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Going All the Way
Tanya Michaels


Being more than friends has its benefits!One year ago Serena Donavan and her best friend, David Grant, shared an incredibly hot night – but she made it clear that was a one-time thing. It was easy to stay away from him when they were living in different states. But David's returning to Atlanta for good…and Serena's more than in the mood for a repeat performance!No matter how hard he's tried, David can't forget the evening he made love with Serena. The chemistry was indescribable. Despite what Serena thinks, it's not just sex he wants–he wants her. Completely. Since he doesn't give up easily, David plans to convince her to stop holding back and give them everything she's got. But can he get her to go all the way?









“I can’t remember when I didn’t want you, Serena.”


The wind caught a few strands of her hair, and David brushed them back, resting his hand on her cheek. “And if you think I’m relaxed, well…”

He glanced downward, and she followed his gaze. Hello. Even the thickness of the denim couldn’t hide the erection straining against his zipper.

It was in a desire-blurred haze that Serena registered him laying her back on the soft blanket, pressing his weight against her. He surprised her by taking her hand and placing it against her breast, which ached for attention, the pebbled peak thrusting forward.

“Other women don’t affect me like this. Just you. And I don’t believe other men make you feel this way.”

Definitely not. Serena stared into his eyes, but couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth.

“Do you get this aroused with anyone else, Serena? This hot?”

It was a guess on his part, but an accurate one. She was hot and she was ready for more….


Dear Reader,

My author motto is Passion, Laughter and Happily Ever After. I work to include these elements in all of my books, but no couple I've written about before has shared a passion quite as intense as Serena Donavan and David Grant’s.

Friends since college, Serena and David had a very hot one-night stand the last time he visited her in Georgia, and though neither of them can forget the intimate encounter, Serena insists it was a mistake. She’s free spirited and easygoing in many ways, but her past has left her guarded about serious relationships—especially with someone like David, whose affluent corporate lifestyle is very different from her own. Now, with his company relocating to Atlanta, David has the perfect chance to reignite the sparks between him and Serena. When he hires her to help organize a charity auction his company is sponsoring, his ulterior motive is to seduce her into taking a chance on love. And seduce her he does.

I hope you’ll visit my Web site at www.tanyamichaels.com to read more about how your purchase of this book helps raise money to fight breast cancer, like the bachelor auction my heroine and hero plan, and I hope you enjoy watching Serena and David find their way to happily ever after.

Best wishes,

Tanya Michaels




Books by Tanya Michaels


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

968—HERS FOR THE WEEKEND

986—SHEER DECADENCE


Going All the Way

Tanya Michaels






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter 1 (#u2bbe51ec-62f7-5330-b475-519b5e704997)

Chapter 2 (#u6c1109c7-bad3-51e1-8654-2811800fbcb1)

Chapter 3 (#uf77dfdf6-c7a8-56a7-a8d7-d126a082b81f)

Chapter 4 (#u419f3a7a-5009-5336-be75-30e5a5a752ca)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)




1


DAVID GRANT didn’t believe in signs—unless of course they happened to suit his purpose, as was the case this April morning. The fact that his employers had voted to transfer their corporate headquarters to Atlanta of all places was definitely a good omen.

“Congratulations, David.” Lou Innes, the I in AGI VoiceTech, polished his glasses with a linen handkerchief as he beamed at David from the opposite end of the conference table. The announcement that David would move from Boston to Georgia and spearhead the relocation also came with an almost guaranteed earlier-than-anticipated vice-presidential promotion. “I’m sure you’re already working on exciting plans for our new location.”

“Yes, sir.” David flashed the confident grin he’d inherited from a long line of Grants. “I certainly am.”

Atlanta offered unparalleled opportunity. Especially for David’s love life.

When he’d gone to his parents’ anniversary bash in Savannah last summer, he’d scheduled an extra day to spend with his best friend in Atlanta, as he’d been doing ever since he and Serena Donavan had attended Georgia Tech together. Normally on these layovers, Serena subjected him to whatever little hole-in-the-wall restaurant she was currently enamored with, and they caught up on any happenings they hadn’t covered by e-mail. The next day, he would catch a cab to Hartsfield and fly back to Boston. His August visit had followed the familiar pattern.

Except, after the hole-in-the-wall restaurant and before the cab to the airport, they’d spent one incredible stormy night making love in Serena’s studio loft apartment. That was new. According to the tense un-Serena-like e-mail that had awaited him when he got home, it had also been a mistake.

David disagreed. But with her stubborn streak, he’d need patience and finesse to bring her around to his way of thinking. Luckily, he had both.

Their first few exchanges following his trip had been awkward, and he sensed she would have avoided talking to him if he hadn’t initiated contact. But as their friendship slowly resumed its former flirtatious tone, he’d been confident that, while he could have made faster progress in person, time was on his side. Then, right before he was scheduled to be in Georgia for Thanksgiving, she’d surprised him by announcing she’d started seeing someone.

As an overachiever who thought nothing of clocking sixty-hour weeks, David was used to his hard work paying off—this morning was a perfect example of the success he usually enjoyed.

With the meeting adjourned, the executives around the rectangular table began to disband, and the president of finance, Richard Gunn, approached, a wide grin beneath his graying moustache. “Congratulations. I don’t have to tell you how rare it is that we give opportunities like this to someone as comparatively new to the company, but there’s no question you’re the man for the job.”

“Thanks.” David stood to shake the older man’s hand. At thirty-three, David wasn’t exactly fresh from college, but he knew he was younger than the other candidates they’d considered for the relocation. “I’ll give it my all.”

“We’d expect nothing less of you.”

He’d never given them reason to—he’d been proving himself ever since his grad-school interview with the communications technology partnership of Andrews, Gunn and Innes. David had been eager to be a part of the strides the company was making in the field of voice-related software, and he’d been pleased by the fact that the firm was in Massachusetts. David had deliberately looked outside the southeast to make his mark, which made him something of an exception in his family.

The Grants of Savannah often had things handed to them by virtue of their social status and wealth, but he enjoyed the challenge of relying on his merits rather than on his name. A definite contrast to his older brother, Ben, who had made it clear that when he ran for Congress next year, he planned to milk his connection to the two previous Senators Grant for all it was worth. But David looked forward to returning to Georgia now and demonstrating just how successful he could be on his own.

“Do you have plans for lunch?” Richard asked. “In light of your possible promotion, I might even consider picking up the tab. Unless you’d rather celebrate with the lovely Tiffany? I’d ditch me for her any day of the week.”

“Actually, Tiff and I, um, decided to part ways over the weekend.” Tiffany had decided, anyway. David had been rather bemused when she broke up with him…mostly because he hadn’t realized they were dating.

Richard frowned at his gaffe. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s for the best. I’m about to move, and Tiffany will find someone more suited to her in no time.”

Tiffany Jode was intelligent, gorgeous and the heiress to a small fortune—small as compared to national budgets. She and David ran in the same social circles and had ended up in bed on several enjoyable occasions. But the evenings they’d spent together had as often been a product of coincidence as of deliberate planning, and he’d never thought of Tiffany and himself as a couple. So he certainly hadn’t seen the breakup coming. He’d mentioned a few weeks ago that the AGI partners were considering Atlanta for their new headquarters, and that he’d enjoy returning to Georgia, if given the chance. On Saturday, when the subject had come up over their lunch at Turner Fisheries, she’d grown silent, barely touching the nearly famous clam chowder. On the way back to her place she asked if he’d even once considered inviting her to move South with him.

An immediate and unintentionally appalled no hadn’t been the answer she’d wanted.

“Ah, well.” Richard clapped David on the arm. “You’re a young man with plenty of other options. And there’s a lot to be said for the bachelor existence.”

Yes, there was. David had led a rich and varied social life for the last few years, work permitting. He enjoyed women. Even if lately he’d been subconsciously comparing them to the one who had pushed him away.

“Lunch sounds good,” David said, lifting his charcoal suit jacket from where it hung on the back of his chair.

“Excellent. I’ll have Francine call ahead to get us a table at the club. Meet you in about an hour?”

