“It was just a kiss.”

“It wasn’t ‘just’ anything, sweetheart.” Justin turned his head toward Olivia, his eyes erotically intense. “And try looking at it from the other side, if you don’t believe me,” he continued. “Are you honestly saying you couldn’t make a few educated guesses about my performance now?”

Flames licked through her blood. On the job, her vibrant visualization skills served her well, but all they were helping with now was raising the temperature inside the car. Justin sliding the straps of her bra down her shoulders, kissing her exposed skin…lowering her to a mattress, covering her body with his weight…kissing her as she straddled him…

Olivia wanted to tell him that his performance was none of her concern. But if she opened her mouth to speak, the words take me would spill out of their own volition.

Dear Reader,

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve decided on a clear plan, only to have it go…well, kablooey is the word that springs to mind. Cartoonlike, but accurate. Has this ever happened to you? It’s about to happen to Olivia Lockhart and Justin Hawthorne.

With a recent breakup behind her, Olivia has vowed not to repeat her past romantic mistakes. She’s going to find someone more stable than sexy and more interested in committing than flirting—despite her attraction to irresistible photographer Justin Hawthorne. Justin, who finished raising his sisters after his parents’ deaths, has just seen his youngest sister off to college and has resolved to reclaim his bachelor freedom—which does not include settling down with one woman. But the best-laid plans are no match for love!

I hope you enjoy Justin and Olivia’s story. I love entertaining readers, and I also love hearing from them. You can write me at t.michaels@earthlink.net or visit my Web site at www.tanyamichaels.com for information on giveaways and upcoming releases.

Wishing you plans that go smoothly, or at least plenty of laughter when they don’t!

Tanya Michaels

Books by Tanya Michaels

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

968—HERS FOR THE WEEKEND

HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

6—WHO NEEDS DECAF?

HARLEQUIN DUETS

96—THE MAID OF DISHONOR

Sheer Decadence

Tanya Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Rachelle Wadsworth, Dorene Graham and Anna DeStefano. Thank you for all the feedback, support, brainstorming and just plain fun!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

1

“BUT DID I tell you what he said after I found him in bed with my roommate?” Olivia Lockhart sat behind her oak desk, scowling at the three-week-old memory of Sean’s parting words. “He said ‘Babe, when a man’s as in demand as I am, it wouldn’t be fair to the women of the world to limit myself to just one.’ I am finished with smooth-talking, good-looking men.”

Was early March way too late to add a New Year’s resolution?

Jeanie, the office receptionist who stood leaning against Olivia’s file cabinet, wrinkled her pixie features into an uncharacteristic grimace. “So you’re going out with ugly men now?”

They were probably more faithful. “I don’t plan on seeing anyone for a while.”

Olivia had spent her dateless high-school years with homemade brownies and her mom’s old Cary Grant movies. Now, she had plenty of dates, but she’d been better off with Cary and the brownies. In fact, if she could find a decent brownie that didn’t go straight to her hips, maybe she could give up men all together.

“If you don’t date, what will you do?” Jeanie’s distressed tone made such an existence sound unthinkable. For her, it probably was.

With her heart-shaped face and ultrashort platinum hair, adorably petite Jeanie looked like head cheerleader for Santa’s elves and had the bubbly personality to match. Men flocked to her, but she’d been pretty serious about the same guy, Albert, for the last few months. Olivia had high hopes for them. She had to have hope for someone.

“I have plenty to keep me busy,” Olivia said. “Friends, work. You know I want to be named Design Supervisor.”

Jeanie narrowed her brown eyes. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re gun-shy?”

“I’m sure.” Getting promoted had been Olivia’s real New Year’s resolution. When she’d been younger, she’d made up for romantic failures by excelling in school. Now, she’d apply the extra energy to her job until she could figure out how to improve her luck with men.

“Because I’d hate to see you cheat yourself out of The One just because of Sean,” Jeanie continued. “Albert has an older brother, and I’d be happy to set you up. He really likes exotic-looking women.”

Suppressing startled laughter, Olivia leaned back in her chair. “Exotic?”

“Well, you’re so tall, and you have all that long black hair. Gives you a mysterious aura.”

“Ah.” As far as she could tell, the only mystery in her life was her track record of bad relationship decisions. She was an otherwise competent woman. “Thanks anyway, Jeanie. If he’s Albert’s brother, I’m sure he’s wonderful, but I’m putting romance on the back burner for a while.”

“But—”

“Maybe we can discuss this later.” Olivia glanced down at the proofs for next month’s catalog on her cluttered desk. “I have a ton of work.”

With a nod and one last sympathetic glance, Jeanie scampered out of the office. The smaller woman often made Olivia feel like an Amazon; today Jeanie left her feeling old and cynical, too. Hard to believe only four years separated her from the twenty-two-year-old receptionist.

Pushing away thoughts of her co-worker, Olivia told herself to focus. She really did have a lot to do. Mondays were always jam-packed, full of new tasks as well as remaining errands that hadn’t been quite finished the week before.

The piles on her desk were organized by “Can put off,” “Must finish or I can’t go home today,” and “So long overdue I don’t even remember what needed to be done with it.” And those stacks threatened to grow even larger with the company’s expansion. Sweet Nothings, an Atlanta-based lingerie catalog had started as a strictly mail-order business, but with increased presence at fashion shows and a tremendously successful Web site, preparations were being made to open brick-and-mortar stores.

To increase buzz, corporate management had asked Olivia’s boss, Steve Reynolds, to bring in a second full-time photographer and begin planning the first ever Sweet Nothings calendar. Until now, their on-staff photographer, Fred, had handled the workload with the help of some freelancers, but Sweet Nothings was evolving every day. Olivia just hoped an upcoming promotion to Design Supervisor would be part of that evolution.

Seeking inspiration for all that remained to be done for the current issue, she thumbed through the catalog that had come out in December. She stopped on a glossy page featuring their most popular model, blond statuesque Stormy, in a lacy negligee.

Looking for something more effective than mistletoe this holiday season? Try surprising him in our burgundy silk… The text went on to detail make, fit and care of the garment, but all any man would care about was the fastest way to get the woman out of it.

Reminding herself that many women bought lingerie for the express purpose of having it removed, she told herself not to be bitter. Her bad mood was ironic since, as a teenager in what her mother had injudiciously dubbed the “ugly duckling period,” Olivia would have thought a single date with a gorgeous worldly man like Sean would translate to infinite bliss. Ha. She wasn’t sure they’d achieved bliss, but whatever they’d shared, it had definitely been finite.

Next time she met a man who seemed too good to be true, she should keep in mind he probably was. You’re too easily seduced. Not in the literal sense, but seduced by the romantic fantasies she’d built up during her wallflower years.

Prior to high school, Olivia had been taller than all but a few boys in her class, and had outweighed many of them. It wasn’t until college, when she’d taken every athletic elective her marketing degree allowed and walked several miles a day just to get around campus, that the last of her “baby fat” had really melted away. By graduation, the only area of her body she hadn’t been able to slenderize was her chest, but men didn’t seem to mind.

Since nothing could be done about her height, she tried to use it to her advantage, projecting confidence she didn’t always feel, a confidence that was at first bolstered by a dramatic increase in dates. It had been exciting to go to clubs on the arms of attractive men and, though the feminist in her cringed to admit it, validating. Too bad so many of her boyfriends had turned out to be jerks—Sean being the most recent in a parade of romantic mistakes.

