it this afternoon.”
“Cool. I’ve scheduled everybody to work Saturday night, to handle the crowd. More beer for either of you?”
“One beer’s all I can handle if I’m going to make my deadline,” Erica said, “but iced tea would be nice.”
Henry looked at Dustin. “And what can I get for you?”
“The same, thanks.”
“Good deal. Be right back.”
After he left, Erica gazed at Dustin in silence, waiting to see if he’d say anything more about her outrageous suggestion.
“You weren’t serious about it, were you?” he asked at last.
“What makes you think I wasn’t serious?”
“Well, for one thing, Henry keeps wandering back here.”
She’d honestly forgotten about Henry, but that didn’t matter, because Dustin wouldn’t take her up on her offer. “The possibility of discovery increases the excitement,” she said, continuing to have fun with him. “I did one issue on restaurants where it would be possible to fool around. I keep getting requests for reprints of that issue.”
“Did you test out the restaurants personally?”
“I’ll take the Fifth on that.” Sadly enough, the guy she’d been dating at the time hadn’t had an adventurous bone in his body. When she’d tried to fondle him under the table, he’d insisted they leave the restaurant.
“I’ll bet you did it. Which is exactly what I’d expect of you. You’re one gutsy woman.”
She was pleased with that assessment. Maybe Dustin would go back to Midland and think about her for another ten years. This time she’d be able to visualize him pining away, and that would be sweet, indeed.
“Here we are—decadence personified.” Henry appeared and unloaded three dessert plates, a tall hot-fudge sundae and two iced teas.
“Positively sinful.” Erica winked at Dustin.
“Use that in the review,” Henry said. “Just say my sauce oughta be illegal and my desserts are positively sinful. I’ll have a line clear down the street Saturday night.”
“I hope you do.” Erica surveyed the banquet of sweets and decided to put a little more pressure on Dustin. “Thanks, Henry. You know what else I like about this place?”
“The charming owner?”
She smiled at him. Henry was gay, so she knew he wasn’t even remotely hitting on her. “Definitely. And also the fact that the service is discreet. You don’t hover over us while we eat. You leave us alone to enjoy our food.”
Henry flushed with obvious pleasure. “I try to treat people the way I’d like to be treated. I make sure they don’t need anything, but once I’m sure they’re all set, I disappear. Most people like a little privacy to enjoy their meal.”
“You’re smart to realize that,” Erica said.
“That said, I’ll leave you two to your desserts.” Henry bowed slightly. “Bon appétit.”
Once he was gone, Erica trained her gaze on Dustin. “Take whatever appeals to you.”
His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Did you do that on purpose?”
She played dumb. “Order dessert?”
“Let Henry know that we wanted to be left alone.”
She pulled the hot-fudge sundae toward her and dipped a spoon into the whipped cream. “You seemed worried about Henry running back here all the time, so I decided to remove that obstacle for you.” She licked the whipped cream from the edge of the spoon. Then she waved it over the table full of goodies. “Have some dessert.”
Dustin pulled the cheesecake plate in front of him. “I’ll bet if I came over there you’d freak.”
“Try me.” She picked the cherry up by its stem and dangled it above her mouth before plopping it inside. She was giddy with power. Dustin was squirming in his seat and wondering if she was as wild as she seemed to be. Sweet.
He grabbed a fork and ate the cheesecake automatically, shoveling it in like a robot unaware of what he was doing. “I should call your bluff.”
Pulling the cherry with her teeth, she twirled the stem between her fingers as she chewed and swallowed. Her heart hammered, but she kept her tone casual. “Assuming I’m bluffing.” This was the most fun she’d ever had in her entire life. All this teasing was giving her quite a buzz.
“You’re bluffing. You might have done something in a dark restaurant at night, but this is the middle of the day.” He finished the cheesecake and started on the mud pie. “No way would you go through with it.”
“Whatever you say.” Digging out some hot fudge, she left the spoon poised over the dish so the warm chocolate dribbled over the whipped cream. “You’re the one who said we couldn’t be friends if you didn’t give me an orgasm. I’m only trying to accommodate you.”
He paused, his fork in midair, and watched the hot fudge ooze from the tip of her spoon. In what looked like an unconscious gesture, he ran his tongue over his lips. “Tell me again when you’ll be finished with the newsletter?”
“I have to put it to bed, as we say, by noon tomorrow. I got behind this week so I’ll probably pull an all-nighter to get it done.” She turned the spoon upside down and slid it into her mouth as she held his gaze.
“Will you be free after that?”
She sucked the hot fudge from the spoon and slid it back out of her mouth. “I’ll have to check my calendar. I might have a date tomorrow night.” She didn’t. She’d broken up with Brian two months ago, and nobody promising had appeared on the horizon since then. But she had to protect herself, or she was liable to end up in Dustin’s hotel room tomorrow night.
Although she’d been an easy conquest once upon a time, she wouldn’t make that mistake again. No matter what he might say to the contrary, this could be all about the chase. Once she gave him what he wanted, he could easily drop her again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
His voice was husky with leashed tension. “You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you?”
She gestured with her spoon as she leaned toward him. “I’m trying to show you that this is an impossible situation you’re trying to set up. You can’t ride into my life after ten years and expect me to fall into bed with you so that you can have a perfect record with the ladies.”
“So you won’t see me tomorrow night?”
“I might, if I don’t have a date. But we have to have an understanding that I won’t go to bed with you. That would put way too much pressure on both of us.” And might leave me open to another painful rejection.
“All right.”
She was a little disappointed that he’d give up the campaign that easily, but she smiled as if pleased with his decision. “Good. Then we understand each other. I think eventually you’ll see that—” She paused as he eased out of the booth. “What are you doing?”
“Move over. I’m taking you up on your earlier offer.”
“Uh…” The spoon dropped from her fingers and clattered to the table.
He sat on the edge of her seat, his thigh brushing hers, his arm over the back of the vinyl seat. His mouth was inches from hers, his scent surrounded her, bringing a surge of memories. “Lost your nerve?” he murmured.

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