That gave David just enough time to finish outlining a report he was supposed to summarize this week and maybe read a few e-mails. But after he’d returned to his office, all he could think about was his impending return to the land of peaches, bad traffic and sexy Southern women. He hadn’t mentioned to his family that he might be moving back. He knew they’d be excited about his being just a few hours from home, and he’d wanted to wait until he knew for sure.

Now, he could tell them he was not only moving, but that before this time next year, he would quite probably take over as AGI’s Vice President of Business Development. The current VP had lived in Boston his entire life and had no desire to relocate now, within a few years of retirement, whereas David was young, ambitious and had contacts in the southeast. The partners could have put the move in the hands of Richard Gunn, who would also eventually transfer to Atlanta, while Andrews and Innes remained in Boston running the technological development side of the company. But obviously they wanted to give David this chance to prove himself.

He savored the thought of announcing the promotion to his proud family. Much as he loved them, he reveled in the knowledge that they hadn’t exercised any of their considerable influence to get him the position.

David had e-mailed Serena about the possibility of relocation, but in a vague, almost hypothetical way. When her “oh, that might be nice” response hadn’t exactly denoted her jumping for joy in front of her computer monitor, he’d strategically dropped the subject. I just didn’t want to jinx my chances at the leadership role. Not that he believed in jinxes…unless it was convenient.

He could call her now, he thought, as he glanced through his window at the soft rain that had begun to fall. April showers were hardly rare (hence the popular term), and the undoubtedly chilly mist outside bore no resemblance to the summer deluge that had taken him and Serena by surprise. Still, considering the way she’d been crowding his thoughts since the news this morning, it didn’t take much to bring that August downpour to mind.

They’d started the evening at an outdoor café in her eccentric neighborhood. Sharing a bottle of wine, they’d talked about being single, swapping progressively naughty anecdotes about their love lives before the unexpected storm sent them fleeing to her apartment, a renovated building that had once been a public school.

David had been sexually aware of her since he’d first seen her years ago arguing with someone in Student Affairs. But throughout their college friendship, which had begun while he briefly dated her roommate, one or both of them was usually involved with someone else, up until the time David had gone to Boston. Most of Serena’s boyfriends—such as the current touring artist David had dubbed the Happy Wanderer—were David’s polar opposites. So, when he’d spontaneously kissed her in her apartment, it had been without the usual Savannah Grant guarantee of getting what he wanted. He hadn’t been absolutely one-hundred-percent sure she’d kiss him back.

But she had. And then some. She’d gone from a flirtatious friend he met for a few annual dinners to a blond siren with glinting brown eyes and a body like hot satin.

His memories played in digitized HiDef with surround-sound: the wanton invitation in her body as she’d reclined across that ridiculous purple couch of hers—a couch he hadn’t been so inclined to mock the next morning—the glow of her ivory skin and the tiny gold navel ring illuminated by flashes of lightning. The feel of her beneath his hands and mouth as he’d conducted a slow, teasingly soft exploration in direct contrast to the urgently pounding rain on the roof above them.

It had been sexual nirvana, and when his plane had touched down the next day at Logan, he’d already been thinking about how soon he could get back to Atlanta—not that they’d discussed seeing each other again. They’d overslept, and he’d barely caught a cab in enough time to make his flight. Then he’d come home to that damn e-mail that professed her longstanding “affection” for him and ended with the insistence that they resume a platonic friendship.

Since her announcement that she’d started dating Happy, David had dated plenty, too. He’d had a good time, but he’d yet to reexperience the explosive chemistry he’d shared with Serena. He supposed they’d never know what would have happened if she hadn’t been “too busy” to see him when he’d returned to Georgia for the holidays.

Now, he’d be returning permanently. David grinned at the possibilities. Yes, Serena was strong-willed and in a quasi-relationship. But David was a Savannah Grant, and judging by this morning’s signs, he had to conclude the universe was on his side.

Had she reconsidered the platonic guidelines in the months since he’d last seen her? Did she think of their night together? How would the sexual innuendo that had crept back into their e-mails translate to a face-to-face meeting?

Only one way to find out.

SERENA DONAVAN’S computer screen displayed the spreadsheets for this month’s income and expenses, but the information there was depressing enough that she was mostly staring out through the reception area’s picture window into the tiled hallway. For a Friday, today had pretty much sucked. Should’ve worn my lucky earrings.

The two-room office suite with its eclectic furniture might not be posh, but the near-Buckhead address for her self-owned business wasn’t cheap. She needed more lucrative offers than the earlier fraternity request, asking if she’d exchange her party-organizing services for beer—or, even less likely, for the amorous attentions of a post-grad who claimed he could ruin her for other men.

On the bright side, the slow business day meant her assistant’s absence wasn’t a strain, but it also meant reduced chances of a profit this month. Or electricity next month. Since Serena had to shell out money for caterers and deejays ahead of time, she was the one in a crunch if clients missed a payment or, in the case of this morning’s thrilling news, bounced a check.

When the phone rang, Serena mentally crossed her fingers. She settled the headset behind her ear, summoning her optimism as she pressed the call-intercept button. Even another dead-end inquiry was better than her bank informing her that her account was being charged for someone else’s insufficient funds. She’d have to ask her father, the southeast regional manager of a bank chain, about the logic behind that penalty.

“Inventive Events,” she said with a smile, trying to infuse her words with the right blend of bold creativity and competitive pricing. “We party professionally.”

“Hi.” There was a pause before the warm male voice asked, “Serena?”

David.

Speaking of ruining a girl for other men…

“Hey.” She blinked. “Long time, no hear.” In the technical sense, anyway.

They kept up with each other, but not usually by phone. E-mail allowed her to write if she happened to be thinking of him at two in the morning, and helped him stay in touch despite his executive workload with a voice technology corporation. Or his ever-so-slightly less hectic schedule squiring around socialites.

Maybe she was just feeling grouchy about his dating because her most recent relationship had fizzled.

It suddenly occurred to Serena that the pause in their barely begun conversation bordered on awkward. “David?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Hearing your voice threw me for a loop. I was expecting your assistant to answer, so when I got you, it caught me off guard.”

“I gave Natalie the day off to nurse a broken heart,” Serena explained.

“Softie.”

The slight warble of cellular static didn’t mask the grin in his voice. When she’d made the uncharacteristic decision to major in business—one of the few her father had ever approved of—no one had doubted she was smart enough to handle the coursework. But plenty had questioned whether or not she had the personality and killer instincts for it.

Her good-boss gesture, however, had been a purely selfish act of sanity preservation. Natalie saw her breakup, coming so soon after Serena’s, as a huge potential for bonding. She refused to believe that Serena wasn’t upset about being abandoned by Patrick…which she still hadn’t mentioned to David. He’d teased her enough during her relationship with the celebrated sculptor who was wandering the country in a quixotic quest for inspiration.

I’ll tell David about the breakup some other time, Serena rationalized, when we’re not on his dime. Yeah, because a Savannah Grant ever worried about dimes. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Oh, the usual. Just wanted to ask what you’re wearing.”

She laughed, echoing his teasing tone and glib reply. “The usual. Leather pants and black bustier.”

His appreciative wolf-whistle made her wonder where he was and if there were people in earshot speculating on his conversation. Clearly, David had ducked out a little early and wasn’t stuck inside his office on a gorgeous spring day. Assuming it was gorgeous in Boston.

She spared a wistful sigh for the afternoon she could have had if she’d been irresponsible enough to play hooky. Tricia, the mother who had raised her in a modern-day art commune after the divorce, would have blown off work to spend the day “nurturing herself,” but Serena had been influenced just enough by her father to keep her in the office today. He’d been so dedicated to work that his wife and daughter had seen him less and less each year.

Dismissing thoughts of her parents, she asked, “So, where are you calling from?”

“You’re going to have to give me a minute. I’m still working on this visual,” David drawled in a send-shivers-up-her-spine tone. In the sterile, black-and-white, Arial 12 e-mail format, their flirting was mostly benign, but when rendered in that husky voice…

“Okay,” he said. “The real reason I called is to find out what you’re up to this weekend.”