The breakup, paired with her ethics-free roommate moving out and leaving Olivia to cover both halves of the rent, made this the perfect time to concentrate on becoming Design Supervisor. The promotion would include a raise and a much-coveted corner office. She’d been assigned more responsibilities lately, including her first supervisory role on an upcoming shoot, and she knew she was being tested. Maybe if she got the promotion, she’d dip her toes back into the dating pool, but when she did, she’d find someone nice and reliable, not another sexy playboy heavy on charm and light on scruples.

A knock against the open door startled her—people bucking for advancement shouldn’t be caught staring into space—and she jerked her head up to find a golden Adonis of a man leaning against the doorjamb. His eyes were a clear jewel-tone green, and his face was flawless, with a strong square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. Very tall, he had the kind of broad shoulders that would photograph equally well bare-chested or in a tuxedo shot.

Hardly the first time an incredibly attractive man had appeared in her doorway. Of course, they showed up at 461 when what they really wanted was 416. Story of her life.

“Male models should check in with Meg Jansen,” she told him. “Office 416, on the other side of the elevators.”

He arched a dark blond eyebrow in surprise. “Male models? I wasn’t looking for Meg Jansen. I wanted Olivia—” he consulted the yellow sticky-note in his hand “—Lockhart. Is that you?”

“Y-yes. And you are?”

“Justin Hawthorne,” he introduced himself. “Your photographer for the South Carolina shoot.”

This paragon of masculine appeal? No, no, no. “I believe Fred Elliot is my photographer for our swimwear issue.” She and grizzled veteran Fred already had a solid working relationship, had brainstormed locations and concepts often.

“Sorry, with Fred’s sister sick in Cincinnati, they substituted me for Stormy’s swimsuit shoot.” Justin grinned. “Try saying that three times fast.”

In addition to an obvious sense of humor, he had a great smile. Perfect even white teeth. A half dimple to the left of his mouth.

You are not going to notice his mouth.

Too late.

“I wanted to drop by and introduce myself before the meeting this afternoon,” he told her. “Steve just hired me away from Hilliard High Life, the sporting goods line for the ski-lodge and country-club set.”

She nodded to indicate familiarity with Hilliard’s catalog, but she’d only partially heard everything after hired. She’d assumed Justin was one of the freelancers, not realizing Steve had made a final decision.

“Don’t worry,” Justin added. “I’ve got plenty of experience, so you’ll be in good hands.”

The thought of being in his experienced hands made her mouth go dry. “Um…right, okay.”

He glanced past her shoulder at the bold painting that hung behind her desk. “Interesting.”

She followed his gaze. Her original Kallie Carmichael had been a gift to herself when she’d received her very first promotion at Sweet Nothings, graduating from copywriter to the layout team. The obscure artist’s use of bright colors and odd abstract visuals drew mixed reactions. Olivia wondered if Justin, as Sean first had, would pretend to like it in order to impress her.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I’m not wild about it.”

Well, if he hadn’t appreciated Kallie’s brilliant work, at least he’d been honest.

“I much prefer Ms. Carmichael’s later pieces,” he added. “Particularly the series in green she called Rebirth.”

She blinked. “You know who Kallie Carmichael is?”

His grin widened. “Did you think you were her only fan?”

What she thought was that Justin Hawthorne had one of the best smiles she’d ever seen.

When she couldn’t form an immediate answer, he nodded a quick goodbye. “See you at this afternoon’s meeting.”

Once he’d gone, Olivia exhaled in frustration and self-disgust. There was no good reason for her mind to have gone blank and her pulse to have jumped. Yes, he was incredible-looking, but so what? Her last boyfriend had been a model, and a very clear lesson that the insides weren’t always as attractive as the outside suggested.

Still, something about Justin…Don’t think of him as Justin. Think of him as Mr. Hawthorne. Or the photographer. Or even “that guy.” The less personal, the better.

They did have something in common, though. While she hadn’t been able to afford any of the paintings, Rebirth was a favorite series of hers, too. But shared admiration of an artist was no reason to lust after a co-worker she hardly knew. Co-worker. She clung to the steadying reminder that they’d be working together.

Securing her promotion required consummate professionalism, not drooling over J—that guy.

STACCATO high-heeled footsteps and accompanying feminine voices passed through the hall outside the Human Resources office, where Justin was completing personnel paperwork. One woman laughed, and the unabashed husky sound held just the right note of mischief to pique his interest. She sounded like someone who knew how to have fun.

Turning in his chair, he glanced through the open door and did a double take when he saw Olivia Lockhart. She stood waiting for the elevator with an attractive black woman, chuckling at something her friend had said. So much for first impressions.

When Olivia had first looked up at him this morning, he’d experienced a slash of desire—her clear gray eyes were a striking contrast to her jet-black hair and full red lips—but as beautiful as she was, she’d also seemed aloof. He’d wondered at the time if Olivia was always so withdrawn, or if she’d objected to something about him specifically. She certainly didn’t seem withdrawn now.

Her quick grin and earthy laugh heightened the attraction he’d felt earlier, and he watched her enter the elevator, appreciating the way her dark skirt hugged shapely hips. Between his line of work and having two younger sisters, Justin had run into a number of females who were dedicated to the pursuit of a stick figure. Personally, Justin liked women who were shaped like women. Olivia’s curves were damn near perfect.

“Almost finished?” The assistant HR manager, Kate Ames, tugged his thoughts away from Olivia and back to work. A young brunette with wavy hair and a bright smile, Kate had been nothing but friendly.

He nodded. “Just about.”

Two questions left, and he’d be a certified employee of Sweet Nothings. Excitement pulsed through him, not just because of the job—although what was not to love about photographing lingerie models?—but because of what this career change represented. For almost seven years, he’d dutifully put his wants and needs, from occupational choices to his love life, on hold. He’d taken on responsibilities he’d never expected, but now it was time to reclaim his life, be a little selfish. To begin with, he’d make up for the too many nights he’d slept alone. There were dozens of hot women out there, and he wanted to meet as many of them as possible.

Still, despite his enthusiasm over the new job, he had trouble refocusing on his paperwork. Which was the real Olivia: the coolly contained woman he’d encountered earlier, or the woman he’d watched in the hall, the one with the hint of wickedness in her laugh?

“I DON’T KNOW how you do it,” Meg Jansen said.

Ignoring the enticing scent of her friend’s French fries, Olivia picked at her salad. “If you’d seen me in high school, you’d know how I do it.” The willpower had been hard-earned, but worth it.

This is what’s wrong with my love life. Outside of finally ending a long-standing affair with Ben and Jerry, when it came to men, Olivia hadn’t found the self-discipline to replace the decadent with the nutritious. Men like Sean fell into the “dessert” category—no matter how tempting they were, they weren’t healthy in the long run.

Meg shook her head sadly. “All your attention to a well-balanced diet and getting up every morning to jog…that can’t be good for you.” Though Meg’s own curves ran toward the ample side, she was beautiful, dark-skinned with a close cap of short curls that accentuated her high cheekbones and wide hazel eyes, and she was at ease with her body in a way Olivia envied.

“No fries,” her friend continued. “Never any dessert. You don’t smoke. Jeanie says now no men, either? Tell me you have some vice I don’t know about, or I’m gonna worry about you just snapping one day.”

“So if I said I was a shopaholic, or drank martinis every afternoon, you’d feel better?”

“Much. Repression is not healthy.”

“Martinis are?”

“Maybe, maybe not…let’s discuss it over a round of drinks.”

Olivia laughed. “I’d love to, but this afternoon is one of Steve’s meetings.”

“In that case, we’d better order two rounds. Honest to God, that man can talk longer and say less than anyone I’ve ever met.” Meg swabbed another fry through ketchup. “Are you really going on a no-men kick?”

A kick that would be easier to uphold without Justin Hawthorne around. His smile had been plaguing her all morning. Okay, his smile and the first-rate buns she’d ogled when he’d turned and left her office.

