Pregnant on the Upper East Side?
by Emilie Rose
721 SECRETS

Keeping you up to date on all that goes onat Manhattan’s most elite address!

Our own Amanda Crawford wins the Dubious Award for Abstinence. She did what no other female New Yorker has ever done—resist TDH (aka tall, dark and handsome) Alex Harper. Once that gorgeous lawyer turns on the charm, women normally rush into his arms. But not Amanda. She put the heartthrob through his paces before she succumbed. It’s a match made in heaven, sources say. Alex has all the contacts Amanda’s fledgling party business needs and she’s the best there is to bring him the publicity he craves. But theirs is more than a business arrangement, according to 721’s ninth-floor residents who were kept up all night by their…work.

With Alex’s fine pedigree, no doubt Amanda’s parents will approve of her man—for the first time ever—but rumour has it she’s keeping mum on her love life. How’s that possible when she’s seeing Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor? And just how long will Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Harper stick around this time? Only time will tell…Some say we’ll know in nine months!

The Billionaire in Penthouse Bby Anna DePalo

721 SECRETS

Keeping you up to date on all that goes onat Manhattan’s most elite address!

Could it be that our resident lone wolf, Gage Lattimer, has found a mate? Sources say his new housekeeper has become a live-in…and more than a maid. Maybe that’s why the workaholic is keeping regular hours. And just who is the mysterious Jane Elliott? Nobody can turn up anything on the secretive housekeeper. But she’s apparently keeping Gage happy—with her skills. Cleaning skills, that is. But, really, Gage, she’s the hired help. Tsk-tsk. Then again, Gage has had more than his share of troubles. Let’s just say his reputation of late is less than sterling. Other rumours abound at 721. The latest is that the NYPD claim former resident Marie Endicott’s death was not a suicide. Is it possible dangerous doings claimed the life of that sweet young thing in our own building? Only one thing’s for certain: at 721 there’s always a heap of secrets and scandals!

Pregnant on the
Upper East Side?

by

Emilie Rose
The Billionaire
in Penthouse B

by

Anna DePalo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Pregnant on the
Upper East Side?

by

Emilie Rose

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA® Award finalist Emilie Rose lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She is currently working her way through her own “Bucket List”, which includes learning to ride a Harley. She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. Letters can be mailed to: Emilie Rose, PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA, or e-mail: EmilieRoseC@aol.com.

Dear Reader,

I adore Manhattan. But then who doesn’t? When I was offered the opportunity to work with some of my favourite Desire™ authors on a series set on Park Avenue, refusing never crossed my mind. The only thing more fun would be taking another trip to New York City—and that is definitely on my agenda.

For a laid-back southern girl there is nothing like the energy of the city that never sleeps. I love visiting places I’ve seen on TV or in the movies, like Times Square, Central Park and Ground Zero to name but a few. I’m sure my practice of smiling at everyone I pass marks me as a tourist, but so what? When I go to Manhattan I’m there to have fun, see the sights and yes, the people, and that brings a smile to my face that I can’t smother.

My only regrets: I haven’t managed to catch a Broadway play or get to a baseball game on my trips north. So look out New Yorkers. I’ll be back and I intend to hit both a Yankees and a Mets game—both just short train rides away—and catch a show or two. Keep your fingers crossed that I don’t sing a show tune on the way out of the theatre. Trust me, that would be bad.

Emilie

Starting over is never easy, but I’ve been fortunate to

have friends to help me through the transition.

You know who you are, and you have my infinite

gratitude for making the process as painless

as possible.

One

“Are you stalking me, Alex Harper? You’re an attorney. You should know better.” Amanda Crawford frowned at the too-handsome-for-his-own-good man standing beside the rows of mailboxes in her apartment building.

Alex feigned innocence. Badly. His coffee-brown eyes glinted with mischief, shooting off tiny gold flares in his irises, which in turn set off corresponding sparks below her navel. She clamped down on the unwelcome response.