“Th-this weekend?” Her pulse stuttered.

“Yeah. Too busy to see an old friend?”

If he’d been “thrown for a loop” when the expected receptionist hadn’t answered, then Serena was now hurtling through the upside-down-and-back-again-lightning-curves equivalent of a new coaster at the nearby Six Flags.

Tell him you’re working, dating, painting your apartment. Something, anything, lie! The problem was, she didn’t have pressing plans, and while she had many faults—just ask her soon-to-be stepmother—dishonesty had never been one of them.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have anything urgent on my schedule.”

“Great! I thought we might get together.”

A dozen vivid images burst to life behind her closed eyes, most of them featuring David in various states of undress. It had been months since they’d been together, but on that last visit, they’d really been together. In at least four different positions, come to think of it…which she tried valiantly not to do.

When he’d been in town during December, she’d used the event-filled season as an excuse not to see him, although they both knew she could have fit in a quick coffee if she’d wanted. The problem was, she’d wanted that entirely too much. She cared enough about David that an affair between them had the potential to really hurt her. Though she’d had her share of boyfriends, none of the eventual goodbyes had caused her any lasting emotional distress. But none of those boyfriends had been David.

When they first met, she’d considered him the attractive, if vaguely arrogant, guy one of her roommates dated. Later he’d gone on to become a fellow student in some “crossover” courses available to both under- and post-grads, to a study buddy it was fun to debate with, to the eventual friend she could e-mail on any topic from a commercial that had amused her to a painfully awkward reconciliation attempt by her father. David was now important enough to her to pose an actual threat to her heart. Especially if she lost him.

But how long could she brush him off without that becoming a threat to their friendship? Unless her brilliant plan was to avoid him forever, she had to get the first reunion out of the way.

She just wished he’d given her more time to prepare. Torn, she spun her padded green office chair in slow circles behind the receptionist’s desk and debated. She and David were both experienced adults who had dated other people in the meantime. How potent could the chemistry between them still be?

His sigh ended the heavy silence. “You don’t want to see me.”

For a nonsensical second, she thought the crackling she heard was actually the tension between them. Then she realized he must be going through an area where reception was choppy.

“Does this have anything to do with your being with Happy now?” he asked. “Or is it because…?”

This one time, she didn’t chide him over the nickname he persisted on using for Patrick, or the derisive note that crept into his voice whenever he mentioned her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you about H—him. We aren’t seeing each other anymore.” Not that she’d seen much of him when they were. A lot of Serena’s relationships seemed to work that way.

David’s pause was difficult to read, and it stretched on long enough for her to wonder if he’d even heard her. Maybe the cell phone reception had given out all together.

But then he asked, “So you’re single?”

Although his words went up at the end in a way that should have indicated a question, his self-assured tone made it sound as if he’d just proclaimed her available for the taking. When her tummy fluttered, caution warned this was exactly why she should avoid him again.

On the other hand, caution wasn’t Serena’s predominant trait. Besides, her pride balked at the thought of doing another ostrich impression like the one she’d performed in December. On the other other hand, at least he couldn’t kiss her if her head was in the sand.

The man needed an answer, and she’d definitely run out of hands.

She took a deep breath. “I have a few things that need to be done this weekend, but if you’re swinging through town, I’d love to get together for lunch—or coffee.” Something midday and public and impervious to rain.

“Terrific.” His next words distorted and faded completely before she heard, “Afraid you…too busy.”

Only if she were smarter.

Footsteps sounded out in the hallway, and even though she’d probably see someone headed upstairs to the pricey orthodontist when she turned around, she seized the excuse to disconnect and regroup. “I’ve got a client coming in, so I need to run. Call me later with your itinerary.”

As she spoke, the door behind her opened. Shocked to discover the footsteps really had signaled a business interruption, she whipped her chair around. And sucked in her breath at the sight of the dark-haired man smiling at her from the entryway.

“Or we could just talk about it now.” David folded his cell phone, leaving her with the drone of the dial tone and a sudden absence of oxygen. His blue eyes, lighter and more intense than she remembered, slid over her still-seated body in unabashed appreciation, and he flashed a wickedly sexy grin. “It’s good to see you, Serena, but damn, I was really hoping you were serious about the bustier and leather pants.”




2


WORDLESS SHOCK immobilized Serena. How the devil had he become even better looking?

In retrospect, her earlier wondering about how potent the chemistry between them could still be was laughable. His voice on the phone had been enough to generate liquid heat inside her. Now she was faced with a mischievous expression as suggestive as the voice. His sensual lips—the bottom one just full enough for her to want to sink her teeth into it—were curved in a smile that crinkled his pale eyes at the corners. His body was tight, and he’d rolled back the cuffs of his midnight-blue shirt to reveal corded forearms. She had an image of those muscles straining as he held himself above her.

Losing the breath she’d finally managed to catch, she decided it wasn’t such a hot idea to stare at his arms. Or his broad shoulders or his very nice hands.

“David!” She yanked off the phone headset and wondered absurdly what her short mop of hair looked like. There was no way she matched his flawlessly put-together appearance, not that something like that would have bothered her when they’d first met.

Back then, his dark-brown hair had been shaggier—not long, by any stretch of the imagination, but more tousled. Each time she’d seen him since he’d earned his MBA, his hair had been trimmed a bit shorter. Now it was cut so close, you couldn’t help but notice the strength of his rectangular face, the hard, smooth jaw and blunt, masculine features. His hair was just long enough for a slight upswept curve above his forehead and the barest hint of neat sideburns stopping at his ears.

“Surprised?” He shut the door behind him, still grinning that wouldn’t-you-like-to-remove-my-clothes-with-your-teeth smile. Or maybe she was projecting.

“You rat.” She stood, relieved she was able to, and pressed a palm to her racing heart. “I’m shocked. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

His lithe easy stride as he came toward her made her feel melodramatically tense in contrast. “It was more fun this way. Besides, the Serena I know likes surprises. You aren’t happy to see me?”

It was difficult to imagine anyone with David’s self-assurance, heritage or bone-melting appeal worrying about the reception he’d get.

“Of course I am.” Forcing her feet to walk around the soothing haven of Natalie’s desk, Serena bobbed her head in what was supposed to be an affirming nod. Somehow she forgot to stop and ended up feeling like one of those ugly little dogs people stuck to their dashboards. “It’s, um, been a while.”

He said nothing, merely hitched an eyebrow in a knowing expression. The gap between visits had only been so long due to her sprouting a beak and feathers last time he’d been in town.

I’m not a chicken. Or an ostrich. Or anything else ornithological. She could hold her own against the waves of testosterone and sexual confidence he exuded. To prove just that, she stepped in his direction, stopping only when she was close enough for a quick, welcoming hug.

She wrapped one arm across his shoulders and leaned toward him. “It’s great to see you.”

His familiar cologne wafted over her, immediately calling to mind other earthy fragrances, like rain in the air and sex on her sheets. The memory was so strong that she froze for a second. David looped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him for a full-frontal hug, and her muscles went liquid with both recognition and anticipation.

Forget it, she instructed her body. There had been extenuating circumstances behind the one time they’d made love. Rather, the one night they’d made love many times. For starters, there’d been that whole wet clothing issue.

Still, while she had no intentions of repeating past mistakes, no matter how orgasmic, the man felt good.

Patrick had been long and lean—all right, gangly—and had towered over her in a way she’d tried to tell herself made her feel feminine. But David, just tall enough to grin down at her, was the perfect height. Their bodies fit together in all the right throbbing places.

Despite the fabric barriers of clothing, heat sprang from each point of contact as if the two of them were pressed skin to skin. Her breasts brushed against him, and her nipples tightened the same way they would have if they’d encountered the soft friction of the crisp hair that dusted his chest. His hips bumped hers, and a giddy, tingly sensation shot from head to toe as warmth pooled between her thighs.