“Not forever. And I’m not giving up all men, just a certain type. Sean lasted longer than the guy before him, but in the end…” Olivia speared a crouton on her fork with a crunch.

She wouldn’t say she was brokenhearted, exactly; the sting of finding Sean in bed with Candace had been more like a deep and unexpected paper cut. But the humiliation alone was something she’d never wish on another person, the embarrassment of having wrongly trusted, the paranoia of wondering how long it had been going on and whether or not they’d laughed at her.

If she hadn’t loved Sean, she’d at least thought they were working toward that possibility. During their six months together, his publicly flirtatious manner had sometimes bothered her, but he’d said it was just part of his professional persona. So she’d ignored her instincts, swayed by the argument that she was misjudging him based on previous bad apples. Turned out he was a lot like other McIntoshes and Granny Smiths she’d known.

Well, no man was making a fool of her again.

“You’re better off without him,” Meg said quietly.

“Hey, I’m just glad it happened when it did. A couple days later, I wouldn’t have been able to return his Valentine’s Day gift for a full refund.”

Meg ignored the attempted joke. “Not all men are like that.”

But I pick the ones who are. “Right, and I’m going to look for a completely different type of man. Just not yet. You know I want the design promotion, so as soon as I get back from vacation—”

“The doomed vacation?”

“Not doomed, postponed.”

Originally, Olivia and Sean had planned to go to the remote Pacific island resort of Kaokara together, but had rescheduled because he’d been sick. When she thought of how she’d taken the rat fink her homemade chicken noodle soup…. Olivia had been forced to reschedule again when a last-minute crisis arose at work. Now she planned to take the trip alone, needing the tropical rest and relaxation more than ever.

“I reconfirmed my flight this morning. The minute that shoot in South Carolina is wrapped up, I am out of here.” Mentioning the beach assignment reminded Olivia of the startling switch in photographers. “Hey, did you know Fred’s sister was sick?”

“I heard she needs an operation. Her prognosis is great, but Fred’s going down for a little while to help with her kids. What brought that up?”

“The new photographer, Justin Hawthorne. He’s being officially introduced at the meeting this afternoon. He dropped by my office earlier to let me know he’s going with me Wednesday. Met him yet?”

“Nope, I was tied up on the phone all morning with modeling agencies. Is he anything like Fred?”

“They could not be more different.” Unfortunately. “I mistook him for one of your guys gone astray.”

Meg arched an eyebrow. “He’s as attractive as our male models?”

Better. “Close enough.”

“Oh, good, new eye candy!” Meg leaned back with a grin. “Maybe this afternoon’s meeting won’t be so boring after all.”

Not sharing her friend’s enthusiasm, Olivia smiled weakly. After a brief dating fast, she was going to change her ways—stop dating yummy heartbreakers and find a nice reliable man and a healthy relationship, the romantic equivalent of salad. She didn’t need the temptation of walking pieces of chocolate like Justin Hawthorne.

2

OLIVIA WAS somewhat dismayed that, as soon as she set foot in the conference room, her gaze went to Justin in spite of the other people present. She barely saw Meg point out the seat she’d saved or noted that the side table actually held herbal tea today. Normally, there was just coffee, another one of Olivia’s nonvices.

Instead of paying attention to any of that, her eyes followed Justin. It was as if the meeting were being captioned in the same romanticized style as their upscale catalog. Although casually attired in dark denim and a white button-down shirt, there was nothing casual about the intimacy of his warm smile.

She blinked. Good thing she had that vacation coming up.

Standing at the head of the table, wearing a tie that made one wonder how he’d landed a job in the fashion world, Steve Reynolds smiled. “Liv, you’re here. Great, we can get started.”

As someone who had spent the fourth grade as “Big Liv,” she despised the nickname Liv, but not enough to remind her promotion-wielding—or withholding—boss.

People began taking seats around the dark oval table, and Steve pointed toward the still-standing Justin. “Everyone, this is Justin Hawthorne, the newest member of our team. We were lucky enough to steal him from Hilliard. Liv, he’ll be your photographer for the swimsuit spread. Justin Hawthorne, meet Olivia Lockhart.”

Olivia opened her mouth to tell Steve that she’d met the photographer, but Justin cut her off.

“Nice to officially make your acquaintance.” He took her hand and she almost jumped, surprised by the contact and by how immediately his skin warmed hers.

He pulled his fingers away, but the heat of his touch remained. Her pulse quickened, and Olivia sat down, harboring high hopes for the calming effects of the chamomile tea Meg pushed toward her.

Steve began the meeting with his customary call for new ideas, which he preempted with his own. To his credit, Steve often had wonderful ideas, but was it really necessary to pause at studied intervals so his underlings could fawn over his brilliance? Olivia had learned that the best way to get along with her boss was to tune him out the majority of the time. Listening with half an ear for anything that might apply to her, she let her attention wander.

Unfortunately, it wandered to Justin Hawthorne two chairs down, to his smile and the brush of his hand against hers. She tried to recall what he’d smelled like, but she’d been so overwhelmed by his touch that she hadn’t had time to notice. Expensive cologne? A simple aftershave? Soap?

His grin was killer, and she tried to imagine his laugh. Deep, probably. A sexy rumble of amusement.

She sighed. Didn’t she ever learn? When a man looked like sin in jeans, it was best to stay far away from him, not dwell on his mouth, or the color of his eyes, which were the green of very deep water off Florida’s Emerald Coast….

Okay, she was fine now. She just needed to concentrate on something patently unsexy to combat Justin’s appeal and the boredom of this meeting. Aha! Her clogged sink, filled with brown gunk that morning because something had come up through the pipes and the super hadn’t come in to fix it before she left for work. Problem solved.

“…with Justin and Olivia.”

At the sound of her name, Olivia’s gaze shot to her boss.

“The two of you can discuss concepts and location on the drive up.”

She and Justin would be riding together, staying at the same hotel. In two very separate rooms, she reminded herself, annoyed by her juvenile twinge of excitement. Plus, the models and crew would be there. Nothing cozy about the setting at all.

“Liv, I liked your preliminary layout descriptions. Just make sure you and Justin are on the same page and that we get what we need.”

She had great ideas she couldn’t wait to use for promoting their new line of swimwear. Of course, none of those ideas came to mind just now. She was sidetracked by images of her and her photographer, alone on a romantic beach. What was that old movie where the couple kissed as waves crashed over them?

Telling herself sand was more gritty than sexy, Olivia dutifully fixated on her broken sink. A new picture flashed behind her eyes: Justin standing in her kitchen, clothed only in a pair of jeans and a toolbelt.

Then Steve mentioned that the South Carolina trip had been moved to Thursday, and she completely—well, partially, anyway—forgot about a shirtless Justin in her apartment.

“Moved to Thursday?” She couldn’t finish the two-day shoot in time to catch her Friday flight. “No one mentioned that to me.”

“It was just decided,” Steve explained impatiently. “Justin can’t go Wednesday.”

“B-but I leave for my vacation Friday.” It wasn’t as though flights to the small island left Hartsfield every day; who knew when she could arrange the next one? With the fashion show coming up, she’d been lucky to squeeze in time off now.

Steve shrugged. “So you’ll take your vacation some other time. I know it can be rescheduled because you’ve already done it for us once. And we appreciate what a team player you are, Liv.”

The veiled threat didn’t escape her. Team players got promoted. People who balked at rescheduling got passed over and were forever doomed to small offices with no windows.

When the interminable meeting finally ended, Olivia and her co-workers slunk from the room to return to their offices and rediscover their wills to live. She had just made it inside her own office when Justin surprised her, asking from her doorway, “Are they always like that?”