He withdrew his hand from his black overcoat pocket and dangled a brass mailbox key in front of her. “I’m here to pick up Julia’s mail. It’s not all being forwarded to Max’s place, and since I was going to be in the neighborhood I offered to stop by.”

As excuses went, Amanda could almost accept that one. Julia, her former roommate, had married Alex’s best friend just over three months ago. But Amanda had been seeing far too much of Alex to believe mail call was his only motive for turning up at 721 Park Avenue on a Saturday night at the exact moment she returned to her apartment building. No matter where she went lately he managed to make an appearance.

“The post office makes change-of-address kits for exactly that purpose. I’ll send a few to Julia. Better yet, I’ll fill them out myself.”

Melting snowflakes glistened in Alex’s dark hair, and he stood close enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne. She’d always been a sucker for Calvin Klein MAN, especially when applied to a tall, wellbuilt body.

Stop it. You’re all business all the time now, remember?

No men to divert your focus. Especially not this man.

At five foot ten in her bare feet plus her three-inchheeled Stuart Weitzman ankle boots, she shouldn’t have had to look up at anyone not affiliated with professional basketball. But with Alex she did.

“I’ll take care of Julia’s mail since I still live here,” she insisted. “Besides, I have more upstairs.”

“I’ll come up and get it and deliver it when I meet them for dinner later.”

Walked right into that one, didn’t you, Amanda?

Disgusted by her slip, she turned and stalked across the marble-floored lobby toward the elevator. Henry the doorman sat in the center of the lobby behind his big mahogany desk, with the phone receiver pressed to his ear. She waved as she passed and his beady eyes followed her.

Alex kept pace beside her. “Why don’t you join us tonight?”

“No thanks. I’m busy.” Not exactly true. All she had planned was an evening of combing her accounts and trying to find the money to cover her most pressing bills, but she didn’t want to encourage Alex by accepting. Not that a womanizer like him apparently needed encouragement. She’d given him none and yet here he was. Again.

“When are you going to stop playing hard to get and go out with me, Amanda?”

“Never. And I’m not playing. I am hard to get. Impossible, in fact. So have a little pride and stop asking.” She stabbed the call button and caught Alex’s inspection in the ornate gold-rimmed mirror hanging on the Tiffany-box blue wall.

“I never give up when I truly want something. Or someone.”

She attributed the shiver working its way up her spine to the record-breaking cold November weather outside the glass lobby doors. Alex’s deep voice and the interest in his eyes had nothing to do with it.

“Especially when she’s equally as interested.”

She caught her breath at his audacity. And his insight. “For someone who is supposedly brilliant, you missed the mark on that one.”

Amusement mingled with disbelief in his eyes. “Did I?”

Why bother to lie? He wouldn’t believe her anyway. She ducked her chin into the fox collar of her cashmere coat and repositioned herself so she couldn’t see him or his reflection.

She had to admit she found Alex’s pursuit incredibly flattering, but she was smart enough to recognize a relationship train wreck when she saw one. In the dictionary of dating, Alex’s name defined the words temporary and heartbreaker. Getting involved with him would be a disaster on a major scale. Not something she needed to add to her already infamous and blotchy relationship résumé.

“Why is it the party girl—”

“Party planner,” she corrected instantly. Oops, that had sounded a little snippy and defensive. But he’d hit a hot button. Her disapproving parents had railed long and hard about her unacceptable career. If she heard Get a real job or marry money one more time she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

“—parties with everyone but me?” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted.

She squeezed into the elevator even before the doors finished opening. He followed her into the car, crowding her toward the back wall. She put as much room between them as possible, which meant he literally had her backed into a corner. Not her idea of fun.

“Other people pay me for my services.”

“That’s what it takes? I have to hire you?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Trying to ignore him, she flipped through her mail and grimaced. Bills, bills and more bills. No surprise there. Her business, Affairs by Amanda, continued to grow, but unfortunately not fast enough to cover the balloon payment coming due on her bank loan.