Serena jerked back, which would have worked better if the contact with David hadn’t dissolved her muscles. Without him for support, her strangely shaky body wobbled. She feared landing on her ass and looking like one.

“You okay?” He steadied her with a hand on her upper arm, his fingers firm through her thin violet sweater.

Goose bumps sprang up all over her flesh. As she recalled, the man had the most talented fingers this side of the Mason Dixon. She wasn’t too shy to tell a lover where or how she wanted to be touched, but with David, there’d been no need. In fact, the few times she had volunteered a suggestion—-faster came to mind—he’d continued his slow, sweet pace anyway, eventually demonstrating that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just…light-headed.”

She reclaimed her arm, expecting to see some kind of thermal handprint on her sleeve, burned into place by the heat arcing between them. “With Natalie out of the office, I didn’t eat lunch.” Unless she counted the salad she’d brought from home and the bag of chips from the vending machine. Fine, two bags, but they’d been the comparatively healthy baked-not-fried kind.

David’s grin widened, and, with the clarity of hindsight, she immediately regretted her fib.

“Then I insist you let me take you out for an early dinner,” he said.

“But—”

“I won’t take no for an answer, Serena.”

An occasionally stubborn person herself, she admired assertiveness in others, but the intimate timbre of his voice was downright unfair.

“I can’t just dash off this second,” she protested.

Actually, with the slow business day she’d had, she probably could, but why tell him that? David Grant could stand for a few more people to turn him down from time to time. She loved the man, she really did—in the nonphysical best-buds-for-ages sense—but he got his way much too often.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “I can step out and make a few phone calls where the reception’s better.”

At the prospect of more space between them, her body sagged in relief. “All right. Give me a little bit to wrap things up.”

“Take as long as you need.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Anything important enough to do deserves time and thorough attention, right?”

As the president of her own company—even if it was just her and one other employee—she should agree with the work ethic of his statement. Except there was no work ethic, only veiled seduction. She recalled again the way David had pushed her to mindless limits when she’d already thought she couldn’t burn any hotter. He’d proven her deliciously wrong.

“You really do look woozy,” David observed.

Of course she did. It had been months since she’d had sex, and close to a year since she’d had fantastic sex. Suddenly, it seemed every molecule in her body was vibrating with the effects of the unplanned abstinence. It was like alcohol—if you’d given up drinking for a while, even a sip of something potent went straight to your head.

His forehead wrinkled as genuine concern replaced the humor in his expression. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out of here now and grab something to eat? Or I could run and get you a snack.”

“No, that’s not necessary.” She glanced between the receptionist’s chair and the overstuffed loveseat for guests, gauging which was closer. Deciding on the blue loveseat, she passed by David, telling herself she’d had a full five minutes to grow immune to that spicy seductive cologne. Its power over her should have waned by now.

Maybe the warm flush stealing through her body was actually embarrassment, not attraction. He was hardly the only man she’d ever been with, yet here she was in a near swoon. Real women do not swoon. Not in the last hundred years, anyway. When she glanced up, she was relieved to find him studying the surroundings instead of her.

“Nice place,” he said. “Took me a while to find, but great location. Definitely an improvement.”

Hard to believe her office would be terribly impressive to someone who’d grown up in the ancestral mansion once photographed for Southern Décor, but he was right about the improvement part. Her first site had been a one-room dive with a slight bug problem. Rent here was more, but worth every penny.

David took in the vintage lamp in the corner, the scarlet patterned swag over the miniblinded exterior window, the framed posters, and the artfully “mismatched” furniture—two chairs and a couch, each in a different primary color. “It is original.”

“Thanks…That was a compliment, right?”

“Yeah.” He sat next to her. “You have a way of making everything you come in contact with uniquely yours.”

He wasn’t crowding her, but then, he didn’t need a macho tactic to make her aware of him. Some of her best memories with this man involved a couch, and she had to concentrate to keep from swaying reflexively toward him. As seemingly relaxed as she was alert, he leaned back and casually fanned his fingers against his knee. Was he deliberately drawing her attention to his hand, daring her to remember the way he’d touched her?

She swallowed. “Well, we do parties, so I didn’t want my office to be stuffy. There are already wedding coordinators who do the whole Emily-Post-slash-Martha-Stewart thing, and planners all over the city who do the black-tie corporate banquets. We do those, too, but I try to give everything a touch of unique flair.”

“Touch is good.”

“W-we want our events to be memorable.”

“You are that,” he said softly. Just when she was starting to suspect he’d traveled all this way to drive her out of her sex-starved mind, he asked, “So, how’s business going?”

It took her a moment to adjust to the change of subject. Oh, wait, they’d been talking about work. Outwardly, at least.

“Not bad. A little slower than I’d like right now,” she admitted. “But business comes in waves. I arranged a bachelor party last week to fill some downtime.”

“Bachelor party?” An eyebrow arched up. “With a stripper and everything?”

“She much prefers ‘exotic dancer,’ and I hired her through the same agency I contact for bartenders and black-jack dealers.”

“Hm. An evening of sex, Scotch and sin, as presented by Serena Donavan.”

“As presented by Inventive Events,” she corrected, wishing the gleam in his gaze weren’t quite so speculative. “Quit looking at me like you’re picturing I was the stripper.”

He leaned toward her, his smile naughty. “Do I have to stop picturing it, or just stop looking like I am?”

His husky tone seduced her into sharing the fantasy. It was too easy to envision giving a sultry performance for him alone—slipping buttons out of their holes, shimmying out of a blouse as she rolled her shoulders and hips to the accompaniment of pulsing background music.

She narrowed her eyes. “You are a bad influence. Can’t you see I’m trying to be a respectable businesswoman here?”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d been trying for years to demonstrate that she didn’t have to fit into her estranged father’s eight-to-five, corporate-America notions of respectability to be happy and successful. The results had been decidedly mixed—prompted in part by his new girlfriend, James Donavan had decided last summer to try to be part of her life again, but his brand of support included offers of finding her a job at one of his banks if “that party thing ever falls flat.”

Then again, how reputable could she be? She had strippers on speed dial.

David shook his head, his tone laced with amusement. “Give it up, Serena. You’re not cut out to be respectable.”

She flinched inwardly. David had teased her plenty of times in the past and was only echoing what she herself had just been thinking. Yet somehow the joking indictment sounded a hell of a lot different coming out loud from a Savannah Grant.

HOLDING HIS cell phone for prop purposes, David sat in the lobby where “reception might be better,” on a decorative bench uncomfortable enough to have been used during the Inquisition. Make a guy sit on one of these long enough, he’d confess to just about anything. Like being unbelievably arrogant?

AGI had sent him here this weekend to check out apartments, but David’s personal goal had been to find out whether the burning attraction between him and Serena was as he remembered, or if his imagination and time had exaggerated it. He’d also wanted to discover if the Happy Wanderer presented any real competition. David’s earlier call as he drove though an exasperating series of one-way Atlanta streets had eased his mind on both matters. Her announcement of the breakup and the breathy, telling pauses in conversation had led him to half hope she’d fall into his arms when he walked through the office door.

Arrogance.

Instead of fawning over him, or even pushing him away so he could tell himself she was running from a powerful desire, she’d blinked off her initial shock, then approached for a depressingly casual hug. If it hadn’t been for the way she’d watched his hands while they talked on the couch, her doe eyes becoming heavy-lidded and dazed as if his fidgeting fingers were actually moving over her skin, he might honestly have worried that they were doomed to platonic friendship.

But the longer he’d sat with her, the more obvious her arousal had become. There’d been no mistaking her dilated pupils, the way she nervously licked her lips or the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath her soft knit top. Maybe he’d only overlooked her desire at first because he’d been too consumed by his own.

Even though he’d been the one surprising her, when she’d glanced up at him with those wide brown eyes, the jolt of sensual energy that had shot through him had been like a force of nature—something meteorologists had warned was coming but that still had to be experienced to be believed.

For instance, who would have believed an ensemble as theoretically conservative as khakis and sweater could be so sexy?