“Long and boring? Yep. Steve is—” Mentally, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Complaining with Meg at lunch away from the office was one thing. Saying something derogatory about management here, in front of someone she didn’t even know, was stupid. Normally, she didn’t make workplace faux pas, but she’d been distracted all day.

The reason for her distraction stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. When he bypassed the two upholstered chairs available in favor of leaning casually on the corner of her desk, she discovered that he smelled like a maddening mixture of denim, spicy cologne and male.

“I wanted to apologize for the trip postponement,” he said. “Steve assured me that bending the schedule would be no problem. I never would have asked if it weren’t important, but my—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” If her appendix burst Wednesday, Steve would have insisted she be a team player, crawl out of her hospital bed, and get her butt to South Carolina.

“Maybe I could make it up to you sometime,” he suggested with a flirtatious smile. “Buy you lunch, or something.”

“No!” Go out alone with Justin? Bad idea. And she didn’t even want to think about the “or something.” “That’s not necessary.”

He blinked, and she realized her immediate refusal had probably made her sound like the office poster child for PMS.

She backtracked quickly, not taking the time to organize her thoughts. “I meant to say, no, thank you. Nice offer, but, I, um, have these restrictions. Salad only.” Which he most definitely wasn’t.

“I hear a lot of places serve that now.” His lazy grin held just the right amount of amusement—teasing, but not mocking.

“Right. Of course. Bad example. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve sort of given up…” She stopped, thank God, just shy of explaining about walking chocolate. Which he most definitely was. “It’s a diet thing.”

Justin pushed himself away from the desk, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women.”

“Excuse me?” Unless he meant one of those women who couldn’t string together a coherent sentence—which she blamed on how good he smelled—he was about to be in trouble.

“Someone with hang-ups about her body, who always wishes she were skinnier.”

The angry heat that blazed through her had nothing to do with his hitting close to home, it was based on principle. “You’ve known me for a matter of hours, Mr. Hawthorne, and you think that gives you the right to diagnose any so-called hang-ups?”

He grimaced. “In my defense, I was headed toward a compliment.”

“Yeah?” She crossed her arms. “Well, you took a wrong turn somewhere.”

His gaze slid down her body. “What I should have said is that you…don’t need to…”

He trailed off, his male admiration too frank to need words. Olivia tried to be offended by the perusal—who the hell was he to so boldly assess her and pronounce judgment? Her body, on the other hand, must’ve missed the memo on political correctness. Her skin prickled with awareness, growing warmer. His expression shifted as he raised his eyes back to hers. The appreciation had been replaced by something deeper, more urgent, and Olivia swallowed.

Even if she’d been able to muster any indignation, it would have been a tad hypocritical coming from someone so recently having toolbelt fantasies.

“Justin, I—”

“That’s an improvement,” he interrupted approvingly. “Much better than ‘Mr. Hawthorne.’ I’d like us to be on a friendly basis.”

Just how friendly did he have in mind? Desire swirled through her abdomen, warm and thick and slow, like honey.

“Olivia?” A knock accompanied Jeanie’s voice on the other side of the closed door.

Blinking, Olivia tried to reorient herself to her surroundings. For a moment there, she’d forgotten she was even at the office. Carefully looking past Justin, not wanting to risk meeting his eyes again, she called back, “Come on in, Jeanie. I have those proofs ready.”

The door opened and Jeanie stepped inside, her expression hesitant. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I—hello. You must be Justin.”

Smiling, he shook Jeanie’s hand, and annoyance caught Olivia off guard. A moment ago, he’d used that smile on her. Had she reacted with the same girlish, awestruck expression that was now on Jeanie’s face? Probably. Less than a full day into a new resolution to change her dating diet, and here she’d been, devouring Justin with her eyes and going all trembly and fluttery inside when he locked gazes with her.

She just needed some distance, time to regroup and strengthen her resolve.

Once Jeanie had the manila folder she’d come in for, she walked away, stopping at the door with an inquisitive glance in Olivia’s direction.

“Please, leave it open,” Olivia said. “Justin was on his way out.”

Judging from his raised eyebrows, this was news to him, but he turned without argument. As Jeanie had done, he paused at the entrance to the office. “We can just finish our discussion later,” he said with a wink.

He’d winked at her? It was such a kitschy thing to do, yet she didn’t hear bad ’70s pickup lines in her head. Instead, she was tempted to smile. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the threat of “finishing” their chat. Let’s see, which part was she most eager to revisit—why she didn’t think it would be a good idea to have lunch with him, what he thought of her figure, or how attuned their bodies had been? No thank you. With any luck, this little encounter would never come up again.

As if she’d ever had any luck with men.

AFTER A NIGHT spent in an apartment empty of her ex-boyfriend’s presence and her ex-roommate’s couch, Olivia entered the office Tuesday with renewed resolve. Her thoughts had strayed to Justin Hawthorne several times during the night, but echoes of heartache and humiliation had quelled her unwise attraction. Lifting her chin, Olivia strode toward her office, saying good morning to Jeanie as she passed. I’m here to work, not think about men.

Three hours later, she leaned back in her chair, congratulating herself on a productive morning. She’d even managed a quick conversation with Steve on the interoffice line without wanting to strangle the man with his own necktie.

“I deserve a break,” she muttered, stretching her muscles as she stood. A cup of tea sounded good, and maybe she’d drop by Meg’s office on the way back from the break room, see if her friend had any fun model gossip this morning.

The break room was a beige room with scuffed cabinets and absolutely zero decorative qualities. There was, however, always a ready supply of hot and cold beverages, the day’s copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution to read, and usually people with whom to shoot the breeze. All in all, a good source of procrastination.

Today, the coffee room’s inhabitants were female, with one notable exception.

Justin Hawthorne sat in a blue plastic chair amid five women, including Kate from HR; Steve’s personal secretary, Diane; a couple of ladies from accounting; and even sixty-seven-year-old Ms. Phipps, who kept casting wish-I-were-forty-years-younger glances in Justin’s direction.

The admiring glances Olivia could empathize with, but really, had Diane forgotten this was a place of business? When the curvy redhead asked Justin if she could have the issue of the AJC lying on the table in front of him, she managed to phrase the request in a breathless sultry tone that insinuated she wanted something much more. Instead of waiting for him to hand her the paper, she slowly leaned forward, brushing against him in a way Kate could have used as the what-not-to-do example in her sexual-harassment seminar.

Waggling his eyebrows, Justin said something in a low voice that caused Diane to laugh, and Olivia ground her teeth. Her annoyance was only heightened when she couldn’t help an admiring glance of her own. No man should look that good! His all-black attire today was a great foil for his light hair and bright eyes.

Basic black is back, and what could be sexier?

The man lounged in his chair like a sexy monarch surveying his coffee-scented kingdom. Or a sheikh with his harem. Olivia reached blankly for one of the mugs kept over the sink, but instead of seeing the cabinet in front of her, she envisioned herself in a flimsy costume of veils, summoned by Justin to—

“Morning.” His warm deep voice in her ear caused her to jump, and she clenched the handle of the blue mug to keep from dropping it.

“Justin! I didn’t notice you.” More accurately, she’d been too lost in her own torrid fantasies to see him stand up.

“Apparently.” He raised a dark blond brow. “Not very flattering, you realize.”

Olivia said nothing as she filled her mug with water. Was his teasing comment an invitation for her to appease his ego? Why would he need it when, as far as she could tell, the other women in the room had been generously feeding his self-esteem?