If she didn’t land a lucrative and highly visible event contract soon she’d have to consider closing her doors or—a fate worse than death—beg her parents for a loan to tide her over. Either way, her father would need a larynx transplant because he’d wear out his voice box lecturing her about disgracing the venerable Crawford name. Not that she hadn’t heard that speech a thousand times already.

The elevator opened. She exited with Alex’s shoulder bumping hers. The contact acted like a blaring alarm clock on every cell of her being. She absolutely detested his ability to affect her this way.

Honestly, the man had nothing going for him…aside from being rich, smart and gorgeous. It had even been rumored he had a sense of humor. But she could and would continue to resist his advances.

She dug her keys out of her Carlos Falchi python tote bag and shoved them into 9B’s lock. It turned smoothly. The building might be prewar, but the security was modern era. If not for her friend Julia’s connections, Amanda could never have found herself at such a prestigious uptown address. The real question was how long could she afford to stay without a significant boost in income.

“Wait h—”

“I’d love to come in. Thanks.” Alex’s chest bumped her shoulder when he reached past her to push open the door. The usual unwanted frisson of awareness hit her.

Why him? Why did Alex Harper have to be the one to ring her chimes?

She stared at him for five seconds, debated the wisdom of letting him in and then decided it wasn’t worth arguing. He’d be gone in minutes. She left him behind and crossed the living room to the brushed stainless basket where she’d piled Julia’s magazines and mail. When she turned with the bundle in hand, Alex was right on her heels. Her breath caught at his nearness. She shoved the mail forward, jabbing him in his flat belly, in an attempt to make him back off.

“Here you go. Thanks for picking it up. I’ll show you out.”

He stayed planted, his big body blocking her path to the door. His gaze held hers as he accepted the stack of letters and magazines. His fingers grazed hers. That fleeting contact hit her like a speeding subway train, quickening her pulse, shortening her breath and knocking her silly with lust.

And then he blinked his ridiculously thick lashes, releasing her from his spell. He scanned the pale pink and white high-tech decor of her living room. She could swear he zeroed in on each new addition. The votives, the trio of bubble-glass vases she’d picked up at an estate sale for next to nothing, the lime-green-beaded sari she’d draped over the back of the white sofa and the new raspberry tasseled lampshade.

“You’ve made some changes since Julia moved out.”

“A few.” He’d been in the apartment dozens of times, but not recently and never without Max or Julia as a buffer. Funny how he seemed to take up more space and air when it was just the two of them. “You don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“I have time.”

She gritted her teeth in frustration.

“I want more than Julia’s mail from you, Amanda.”

As if she didn’t know that already. Nevertheless the words sent a quick thrill through her. She’d considered more with Alex a time or two during her weaker moments. More would probably be pretty darn good with him considering all the practice he’d allegedly had. But the man and the timing were all wrong. She had to work on organizing her life before she could allow someone else into it.

She folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. “Really? Now there’s a surprise. But there’s this little word. No. N. O. I’m sure you’re familiar with it since I’ve shared it with you so often.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he fought a smile. She would bet a month’s rent—which she didn’t have to spare—he enjoyed their little verbal duels. Why else would he provoke her every time they met?

“You’ll change your mind when you hear my proposition.”

A proposition. Again, no surprise. Nonetheless, her mouth dried because she really was going to have to say no. Again. And each time it was a little harder to squeeze out that single syllable. “I doubt it.”

He took off his coat and draped it over his forearm, revealing a charcoal Brooks Brothers suit, blinding white silk shirt and ruby power tie. “I need Affairs by Amanda.”

He’d employed the one line that guaranteed she’d hear him out rather than kick him out. “For what?”

“Harper & Associates just landed a substantial public settlement. I’d like to reward the staff for their hard work.”

He definitely knew how to tickle a girl’s interest. A party for his firm could be good for business. His and hers. “What kind of event?”

“A couple hundred guests including friends, clients and a few celebrities to make it interesting. Choice of venue is yours, but I’d prefer something upscale like the Metropolitan Club.”

Size and visibility. Class and clout. A-list guests who might be persuaded to use her services for their future affairs. Not exactly money in the bank, which she desperately needed, but the exposure could be just the boost her business required.