Serena looked like a bad girl impersonating a businesswoman. The slacks, while the right innocuous color for casual Fridays across the country, fit very snugly across her hips and were slung low at the waist. Only the embroidered hem of her plum-colored top kept him from seeing whether or not she was wearing the bellybutton ring that glinted teasingly in his memory. The neckline of the long-sleeved shirt dipped down in a rectangle that actually laced up over her breasts. Because of her understated curves, the cleavage revealed stopped just shy of being completely inappropriate for the office, but it was plenty to make his mouth go dry.

Although David knew it was an optical fashion illusion, he couldn’t help thinking that if he pulled the ends of the string bow apart, her sweater would fall away and leave her bared for tasting. He could recall with aching clarity the feel of her velvety breasts and the peach-hued nipples that had been so sensitive to his touch. On the one occasion he’d undressed Serena, peeling off a sodden T-shirt that seemed to leave less to the imagination than actual nudity, she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Was she today?

Wanting to find out had made him restless enough to drum his fingers and tap his thumb as he sat with her.

What he really wanted to find out was if she still objected to the physical connection between them. And if so, why. When he factored in everything that Serena meant to him, her newly single status and the timing of this transfer, it seemed fate was handing him this opportunity on a silver platter.

But Serena was on edge and clearly not about to fall into his lap—delightful as that prospect was. He needed to romance her, convince her, figure out her reservations and overcome them one by one. His desire to handle this with finesse was why he hadn’t simply sprung his relocation announcement on her already. But he had supreme confidence that he could win her over. That was why he was on the business-development side of things at AGI—his specialty was new partnerships, finding or creating opportunities and overcoming any obstacles with various means of persuasion.

Persuading Serena would be far more enjoyable than, say, persuading the CEO of Digi-Dial, leaders in cell-phone technology.

Her office door swung open with a gentle creak, and Serena appeared, holding a massive beige purse that looked more like a weapon against muggers than something they might steal. In Boston, she would have needed a jacket, but it was warm here.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said. Her tone was breezy and her smile even, but she ran her hand through her honey-blond, not-quite-chin-length curls in a self-conscious gesture.

“Not a problem.”

She turned to lock up the suite. “If you’d like, I can suggest a place for dinner.”

“Lord, no.”

Serena was big on what she called “cultural color,” and while four out of five places she picked were surprisingly excellent (with the fifth being horrific), David desired something a bit more intimate tonight. He didn’t want their conversation to be interrupted by some poetry reading, and he didn’t want to have to worry about exotic herbs in their unpronounceable entrées that might lead to indigestion or unkissable breath. Just because he was prepared for longer-term wooing didn’t mean he couldn’t be optimistic.

“And what’s wrong with the places I pick?” she asked, glaring down at him.

He stood. “They usually look like they’re only still in business because someone bribed the health inspector.”

“But they have fabulous food. Usually.” She sniffed. “A restaurant doesn’t have to have valet parking to be worth eating at.”

“I know that.” If his tone was defensive, it was because he’d just realized he’d been to at least three restaurants this week that used valet service. “But, tonight I want to take you…someplace nice.” He could tell her they were celebrating his likely promotion, except he wasn’t ready to tell her his news yet.

They headed toward the building’s canopied main entrance. David reached out to open the door for her, but she’d already pushed it open herself.

Following her into the early-evening shadows, he felt a ridiculous need to prove she wasn’t the only one who’d ever discovered a culinary treasure in an offbeat hole-in-the-wall. “There was a dive you would have loved in Boston.”

“Meaning what?” She whipped her head around, impaling him with her narrowed eyes. “That I can only appreciate dives?”

Nice. Seduce women often, idiot? But he hadn’t expected Serena to be so touchy.

“Meaning you would have seen beyond the unrefined décor, and you would have loved the live bands and the oyster bar’s creative menu.”

“Ah.” On the sidewalk, she stopped, glancing between David and her dilapidated decade-old Honda.

Letting himself bump into her would have been transparent, but he came awfully close before he, too, drew up short. She’d never wear an expensive, trendy perfume, but whatever she had on smelled like spices and rare exotic flowers swirled in one heady, lust-inducing scent.

“Since you obviously don’t need a recommendation from me, where do you want to go?” Serena asked.

To the nearest bedroom.

“In case we get separated in traffic,” she added.

“Separated? We can ride together.” In light of her apparent skittishness about spending time with him, he appealed to her time-honored sense of thrift. “I have to pay for the rental car whether we use it or not.”

She sighed. “Let me guess, you’re the Beemer over in the corner.”

“Not even close.” He gestured toward a sleek yellow convertible. “That’s mine. Temporarily, anyway.”

Her body tensed as she took in the sexy sports car, then she shot him a look of such unexpected disdain that he wondered if he’d have been better off with the BMW.

“Men. I suppose it was the flashiest one on the lot?”

The brightly colored fantasy on wheels had actually reminded him of Serena, but she didn’t seem to be in the right mood to appreciate that compliment. “Well, it is yellow—”

“Extremely.”

“—so I figured the pollen that coats everything here wouldn’t show up as much.” He shrugged when she didn’t smile at the joke. “The weather’s been dreary in Boston, and this looked like a great ride for the weekend.”

“Looks expensive,” she muttered. “What is it they say about men and cars and overcompensation?”

Without making a conscious decision to do so, he leaned forward, closing much of the space between them. “And what inadequacy do you think I need to compensate for?”

She blinked up at him. “None. It was a random comment. You…” As she trailed off, her eyes moved downward to the front of his pants, and her admiring gaze took what felt like his entire blood supply down with it. “Nothing inadequate about you.”

Damn right. Still, he almost wished she’d challenged his prowess in some way. Then they could’ve skipped dinner, leaving him free to spend the rest of the night making his case.




3


SERENA was sure someone, somewhere, had put a lot of time and thought into creating the right ambience for the restaurant, but the surroundings were wasted on her. She couldn’t focus on anything outside of the intimate booth she and David shared.

The table for two was small enough that they could easily hold hands without having to reach for each other, not that they would be holding hands. Or touching each other at all, except for occasional accidents, such as his legs brushing hers under the table as they had just now. She almost jumped, her nerves taut with awareness.

His knee bumping mine is not sexy.

No, but the memories she had of their limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets certainly were.

David leaned back against the richly upholstered bench opposite hers. “I know what I want. What about you, Serena?”

As with three-quarters of the comments he’d made on the drive to the restaurant, she couldn’t tell if he intended his words to have a double meaning, or if she simply had a one-track mind. His tone was innocent enough, which in and of itself was immediate cause for suspicion.

“I haven’t decided.” The menu in its embossed burgundy cover gave her something to hide behind when she worried her one-track thoughts would be revealed on her face.

After the time she’d taken in her office to adjust to his presence, the ride to the restaurant had been more relaxed than their initial encounter. His cologne was still driving her crazy—to say nothing of her preoccupation with his hands as he’d fiddled with the air vents and shifted gears—but she’d enjoyed being in his company. By the time he’d moved to Boston, they’d been friends long enough to have developed their own conversational rhythm, following each other’s thoughts, knowing when it was safe to heckle the other about something and what subjects were more sensitive. So talking to him in the car hadn’t been difficult. They’d discussed Inventive Events at length, and David’s enthusiasm for her small but spunky business endeared him to her even further.

Now that she thought about it, her job had monopolized conversation, and she still wasn’t clear on what work-related project had brought David to town. But, after dating an artist who was a minor celebrity in public opinion and a major celeb in his own, it had been gratifying for someone to show so much interest in what she did for a living. Her father, James, firmly believed there were more dignified ways to earn an income—ones that would probably reflect better on him—and certainly steadier incomes to be earned, given her education. Whenever Serena mentioned her company to him, he got a pained look on his face that she recognized from childhood.

It was the same one he’d always given her mom.

“Serena?”

She jerked her head up from a list of pasta entrées she hadn’t been reading. “Still looking.”

“No, I just wondered if everything was all right.” David frowned. “You seemed…troubled.”