Sean’s parting words echoed in her mind. It wouldn’t be fair to the women of the world to limit myself to just one. Was Justin cut from the same cloth? Wanting that sixth woman’s attention when he already had the adoration of five, including a gorgeous redheaded secretary who was now glaring daggers at Olivia? Was that all the moment of sexual connection in her office yesterday had been about? For a few seconds, with his eyes on hers, he’d made her feel no one existed beyond the two of them, but maybe he would have behaved the same with any other woman.

Justin reached past Olivia to the coffeemaker, glancing over his shoulder at the female-inhabited table. “Did you want sugar in this, Ms. Phipps?”

“Two packets, please.”

As he stirred the sugar into the cup he’d just filled, Olivia sighed. It was much easier to maintain her cynical image of the man when he was enjoying Diane’s cleavage instead of doing a favor for the elderly Ms. Phipps.

Diane, however, wasn’t impressed with his small act of kindness. She left the room in an I’m-not-used-to-sharing-a-man’s-attention huff. The two women Olivia recognized from accounting followed behind, chatting as they walked, but they both shot wistful glances in Justin’s direction.

Seemingly oblivious, he handed Ms. Phipps her cup of coffee.

The older woman smiled. “Thank you, but I should be getting back to work now, too.”

“My loss,” Justin said with a rakish smile.

Olivia grabbed a single-serving bag of decaffeinated tea, wondering if he was a great guy who was kind to his elders, or if he was just so in the habit of flirting that he never turned it off.

After the small exodus of women, the only one remaining was Kate, who sidled closer to Justin and delicately cleared her throat. “So, um, about that dinner….”

“I’ll call you after the South Carolina trip,” Justin said. “You pick out the restaurant.”

Not a week on the job and he already had a date. Now why isn’t that surprising? The only surprise was that his plans were with fresh-faced Kate and not Diane, who stood a better chance at holding her own with a man in Justin’s league. Trying to look like something other than a disapproving eavesdropper, Olivia set her mug in the microwave.

Kate bounced out of the room with the enthusiasm of a teenager who’d just been asked to the prom, and Olivia almost winced on the poor girl’s behalf. When Olivia had been younger, she’d worn her heart on her sleeve in much the same way…but after it had been broken a few times, she’d moved it for safekeeping.

Instead of also leaving now that his admirers had gone, Justin leaned against the counter. She watched the microwave, willing it to beep. Thursday, when she’d be trapped in the car with him, was plenty soon enough to be alone with him. She pondered the possibility of his becoming less sexy between now and then. Was there a polite, logical way to insist he didn’t wear black?

Probably not.

TRYING NOT TO BE too obvious, Justin studied his beautiful co-worker. Her gray eyes were frosty today, with no hint of the molten silver desire he’d seen—and felt—yesterday in her office. He wanted to cajole her into a more receptive mood, to prove the woman he’d seen glimpses of was in there somewhere.

“How’s your day going, Liv?” He assumed she went by the office nickname, but, personally, he didn’t think it suited her.

The more lyrical Olivia fit perfectly—as did the navy turtleneck and long tailored skirt she wore. There was a sexy contrast between how little skin was revealed and how boldly the lush curves of her body were delineated. Stopping short of a noticeable leer, he discreetly traced those curves with his gaze, wishing it were with his hands instead.

“Fine.” She dipped her tea bag in her mug. “Busy.”

Not a woman of many words.

Licking her lips, she took a step forward to go around him. “I should be getting back to my office.”

The scent of her light floral perfume and the warmer fragrance of her body wafted over him. “You smell incredible.”

She froze, spine rigid, her only movement the now double-time dunking of her tea. If he didn’t know better, he’d say her expression was hurt. He was willing to admit that yesterday, when he’d commented on her figure, his words had come out wrong, but now he could only conclude that the lady didn’t take flattery well. She ducked her head, and her long wavy hair fell over her shoulder in a dark curtain, partially obscuring her face.

“I meant it in the complimentary sense,” he said.

“Yes. I know.”

“I thought women liked it when men notice personal details and comment.”

“Maybe some do.” She looked up then, her eyes steely. “Personally, I’ve had my fill of handsome charmers with ulterior motives.”

“Now hold on a second.” Noticing the way her skirt hugged her tight perfect derriere wasn’t a motive. He’d get back to that handsome and charming part later. “I—”

“I apologize.” She exhaled, her shoulders rounding. “You said something kind, and I was rude.”

More defensive than rude, and her eyes reflected a vulnerability that seemed an odd reaction to a comment on her perfume.

Justin told himself to end this exchange and forget it ever happened. After the responsibilities of the last few years, responsibilities that unofficially ended tomorrow night, he’d earned the right to uncomplicated fun. Olivia’s changing moods and mixed signals screamed complications.

A man with any brains would ask Diane out when he got back from South Carolina. He’d been caught off guard by Kate’s dinner invitation and reflexively said yes, but she seemed like a sweet kid who needed an equally sweet boyfriend. Justin was looking for something a little less lasting—simple, clear-cut, adult enjoyment.

He looked into Olivia’s soft gray eyes, and desire tightened his body. Too bad he didn’t think the offer of no-strings fun would appeal to her.

“Maybe I should be the one apologizing,” he said, “if my remarks were too personal for the workplace.”

“No, I overreacted. I’ve been…never mind. Maybe you really are a nice guy.”

“Just ‘maybe’?” he teased, giving her a look of mock-indignation.

She laughed, and the husky sound affected him even more viscerally than when he’d overheard it yesterday, because this time he’d won it from her. Her open, welcoming expression was unexpected and transformed her from attractive to so sexy his breath caught.

He held the door open, and as she passed by, she tossed one last smile over her shoulder. “I really am sorry if I’ve been curt. I’m glad we’re going to be working together, Justin.”

So was he. Particularly if he got to work with this Olivia, not the one behind the guarded mask. He’d just have to see what he could do to keep this Olivia around more often.

3

WEDNESDAY EVENING, long after the daily noise of the office had dropped to just a few remaining employees shutting down their computers, Jeanie poked her head through the doorway to Olivia’s office. “I’m about to take off.”

Olivia waggled her fingers in a half wave. “See you tomorrow.” Unfortunately. No sunny Kaokara for her.

The blonde hovered indecisively, fidgeting until Olivia finally asked, “Something else I can do for you?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to dinner with us? Albert’s brother is very nice.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’m just going to head home.”

Having made one last failed effort at the double date, Jeanie nodded. The other woman was gone before Olivia could admit anything stupid—such as, she’d be a lousy dinner date with Justin Hawthorne on her mind.

Could he really be the exception womankind hoped for, the stunningly sexy man who was still a nice guy? After their brief interlude in the breakroom yesterday, she’d chided herself for having painted him with the same brush as Sean just because he was good-looking. So he and Kate were having dinner sometime after the shoot, that was hardly grounds for labeling him Womanizer of the Year.

Her stomach growled, turning her thoughts from Justin’s future dinner plans to her own immediate ones. She gathered her belongings and took the elevator down to her car, looking forward to food and a relaxing bath. About halfway to her apartment, however, she realized that she’d finished off her emergency store of groceries the night before. The sole contents of her fridge were wilted lettuce and half-empty condiment bottles of everything from lime juice to Worcestershire sauce.

Deli takeout it is, then.

By the time she pulled into a parking garage close to her favorite downtown delicatessen, she was starving. She hurried across the sidewalk, her trench coat not completely protecting her from the crisp evening air. As she waited at the intersection for oncoming traffic to stop, she shot an envious sidelong glance toward the expensive four-star restaurant on the corner.

Lacking an occasion big enough to justify the price tag, she’d never dined there. Now, she unconsciously pressed a hand to her empty stomach and fantasized about the meals lucky patrons were enjoying inside. She covertly studied the candlelit booths on the other side of the thick glass window and tried not to feel too much like a gastronomical Peeping Tom.

Justin.

Her jaw dropped as she did a double take. Yes, that was definitely Justin Hawthorne inside.

Aware she was staring openly, Olivia snapped her gaze to the blinking red upraised hand across the street. But a quick glance back showed Justin hadn’t noticed her. His attention was fully devoted to the beautiful blonde seated across from him, a slim young woman in a little black dress.

The blonde reached across the table for Justin’s hand, and anger churned in the pit of Olivia’s stomach. She’d rescheduled her vacation for a dinner date! She should be in South Carolina tonight and en route to her vacation Friday, but Justin had ruined that with his “emergency.”

The sign on the other side of the crosswalk finally changed, flashing the picture of a stick-figure pedestrian, and she marched forward, fuming. She wasn’t an unreasonable woman. If tonight’s date had been, for instance, an anniversary or a marriage proposal, she could’ve understood. But if the blonde was a serious girlfriend, what was he doing flirting with Diane and making dinner plans with Kate?

Either leading on the poor sweet kid from HR, or taking a leaf from Sean’s book and cheating on his girlfriend.

Fists clenched, Olivia entered the deli. As the warm air and aroma of fresh-baked bread hit her, she realized she didn’t actually have much of an appetite left. She’d spent all day castigating herself for hastily judging him, telling herself that his being attractive wasn’t a crime. She’d apologized to him, made a point of being extra friendly when she’d seen him in the parking garage this morning—only to learn he was like too many other men, interested in beautiful women and his own selfish pleasure. Forget work or any inconvenience to anyone else’s life.

Her first self-protective instincts about Justin Hawthorne had been right. Every inch The Guy, a creature with more testosterone than conscience, he should have a bright orange warning label smacked across his forehead. Why couldn’t she learn once and for all to stop pushing aside prudence in favor of a handsome smile?

JUSTIN WALKED into the dim smoky interior of Hewitt’s Bar shortly before midnight. Although he’d need to get out of bed before dawn to drive Andrea to the airport, he’d been restless after they’d returned from dinner, so he’d called his friend Bryan Tanner to meet for a couple of beers and a game of pool. On the weekend, when management brought a DJ in, Hewitt’s was a popular spot to socialize and meet women. In the middle of the week, business was slightly slower, and it was a great place to come for a quick drink.

Lifting his gaze to the television set above the bar that was broadcasting the day’s sports highlights, Justin waited for his chance to order. He’d drink to getting his life back. Tomorrow, his nineteen-year-old-sister Andrea would leave for a prestigious cooking school in Europe. His obligation would be fulfilled.

When his parents had been killed in a boating accident shortly after his twenty-second birthday, Justin had taken on the unexpected responsibility of raising his two sisters. A decade older than Andrea, with Lisa in the middle, he’d made a lot of unplanned changes to his young bachelor life to set a good example and supplement the life insurance settlement to provide for his sisters. He loved them both dearly, but over the years, whenever the situation had been especially stressful, he’d repeatedly vowed that as soon as he had the house to himself, he would make up for lost time.

That started tomorrow. Lisa was in a co-op program at Auburn, with a job lined up after next year’s graduation, and now Andy was headed abroad.

A woman shuffling a round plastic tray jostled him. “Hey, handsome. Don’t usually see you in here so late.”

He smiled at the blond waitress—Natalie, if he recalled correctly. “I had something to celebrate.”

“You’ll be here all night if you wait on Kurt.” She nodded to the other side of the room where the bartender was taking his time mixing a drink for an attractive patron. “Have a seat in my section, and I’ll bring something over.”

Justin asked for a draft beer, then chose an empty booth against the wall. His future loomed promising and new, devoid of helping anyone with homework, having awkward discussions about dating or attending sports events and milestone ceremonies that their parents should have been here to see.

Natalie sauntered up to his table with a full frosty mug. “So what are we celebrating?”

The freedom to walk around at home stark naked if he felt like it, the freedom not to worry that he was a lousy day-to-day role model. “New job.”

Freelance photography hadn’t been dependable enough for a man raising two sisters and the travel that had excited him became an obstacle. He’d taken a job in design at Hilliard, but had jumped at the chance to join Sweet Nothings now that they were expanding. On-staff photographers were costly, and Justin, though his portfolio displayed his talent, lacked the experience other candidates could have used to negotiate more money.

“Good for you,” Natalie congratulated him. “Drink’s on the house, then.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, knowing “on the house” probably meant out of her pocket.

“Honey, you’d be surprised what I pull down in tips. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a good-looking woman,” she said with a grin.

“Trust me, I noticed. I’m guessing your boss would object to your sharing a drink with me right now…maybe another time?”

“Ah, but see, that my boyfriend would object to.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” He lifted the mug. “Then I’m no longer celebrating. I’m officially drowning my sorrows.”

She laughed. “Beer’s nice and multipurpose that way. Don’t worry, a guy who looks like you won’t be lonely long. You never know,” she added before moving toward the next table, “maybe you’ll meet someone at this new job.”

Olivia Lockhart’s face came to mind, but he banished it immediately. Never gonna happen. Despite finding their way to friendlier ground in the breakroom yesterday and chatting amiably in the parking garage this morning, he still couldn’t imagine Olivia agreeing to meet him for drinks. She’d find a polite way to turn him down, then avoid him around the office.

“Hey, buddy.” Bryan Tanner, rumpled and grinning as ever, slid in on the other side of the booth, making quick eye contact with Natalie as she passed.

Justin nodded in greeting. “What’s with the lumberjack look?”

His dark-haired friend didn’t truly look like a lumberjack, but the flannel shirt and unshaven stubble along his jaw invited taunting. Heckling each other unofficially cemented their friendship, and since Bryan so often won by default of actually having a life, Justin took his shots where he could get them.

“Go ahead, make fun if you want,” Bryan said with a sly smile, “but the ladies love the casual look.”

The ladies obviously loved something because Justin’s friend never hurt for dates.

Bryan did lucrative contract work setting up network systems all over the country, but between jobs, he roosted in Atlanta. While Justin would never come out and say anything so touchy-feely, he was grateful for the way his friend had stayed in contact despite the traveling. Other ex-college buddies had drifted off sooner, unable to relate to Justin’s sudden domestic crises and raising two young women in the suburbs. Watching Bryan bounce around from place to place, coming home to a different woman each visit, Justin had often envied his friend’s life.

“I don’t get it.” Justin shook his head. “You’re a glorified computer nerd. Do you pay women to spend time with you, or are they compelled by pity?”

Bryan grinned. “It’s all that talk about my hardware. Master and slave drives are nice openers, too.”

Natalie edged up to the table with a bottle of Bryan’s regular beer.

“Thank you, sweet thing. Tell me you aren’t still seeing that boyfriend of yours.”

“Afraid I am.” Natalie smiled at her favorite customer. “And he could still kick your ass, in case that was your next question.”

Justin laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s quite the way with women you have, Bry.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting flack from you,” Bryan complained as the waitress moved away. “The Dateless Wonder.”

An exaggeration, but one with more truth than he would have liked. “Dateless no more. As of tomorrow, you are looking at a man free to accept room keys from hot models.”

“Well, hell, I’ll drink to that.”

Since Justin had done everything possible to make sure his sisters didn’t discover sex until their twenties—or preferably, never—it had seemed wrong to spend his nights elsewhere or to sneak women into the house. There had been one or two relationships, of course, and the occasional weekend when both his sisters were gone, but overall, his love life had not been the stuff a man in his twenties dreams about.