“My mind wandered for a second. As seldom as I see James and Meredith, you had the bad luck to catch me on a week when I have.” She knew her father was genuinely making an effort these days, but she’d honestly be glad when his early-June wedding to Meredith McPherson was behind them. With luck, he’d just go back to ignoring Serena. “Sorry. Guess not enough time’s passed for me to have sufficiently detoxed from the visit.”

“Oh.” The lines of worry in David’s expression eased. “That’s a relief.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m relieved by any trouble you’re having with your family, just that I was concerned I might have upset you. I suddenly felt like maybe I’d strong-armed you into dinner.”

Serena laughed. “You mean because you traveled across all those states, told me you wouldn’t accept no for an answer and wouldn’t even let me take my own car?”

“Is that all?” He flashed a grin. “It seemed worse in my head.”

A moment later, he asked, “You want to talk about it? James and Meredith, I mean.”

“No.” She’d vented to David before, but not usually face to face. Besides, the last time she’d discussed her father with someone—her yoga-instructor friend Alyson—she’d ended up feeling whiny and disgusted with herself. “Big no.”

David glided to the next logical topic. “Heard from Tricia lately?”

The mention of her adventurous, live-life-to-the-fullest mother made Serena feel surprisingly wistful, and she shook her head. “She and her latest lover, Miguel, are communing with South American nature far from the nearest modem or cell phone roaming area.” Her mom, who hadn’t had time to visit Serena in over a year, would have liked Patrick—they had the same respect for following “spiritual journeys.” And the same inability to be there for someone else.

When the waiter arrived, Serena ordered a fettuccine plate. David, the carnivore, selected a New York strip.

“Very good.” The waiter jotted down notes about side dishes and how to prepare the meat. “And you’re sure you wouldn’t like to see a wine list? We have a fabulous house chardonnay.”

“Yes!…No.” Serena was a bit too emphatic in her assurance, and she pretended not to see David’s grin at her speedy response. “Yes, I’m sure that no, I don’t need anything to drink.”

They hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol last summer to blame their indiscretions on impaired judgment, but the last thing she needed right now was something that lowered her already half-mast inhibitions. David’s eyes alone triggered stabs of yearning in her. Would it really be so bad to ditch her inhibitions for the night? she asked herself as the waiter ambled to the next table.

Ending her dry spell with David, then sending him safely back to Boston with a quick kiss goodbye and a promise to stay in touch was tempting.

But dangerous, too. How willing was she to risk their friendship? Though she had friends, few had known her as long or as well as David. He was…special. Obviously her family wasn’t ever going to be her main source of comfort and stability.

Newsflash, her libido informed her. There’s more to life than stability.

Ignoring the way her inner muscles clenched whenever David happened to touch her, she reminded herself that one night together had already changed their relationship. Her powerful and conflicting emotions now were a perfect example. She didn’t want things to unravel further. Among the many topics they discussed, she and David often mentioned their love lives, and before last summer, she’d never felt jealous. Well, hardly ever. But in the past few months, mention of that Tiffany person had given Serena far more of a twinge than had Patrick staying with an old girlfriend when he’d passed through New Mexico.

A self-sufficient woman, Serena did best in relationships where she and her partner could be alone together, as contradictory as that sounded. Yet, when David had gone back to Boston after his last visit, she’d missed him. A lot. In an uncomfortably needy, vulnerable way.

So the answer to your question, she told her libido, is yes. It would be that bad to ditch the inhibitions.

She might not have many, but for tonight she was clinging to them. Even she—a woman who hadn’t been with a man in months, a woman who had listened enviously to the erotic details of Alyson’s tantric sex life—could keep her willpower intact for one night. With any luck, the next time Serena saw David she’d be safely involved with someone who had put an end to her sexual drought.

She set down the water she’d been sipping; her thirst wasn’t what needed to be quenched. “So, what exactly brings you to Atlanta this weekend? I missed the specifics while we were trying to figure out where to turn.”

“I saved the best news for last.” He surprised her by lightly brushing his hand over hers. Little pinpricks of heat shimmered up her arm. “You’re looking at Atlanta’s newest resident. AGI’s moving its corporate headquarters here, and I’m heading up the advance team.”

Moving? To her city? Within driving distance of her bedroom?

“Y-you aren’t going back to Boston?”

“Well, yeah, temporarily. This is an exploratory visit. I’ll be here through Tuesday, then go back to tie up all the loose ends. But after that, you may be seeing a lot of me.”

Did she get to pick which parts?

Her willpower, which had been prepared for the demanding but blessedly short-lived sprint through a single intimate evening, now cramped at the thought of the endurance required for the long haul. She searched her mind for something that would help. “So…where does Tiffany fall on the ‘loose ends’ spectrum?”

His eyes widened. “Tiffany? Why would you ask about her?”

“Friendly curiosity. Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“That’s a much more popular misconception than I realized,” he mumbled. “No, she isn’t. She apparently thought she was. Until she left me earlier this week.”

“You were ditched by someone you weren’t even dating?” Serena chuckled. “And I thought my getting dumped was pathetic.”

“Dumped? You’re kidding. I assumed you finally called things off because you were tired of carrying on an exciting affair with postcards.”

He made a good point. Why hadn’t she ended the going-nowhere relationship?

Patrick possessed a fair amount of charisma, but that had been wearing thin even before he’d left town. She’d been philosophical about her lack of enthusiasm, though. None of the men she’d spent time with in the last nine months had caused much zing inside her. Without meaning to, without even realizing it until after the fact, she’d fallen into the dating equivalent of, “Why change the channel? Nothing else good is on.”

David leaned back as the waiter set down their plates, then asked as soon as the man walked away, “What did happen, exactly? With you and the Wanderer?”

“He was searching for inspiration. Apparently, it’s in Yuma.” She twirled pasta around her fork. “He’s staying.”

“I thought this whole roving-the-country thing was a chance to—help me out here?”

“‘Soak up myriad experiences and settings and return triumphant, synthesizing them into his work,’” she recited.

“Uh-huh. So, no synthesizing?”

Was it too late to tell the waiter she’d changed her mind about having a drink? “Yes. He’ll just be synthesizing in Yuma. He told me I was welcome to visit him, but Atlanta was ‘asphyxiating his art.’”

David’s lips twitched. “It can breathe in Arizona?”

“I hear they have good air there.”

He focused intently on his plate while he cut his steak into tiny pieces, all the while biting hard on his lower lip.

“Oh, just get it over with,” she ordered, fighting a giggle herself. “Go ahead and laugh.”

He did.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s a gifted artist,” David said, more magnanimous than he’d ever been when she was actually dating Patrick. “Lousy boyfriend, though. I never could figure out why you stayed with him.”

That was par for the course—David hadn’t exactly been drinking buddies with anyone she’d dated. The reverse was also true, though. From the preppie ex-prom queen Student Housing had placed Serena with to the string of cool blondes from family money she’d watched David date, most of his romantic choices made her cringe. Did he really have fun with those women? Come to think of it, he was probably asking himself the same thing about her and Patrick.

How could she explain that in some selfish way, the absentee relationship had been ideal? She’d been able to combat loneliness by being “involved,” yet she’d never had to give up her side of the bed. She hadn’t even shaved her legs unless she felt like it.

She shrugged. “My line of work, I’m pretty busy during the prime weekend dating hours, so I didn’t mind his being gone that much. I could call him if I needed to talk and still got gifts on my birthday and major holidays. Few of the hassles of a normal relationship, all the benefits. Except fantastic sex.”

David set down his fork and studied her for a long, electric moment. The humor they’d shared evaporated beneath the heat in his gaze. “You know, Serena, there are guys who could give you the friendly ear, birthday cards and space to do your job…and the fantastic sex.”

Her willpower whimpered.

DAVID’S provocative words were still fresh in Serena’s mind when she woke up bright and early Saturday morning. Well, not “woke up,” exactly, since that implied she’d actually fallen asleep sometime during the steamy night. Steamy partly because of her own thoughts, and also because when she’d tried to turn on the air-conditioner for the first time this season, she’d discovered it didn’t work. Good thing she’d turned down David’s request to see her home—what heat that would have generated!

After he’d taken her to pick up her car, he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to follow her home. His gesture, though sweet, was totally unnecessary. She might not live in the most upscale part of town, but it wasn’t dangerous. Not nearly as dangerous as risking his being near her apartment or her ever-weakening willpower.

Which begged the question—why had she agreed to his picking her up here this morning?

Light spilled through the arched window at the other end of the loft’s railing, and she blinked, wondering how he’d talked her into helping him apartment hunt.

He’d lulled her into a false sense of security, she told herself as she stood under the revitalizing spray of the shower. During dinner, his sexually charged comments had tapered off just enough so that when he’d announced that he’d naturally want her input as an Atlanta resident while he shopped for apartments, she’d agreed.

Did he really catch you so off guard, or were you just happy for the excuse to spend more time with him?

Ignoring the skeptical inner voice, Serena worked her blue cypress bar into a lather and ran it over her skin. The natural soap was supposed to be soothing to body and spirit, but after a sleepless night of rebellious fantasies and aching memories, she too easily imagined David’s hands running over her slick body instead of her own. His wet fingers slipping along the curve of her hip, the smooth slide of her thigh…With a tight groan, she flipped the faucet control to Cold and rinsed quickly before pulling back the shower curtain.

If he could resume their friendship with no signs of awkward unease, so could she. In fact, keeping their relationship platonic was her idea. She couldn’t risk the possibility of ruining their friendship, no matter how badly she’d wanted him last night and still did this morning.

Sure, opposites attracted. Notice how there was no equally famous saying about opposites settling down and living happily ever after. James and Tricia had demonstrated vividly what happened when two very different people moved beyond the attraction and into the bitter divorce stage. Although there had been painful times when Serena’s parents had used their daughter as a weapon to hurt each other, at least she could take comfort in knowing she’d learned from their mistakes. The mere possibility that her friendship with David could one day end with the same sort of spiteful contempt as her parents’ marriage made her stomach clench in dread.

But she knew he was interested in being more than buddies.

When she’d first e-mailed him to say their making love had been a one-time fluke, he hadn’t seemed thrilled with her decision. Given his history of persevering until he got what he wanted—whether it was a class schedule with every course he’d desired to the most sought-after girl on campus to his number-one job pick—Serena wouldn’t have been surprised last night if he’d pushed her to change her mind. Instead, he’d made comments, such as the remark about her finding a man who could take care of her sexual needs as well as her emotional ones, but then he’d moved to safer topics.

By the time he’d driven her back to her car, she was almost wishing he’d just address their single night together directly so she had reason to reiterate her never-gonna-happen-again stance. But he hadn’t broached it, and she wasn’t about to bring it up first. Not when it was taking everything in her to keep it from happening again.

She ran a towel over her hair in a cursory gesture that wouldn’t really do anything to keep it from drying in whatever wild curls it chose. Serena actually liked it that way. She couldn’t imagine the time and care Alyson took plaiting her long red hair in all those elaborately braided styles. Besides, when your hair was already messy, you never let the threat of disarray keep you from enjoying something like the breeze off a lake or an afternoon jaunt in a convertible with the top rolled down.

Dressed in a pair of pink capris, an oversized T-shirt covered in sketched portraits by a local artist and a pair of vintage sandals, Serena headed downstairs, her heart rate accelerating as she realized David would be here soon. She’d told him that management offices for most places wouldn’t open until nine, but he’d insisted on buying her breakfast first to thank her for giving up her Saturday.

Certainly helps save on groceries. The free meals came at a fortuitous time. With the recent lull in business, it was nice to have dinner out without worrying about funds, but it was a forcible reminder that she and David lived different realities. It wasn’t just the finances, though, or their upbringings; they moved in opposing cultural circles. He went to the opera, she went to local bars to hear her struggling guitarist friend. David had gone for his MBA with the determination to make even more of himself than his birthright gave him, and Serena had studied business to get a good idea of what the rules were before she broke them.

When he’d kissed her last summer, she’d been stunned. There’d always been the occasional flirtatious undercurrent to their conversations, but until that day and the surprising sparks that had combusted between them, she hadn’t truly thought he was attracted to her. Romantically, they didn’t make sense. As friends, he could tease her good-naturedly about the artistic way she’d decorated her various apartments because he didn’t have to live in any of them, and she could cluck her tongue over the hellacious hours he worked because she wasn’t one of the girlfriends he cancelled on to do so—she’d had enough of that on the weekends her father was supposed to take her, thank you very much.

Even without the excruciating ordeal of her parents’ divorce, Serena had enough sense to know she wasn’t David’s type. That Tiffany he’d started mentioning a few months ago sounded perfect for him. Yes, but she’s in Boston, and they broke up. You are here with David.

The knock at the door was a merciful interruption. She might be spending the day with David, but only because she was doing a favor for a friend. No different than spending a day with Alyson.

Except she didn’t fantasize about Aly.

She crossed the hardwood floor, away from the windows and toward the door that opened into what had once been a junior-high hallway. In the part of the building where they’d housed the management offices, there were still some of the original lockers.

“Morning.” David greeted her with a smile and a white paper sack that emanated delicious aromas. He looked even more delicious.

“You brought breakfast.”

“I told you I was going to,” he answered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though wondering why he was still standing in the hall.

“Yes, but I thought…” Crowds, onlookers, public ordinances against her ripping off his long-sleeved red T-shirt and Dockers. She really, really needed to talk to the super about fixing her air-conditioning. “I’m sorry, come in.”

He entered, but didn’t head for the green-and-rose kitchen that sat below her loft-style bedroom at the other end of the apartment. Instead, he paused, glancing at her with those unbelievable sky-blue eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my making a unilateral decision, but I saw that breakfast burrito vendor you liked so much was still in business and figured it would be a fun surprise.”

“You are just full of those,” she muttered.

His gaze held hers. “You aren’t exactly predictable yourself, Serena.”

Was he referring to the fact that they’d made love, or the fact that she was adamantly opposed to it happening again? Less adamantly every second that passed, she admitted to herself. Her body had remained in a ripe, sensitized half-aroused state ever since he’d set foot in her office yesterday, and now she wondered if she would have made things easier on herself if she’d tried to alleviate some of this building pressure when she’d been in the shower. Too late now.

Unless she asked him to help alleviate it.

She swallowed, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the forest-green countertop of the breakfast bar that served as a room divider. “I—I have juice in the fridge. I might even have some coffee.”

He grimaced, but his gaze was still affectionate. Heatedly so. “No offense, but your coffee’s horrible. I grabbed some on the way over.”

Pivoting on the blocky high heel of one sandal, she told herself she’d scarf down her food and get them out of here.

David followed at a slower pace, taking in the surroundings. “You’ve changed some stuff.”

“Here and there. I wanted some new decorative touches, but the major furniture’s all the same.” Good thing she was skilled at creatively redecorating on a budget. And the orange-framed acrylic pieces she had on display not only livened up the high white walls, they allowed her to help her friend Craig without it seeming too much like charity.

“Glad to see you still have the couch,” David told her, his voice husky with remembrance.

She froze reaching for juice, caught between the heat of her own memories and the welcoming blast of cold air that came from the fridge. Even now, every moment she and David had spent together that night was as vivid as her favorite Matisse painting—they’d barely shut the front door behind them when David had pulled her into that first startling, sizzling kiss. Then, when they’d managed to shimmy out of the majority of their sodden clothes, they’d made it as far as the bright purple velour sofa.

She struggled for a light tone, not daring to look out in his direction. “Oh, come on. You always made fun of that couch.”

When he spoke again, his voice was so close, she jumped. “I’ve developed a new appreciation for it.”

Straightening fast enough to give herself a head rush, she clutched the gallon of orange juice to her and leveled a reproachful glance in his direction. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “I didn’t exactly tiptoe in here, so you must’ve really been lost in thought.”

The tiny room that she’d decorated to be evocative of a garden was nowhere near big enough for her, David and her peace of mind.

“If you want to have a seat,” she suggested, “I can bring the juice out.”