Now, with thirty looming at the end of the month, he had definite plans to make the most of his bachelorhood. He needed some time to focus on himself and not be responsible to or for anyone. He could make dinner plans with a woman without checking the family calendar to see if he was obligated to be anywhere, he could have women over any night of the week.

“So, you gonna introduce me to some of these hot models?” Bryan asked.

“Not a chance,” Justin said with a laugh. “In case there is a woman in the 404 area code you haven’t dated yet, I’d like to meet her first.”

Sweet Nothings was his opportunity for a fresh start. At Hilliard, he’d been the guy who’d missed work when Lisa had her wisdom teeth pulled, the guy who’d taken Andy to the office Christmas party when her loser boyfriend dumped her right at the holidays. But now he was simply Justin Hawthorne, single photographer.

Bryan stood. “C’mon, you said something about a pool game. Try not to cry like a little girl when I take your money.”

“Give it your best shot. I’ll even let you break, but I gotta warn you, I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

Andrea and Lisa were both happy and succeeding on their chosen paths, he loved his new job, and he’d reached a good understanding with Olivia yesterday. Even if she wasn’t interested in celebrating his newfound freedom with him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the most out of working side by side with her. And there were plenty of other mermaids in the sea.

Tomorrow he left for a beach shoot with lingerie models. How much better did one guy’s life get?

No complications, he promised himself.

JEANIE STOOD in Olivia’s office early Thursday morning, theoretically helping with a last-minute check to make sure Olivia wasn’t forgetting anything. In reality, she was mooning over Justin, who had peeked his head in a second ago to tell Olivia he was ready when she was.

“Isn’t he delicious?” The receptionist sighed. “The man is practically edible.”

Olivia wouldn’t mind Justin at her dinner table—with his head on a platter.

“I bumped into him outside Steve’s office this morning,” Jeanie confided, “and, for a second, I thought he was flirting with me. Much nicer pick-me-up than coffee!”

He probably had been flirting with her. The skunk. “I thought you were in love with Albert.”

“I am. But even I have to admit, he’s no Justin.”

Exactly! The Justins of the world were the sexy men women sighed over…and later cried over. The Alberts of the world were the reliable ones who paid bills on time and never cheated on their wives. Once her promotion was in the bag, Olivia would find herself a nice solid Albert.

Last night, she’d gone home to torture herself with the image of Justin in that restaurant with the blonde. She’d also entertained fantasies of confronting him, but that would be like yelling at a leopard about its spots. Pointless.

Though she was entitled to her righteous indignation, fighting with Justin would only be counterproductive. Those up for promotion practiced good people skills and didn’t antagonize Steve’s newest office favorite. Besides, she and Justin needed to cooperate to have a decent shoot. She was adult enough to work with the man and ignore his tawdry personal life.

The receptionist zipped up the laptop in its black carry bag. “Think you’re all set, Liv.”

Olivia bit down on her tongue. It wasn’t the younger woman’s fault that the nickname had spread.

“Your cell phone is charged,” Jeanie continued, “and that’s all the files you asked for. Justin has the keys to the company car, and I had one of the guys transfer your suitcase to the trunk.”

“Thanks, Jeanie.” Olivia picked up her coat and folded it over her arm. “Have a great weekend.”

Reaching the elevator just as the doors were closing, she quickened her steps. “Wait! Hold the elevator, please.”

The silver doors slid back, revealing Justin Hawthorne, an appealing masculine picture in his leather bomber jacket and well-fitting khaki slacks.

“Hey.” He grinned. “I was going to get the map out of my car, then come back upstairs and chauvinistically harass you about how long it takes women to get ready.”

Her jaw tightened. No doubt he thought his teasing was cute.

At her pinched expression, Justin reached out and touched her shoulder. “You feeling all right this morning?”

The cotton that separated his hand from her bare flesh seemed to enhance his touch rather than protect her from it. “Fine. Thank you.” Why didn’t knowing what kind of man he was stop the zing that zipped through her?

It was just the elevator, she assured herself as she scooted slightly out of reach. The enclosed space forced her to stand so close she could feel the warmth of his body and breathe in his unique personal scent, which she already knew too well. Steamy scenes from different movies flashed through her mind, and she wondered why she’d never noticed how sensual elevators were before.

Stop it. You’ve learned from your mistakes, remember? Fantasizing about sex with Justin against the elevator wall was not the sign of a wiser woman. If nothing else, the blinking red light of the security camera mounted in the corner brought her back to reality.

The elevator wobbled slightly as it finished its descent, and the doors parted. Olivia stepped forward purposefully. Justin followed, lifting a key ring and unlocking the company car with an audible beep.

Hours together loomed ahead, but she could handle the ride. Speak to him only when necessary and ignore him the rest of the time.

Whenever that got difficult, she’d remind herself of how he’d smiled and complimented her in the break room the other day and how, for a brief moment, she’d been foolish enough to imagine a real connection between them.

4

SINCE MICROMANAGING was not part of her leadership style, Olivia stood to the side, shoes kicked off, the sand cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. Though intermittently windy, especially here by the water, it was a beautiful day—unseasonably warm, if still a little chilly for the bathing suits they were photographing. Squinting against the sand-flecked breeze, Justin took the white diffusion dome from an assistant and measured the light with a handheld flashmeter.

Olivia’s personal feelings about him notwithstanding, he’d been doing a great job. She watched him adjust an aluminum reflector to modify the way sunlight fell across Stormy.

While none of Sweet Nothings’ models was a famous Frederique or Tyra, several of them were becoming increasingly well known, and the hotel staff was excited to be hosting such a glamorous endeavor on its private stretch of beach. Like their bigger competitors, such as the notable Victoria’s Secret, Sweet Nothings was taking what it knew about push-up bras and tummy-flattering panels and applying it to sexy swimwear.

Stormy and Felicia posed in daring suits while everyone else wore clothes more appropriate to the early-spring weather. Resplendent in a bright red string bikini, Stormy was blond with eyes that actually were the gray-violet of storm clouds, thanks to the modern miracle of colored contacts. Chestnut-haired, green-eyed Felicia wore a blue one-piece with so many cutouts and straps that she managed to reveal as much flesh as her counterpart. Both women were perfectly, if artificially, tanned.

The sirens of old lured men with their songs, but you won’t need to sing a note to catch his attention while wearing one of our signature bathing suits.

Unable to shake her copywriting roots, Olivia dreamed up ad passages while Justin took picture after picture, first with a digital camera, then a traditional one. She couldn’t help noticing that Felicia put a little extra something into her smiles. And why not? Justin had been openly admiring her since the shoot had begun.

I don’t care that he flirts with models.

But indifference shouldn’t burn and stick in her throat. When Justin stopped to reload film and the models stepped behind the portable changing screens to don the next preselected suits, Olivia stole a moment for herself, strolling away a few feet. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty musk of sea and sand, hoping to dispel her fixation with the photographer who was as adept at charming women as he was at snapping pictures.

THOUGH Justin was looking through the viewfinder of his camera, he knew the moment Olivia started across the beach. His involuntary awareness of the woman was unshakable.

In the car, she’d been almost stiffly businesslike. He’d tried not to let this newest shift bother him. Today was about business. But after they’d arrived here, and he’d seen how friendly she was with others…

Earlier, Justin had been both distracted and annoyed by Olivia laughing with Rick, a makeup artist who freely admitted he’d gone into this line of business to be around beautiful women. Olivia certainly qualified. Probably in deference to the wind, she’d pulled her hair up today, somehow containing all of it in one of those toothy plastic clips that defy the laws of physics. The feminine curve of her neck and elegant features of her face were impossible to miss. Justin could no more ignore her than he could understand why he was the only one on the receiving end of her all-work-no-play demeanor.