He took a step—in the wrong direction—and shrugged. “I like being in here.”

Leaning past her, bringing his body so close it almost brushed hers, he stretched up to open the cabinet over her shoulder and pulled down two glasses. Serena held her breath, paralyzed in front of the refrigerator, mesmerized by how easy it would be to touch him. To live out the fantasy she’d been craving for the past nine months.

He set the glasses on the counter and lowered his voice. “I like being with you.”

His words warmed her more than they should have, and she closed her eyes for a second as she stole a guilty moment to savor the sentiment. When he’d last been here, she’d not only liked being with him, she hadn’t been able to get enough of him. She’d never been so insatiable with any lover, before or since. Would it still be that way between them?

Almost as if she’d asked the question aloud, he groaned in response. Serena felt him take the juice out of her hand and heard it land on the counter with a dull thud.

“Serena.” The warmth of his breath was soft on her face, and he ran his thumb along the curve of her lower lip, skin so sensitive the caress almost tickled. It was all she could do not to catch the pad of his thumb with her teeth. “Look at me, honey.”

Forgetting to breathe, she did as he asked, knowing he was about to kiss her. Wanting him to kiss her. She’d spent hours thinking about this very thing—not just during her hot sleepless night, but ever since he’d flown back to Boston last summer.

His gaze melted with hers, and he sucked in his own breath, his expression almost one of agony. Maybe he was afraid she’d push him away. As if that were even possible. Her entire body was starving for him.

She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him to her. His lips met hers eagerly, and the moment his tongue slid into her mouth, she felt dizzy with joy. This was what she’d longed for. This was what she’d remembered, what had kept her awake on nights she should’ve been missing Patrick but hadn’t.

A small voice trying to be heard over the rush of desire warned, this was what was going to break her heart.




4


DAVID’S FINGERS were tangled in the damp softness of Serena’s hair, and his thoughts were tangled in the overpowering desire that had snared him as soon as she’d opened the front door.

As sexually frustrated as he’d been when he got back to his hotel room last night, he’d known he’d handled dinner the right way, always retreating before his flirting went too far. Changing Serena’s mind about this platonic nonsense required finesse, which had clearly been shot to hell the moment he’d set foot in this apartment. There’d been no misinterpreting the way she’d looked at him with those hot brown eyes. He’d been overwhelmed by the need in her expression, the fresh, exotic scent of her, the memories of the last time he’d been here.

Winning her over slowly was overrated. New plan: kissing her passionately.

Her hands skimmed up and down his back, bunching the material of his shirt and raking over his tensed muscles. He slid his own hands along the curve of her spine past her waist, kneading her round hips with his fingers as he pulled her against him. Her tongue met his, and hunger reverberated through him with the force of a tsunami.

There was no way to deepen the already carnal kiss, but he could bring them closer together, eliminate the barriers between them. Gripping the hem, he shoved her pale purple shirt upward. He brushed over the delicate gold navel ring that had shimmered in his memories, and his erection swelled to almost painful proportions. Unlike in his memories, she was wearing a bra today, but the frothy scrap of lace could hardly be described as an obstacle. He ran his palm over her, and she moaned her approval, arching into his hand. He wanted to fill his hands with her, wanted to fill her, period.

He lifted her shirt, and she raised her arms so he could remove it. But with their kiss broken, she blinked up at him like someone waking from a trance. When he settled his arms back around her, she sighed his name.

“David.” It wasn’t so much rapturous desire as wistful regret.

Hell.

He stared into her eyes. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

She bit her lip, her face flushed the same rosy pink as the bra he’d love to slide off of her. Though she didn’t answer, the tightness of her hold on him was encouraging.

“To touch you?” He traced his index finger in a slow circle around one silk-covered nipple. Maybe he wasn’t playing fair, but he was playing to win. They were fantastic together—he just had to persuade her of that.

“I, um…” She swallowed convulsively. “Damn, it’s hot in here.”

It wasn’t the room. It was all her. He reached behind her and cupped his hand under the ice-maker, then lifted a crescent-shaped cube to the back of her neck. Catching a handful of honey-blond curls and twisting them up off her nape, he drew the ice down over her skin. “Better?”

Not even the frigid droplets of water dripping between his fingers could quell the heat spreading in his body. Only Serena could put out that fire. He trailed a wet, shivery path across the top of her shoulder and down over her collarbone. She trembled, her eyes closing as her head tilted back. Tracing the rapidly melting piece of ice back and forth over the slopes of her small, perfect breasts, he fumbled one-handed with the clasp at her back. He’d seen her in his imagination a hundred times since August, but that only intensified his need for the reality.

The bra fluttered to the floor, but he didn’t touch her immediately. He made them both wait, drawing a cold, slippery, straight line down her flat abdomen. Then, he changed direction, traveling up the column of her throat, dipping the ice across her parted lips. He pitched what was left of the cube into the sink behind them and bent to kiss away the cold.

She whimpered into his mouth, meshing her hands in his hair, and sucked on his tongue, greedy for him in a way that decimated his self-control. All he wanted in the world was to bury himself inside her. He settled temporarily for stroking his thumbs over her hard nipples in quick, insistent caresses as he kissed her neck.

Shifting her weight for balance, she bent her right leg up around his hip. Serena’s flexibility was enough to make a grown man weep with joy. Cupping her backside, he pressed her closer as they kissed. He couldn’t stop himself from moving against her, and she ground her own hips to meet his. As he reached for the zipper on her pants, he realized she was tugging at his clothes, too. He didn’t have the remaining strength and coordination to support them both and explore her with the thoroughness he desired. Shrugging out of his shirt, he pulled her down to the smooth, cool surface of the linoleum floor with him.

Her capris remained on, but were loose around her waist as she lay on her side. With one arm around her, he nudged her to her back, finally in a position to lavish her breasts with hungry attention. He sucked on one engorged tip, then switched sides as he slid a hand down inside the silky confines of her panties. And then into the hot silky confines of her.

She was so wet. He brushed his fingers against her damp, swollen flesh, easily moving in and out of her, and the intimate knowledge of just how aroused she was spurred him to a more frantic pace. Before he fully comprehended what was happening, her soft, breathy murmurs became a wordless cry and she stiffened against his hand, her body bucking with small, silent ripples.

He’d had no idea she was so close. The intensity of her reaction was a marvel—making him feel powerful and humble and protective. He hugged her to him, partly to give her a moment to catch her breath, partly to express some of the wordless emotion that had swelled inside him.

She buried her face into his bare chest. “That…I don’t normally—It’s been a while.”

Hypocritically pleased as he was by the fact she hadn’t done this any time recently, his male pride was still a little pricked by her reasoning. Her exploding in his arms was not due to a dry spell, dammit, it was the chemistry between them. The perfect way to prove that would be to bring her to a second orgasm now, when she could no longer claim a sex-starved body.

But she didn’t give him that chance. She was already scooting away, her gaze darting around the kitchen, most likely seeking her discarded shirt. Damn, damn, damn.

“Serena.” Short of imploring her to change her mind, he wasn’t sure what to say. Not to mention his body was aroused to such a frustrating degree he was having a hard time speaking. Pun intended.

But along with the receding passion in her dazed expression, he saw confusion and vulnerability. The last thing he’d wanted was to upset her—he’d only been trying to convince her there was something between them. Something potent.

The tiny frown lines puckering her forehead sliced across his heart. She looked lost. He clenched his fists at his sides to keep himself from reaching for her again.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were almost a sob as she clutched her shirt to her front. “That was incredibly selfish of me. I shouldn’t have allowed things to get so carried away when I never intended to let them…I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

“It’s not that you owe me anything, Serena. I enjoyed that as much as you did.” He gritted his teeth against the discomfort of uneased need. “All right, maybe not as much, but I touched you because I wanted to. And because it was what you wanted.” For reasons he still didn’t get, she was reluctant to admit it.

She zipped her pants as she rose, then shrugged into her shirt. He wondered if it was pathetically simple-minded of him that for the rest of the day he’d be thinking about the fact she had no bra on underneath.




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