So many things about Olivia contradicted each other—her confident professionalism and the occasional vulnerability he thought he glimpsed in her gaze, the moments of awareness that had simmered between them, only to be replaced by aloofness, the way she kidded with those on her crew but kept her responses to Justin on a speak-when-spoken-to basis.

Maybe his perverse preoccupation with her was just a determination to solve the mystery of her behavior, but he couldn’t resist reeling her back in as she wandered toward the water. “How much more do you want out here?”

They’d discussed in the car that he should also take some shots at the hotel’s heated indoor pool where the lighting was easier to control and the water warmed.

Olivia walked back toward him while the models had their makeup retouched. “We should get as much as we can this afternoon. Rick said there’s a cold front moving in tonight, which makes tomorrow perfect for the inside stuff.”

Once again, though there was nothing openly antagonistic in her words or expression, she seemed to stare through him more than see him. A frustration Justin didn’t normally encounter with the opposite sex filled him. He was self-aware enough to know most women found him attractive. There had even been moments when he would have sworn Olivia did.

But what did he know? Because he’d also believed they’d reached a turning point in their working relationship, and today had dispelled that myth.

Now wasn’t the time to pursue the issue, though. Felicia and Stormy headed down the beach, ready for the single round of shots that would take place in the water.

“Gorgeous,” he told Felicia as she frolicked in knee-deep surf. “Men will hyperventilate when they see this.”

“They’d better.” She pursed her lush lips in a mock pout. “This water is freezing.”

He recalled how closely Olivia had been standing earlier to Rick of the bleached white teeth. Why had Justin been paying attention to that instead of focusing more on the invitation in Felicia’s smiles? The model was playful and flirtatious, the type who would enjoy herself during a fling but not take it too seriously afterward.

“Don’t worry,” he promised her. “I’ll get you warmed up as soon as this is over.”

Her meadow-green eyes widened. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“What about me?” Stormy demanded, throwing her head back and pausing as he snapped a picture. “I’m cold, too.”

“No guy with working eyesight could forget you,” he said. “And don’t worry I’ve got plenty of…coffee and blankets to go around.”

Stormy laughed. Not to be ignored, Felicia upped her vamping for the camera. Damn, but he was getting some great shots. The next two hours flew by, and Justin’s love of photography temporarily eclipsed his tension.

As soon as they were finished and he was packing up his cameras, however, Olivia rushed back to the forefront of his mind. Though she was discussing something with one of the crew, her gunmetal-gray eyes were zeroed in on Justin, the disapproval in them canceling out the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Now what?

He’d been flirting, but it hadn’t been with her, so she couldn’t object this time. If Stormy and Felicia weren’t complaining, where was the problem? The results, caught on film, would benefit everyone at Sweet Nothings.

“We got some great work done today,” Olivia told the assembled group. “Enjoy your evening, but remember we have an early start, so don’t make it a late night.”

Was he getting paranoid, or did she aim that at him?

He stalked toward her, wanting answers. “May I talk to you?”

“Um, sure. Just not now. I’m feeling kind of gritty and want to get cleaned up. We’ve got a private dinner buffet in one of the dining rooms. Talk there?”

Before he could answer—hell, before she’d even finished her question—she pivoted on her heel and headed toward the hotel. The feeling that he’d been summarily dismissed grated on the one nerve he had left regarding that woman.

“Nice shoot.” Felicia sidled up to him, wrapped in an oversize towel. “You’re good.”

He managed to subdue his anger with Olivia long enough to respond. “Thanks, but my job’s easy when I have models like you and Stormy to work with.”

She inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment of the praise. “Any plans after dinner? I was thinking about checking out that indoor pool area before tomorrow. You know, like research. I understand there’s a hot tub. And you did offer to make sure I got warm again.”

“I—” Realizing that his bad mood had almost led to passing up hot-tubbing with a lingerie model, he mentally kicked himself. Was he insane? “Sure. Hitting the hot tub sounds great.” Yet not as great as it should.

Olivia’s fault. She had him so ticked off that he couldn’t fully enjoy what any man in his right mind would recognize as paradise. Which just ticked him off even more.

She might have postponed their conversation, but he and Olivia Lockhart were going to get this settled. Very soon.

OLIVIA LEFT the dining room, the soles of her canvas shoes thudding against the lobby’s marble floor as she tried to ignore her sense of guilt. Maybe it was just her dark sweater and jeans that made her feel like a thief sneaking away in the night. She’d come down for a quick bite to eat, and having accomplished that, she was now returning to her room—without having that discussion Justin had wanted. Was it her fault if he’d been too busy talking to Stormy to notice Olivia?

Okay, so she’d slunk into the room after she’d known everyone else would already be there and had only stayed long enough to gobble down half a salad before leaving while he was still otherwise occupied, but the principle of the thing was the same. Sort of.

Stopping at the elevator bay, she pressed the up button and waited. One day down, one left, then she’d be back home, not standing on a beach forced to spend hour after hour watching her sexy photographer.

You don’t think he’s sexy, you think he’s a jerk.

A sexy jerk.

Inside the elevator, she punched the number for the appropriate floor and rolled her eyes inwardly at the orchestral intro to a made-for-elevators remix of an old Police tune. As the doors began to slide closed, a hand shot between them, followed by an arm in a long-sleeved gray shirt she unfortunately recognized. The doors sprang back, and Justin Hawthorne entered, his expression triggering an automatic uh-oh inside her.

Blond brows scrunched together in a scowl, eyes hard as emeralds, he did not look happy.

Now that the doors were open, she glanced out in the lobby, hoping for someone else who needed to go upstairs. Luck wasn’t with her, but one would think she’d be used to that.

“Wh-which floor do you need?” she asked. Darn it, she hadn’t meant to sound all breathy, as though she were nervous. Or, worse, attracted to him. She stoutly refused to be either. Number fourteen was already lit, but she wished she had an excuse to hit three and leave sooner.

“I’ll just ride up with you.” He made it sound like a challenge. “We were supposed to have a chat, remember?”

His accusatory stance and the way he crossed his arms over his chest set her teeth on edge.

“I remember that I was supposed to be headed off on vacation tomorrow.” Though she’d sworn not to broach this topic, bringing it up made her feel better, as if suddenly she could breathe more deeply. She wasn’t the type to be quietly wronged.

“Vacation? Is that why you’re being so uptight?”

He was criticizing her?

She jabbed her index finger into his chest, hating that she noticed how tightly muscled it was. “I’m sorry if you’ve confused my adult restraint with being uptight, but not all of us have to hit on every member of the opposite sex we encounter.”

“Every member?” Green flame flared in his eyes. “When was I hitting on you? Or is that the problem—jealous, Liv?”

Men and their egos! “Try relieved. I’d hate to be like Kate or that cute little blonde at the restaurant and get suckered in by your—”

“Blonde? Restaurant?”

The words avalanched out of her, her tone growing colder with each syllable. “The ritzy one downtown, where I saw you and the blonde in the black dress on your date last night. You know, the date that was so important you inconvenienced my life without so much as a second thought. Since when is wining and dining someone—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, and Olivia gasped in surprise, startled by the heat of his skin. She felt branded.

“That blonde,” he said, “was my kid sister Andrea. She’s going away to school in Europe. It was her last night in the States, which I wasn’t about to miss. And I tried to tell you about it in your office the other day, but you cut me off.”

Olivia couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if she’d been wearing a thong two sizes too small. She’d seen a hot guy with a pretty young woman and had taken a running leap toward the nearest conclusion without even considering other logical possibilities. Obviously previous experiences had left her jaded, but her past wasn’t Justin’s fault.

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