As a millionaire finance attorney, Alex had the kind of connections she could use. Not that she didn’t have her own connections. But his were better.

She knew there would be strings. A wheeler-dealer like Alex would always have strings. She curved her fingers in a “give me more” gesture. “Details.”

He named a budget that made her salivate. “The catch is I’d like to do this within the month. The sooner, the better.”

“That could be problematic.” But a boon for her finances.

“If you’re not up to it I can go elsewhere.”

A power play. And he knew exactly what he was doing. She didn’t miss the challenge in his eyes or in the angle of his chin. “What makes you think I’m available on such short notice?”

“Julia mentioned you’d had an unexpected cancellation.”

A huge engagement party had gone kaput. The bride-to-be had run off with the groom’s youngest brother. Not pretty. And while Amanda would get to keep the deposit to cover most of her losses, there would be little left after she paid the vendors and her employees.

She ought to turn Alex down. He was demanding and impatient and a workaholic like her father. He’d be hell to work with unless he stayed out of her way. And she doubted he would.

But she couldn’t afford to say no.

“If I do this, your party is all I’m doing. Is that clear?”

One dark eyebrow hiked and his delectable mouth tilted mischievously. “Amanda—”

“Don’t ‘Amanda’ me. I have no intention of being your latest accessory.”

His slow, confident smile hit her below the three-inchwide patent leather belt she’d cinched over her lavender cashmere tunic sweater. “But we’d be so good together.”

That’s what she was afraid of. He’d be amazing. Right up until the moment he dumped her. And she’d be left with yet another failed relationship. Wouldn’t her parents love to rub that in her face?

“But as you pointed out, I’m an attorney. I know better than to force my attentions when they’re not welcome. Meet me tomorrow to discuss the party details. Park Café. Four o’clock.”

She sputtered at his pushiness. “That’s less than twenty-four hours.”

“Long enough for you to know if you can pull this off.” He turned on his heel. His long strides carried him out of the apartment. The door shut quietly behind him.

She had her work cut out for her, but she’d be darned if she’d back down from the challenge he’d issued.

She couldn’t afford to.

Amanda shifted her laptop case to her left hand, braced herself for another onslaught of Alex’s charisma and pushed open the door of Park Café.

The upscale coffee shop was her favorite, and not just because of its close proximity to the building where she lived. If she ever had to have a last supper, she wanted it to be one of the café’s double chocolate chip walnut muffins—preferably fresh from the oven while the chocolate chips were still gooey.

She waved to Trish, the barista. The warmth enfolding Amanda had everything to do with leaving the blustery outside behind and nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with spotting Alex unfolding his tall frame from a chair at a corner table.

He’d dressed casually for a Sunday afternoon in charcoal wool trousers and a dove-gray cable V-neck sweater that made his shoulders look a mile wide. She caught a glimpse of the black T-shirt he wore between the cashmere and his skin.

Don’t think about what’s next to his skin.

Keep the meeting on a business footing.

And if he flirts, ignore him.

Easier said than done when even his smile invited her to break rules and promised she’d love doing it. Why did the man tempt her to throw caution and common sense out the window?

He pulled out a chair for her and nodded toward her briefcase. “You came prepared.”

“I’m good at what I do. That’s why you’re hiring me. I brought a list of venues and dates that we can get within the next four weeks. Needless to say, it’s a short list since the most desirable locations book up months or years in advance. I can pull up pictures of the spaces online since the café has wireless Internet access.”

Trying to make connections with vendors on a Sunday had been absolute hell. But she’d done it by calling in every favor she was owed. This job was that important.

“I’ve ordered your usual. Trish said to tell you she’d start your latte when you walked in the door and a fresh batch of muffins would be out of the oven in five minutes.”

Her usual? She’d met Alex here with Julia and Max a few times, but she hadn’t realized he’d noticed she always ordered the same thing. Most likely Trish had told him. “Thank you.”

She set her case on the table and extracted her computer. While the laptop booted up, Alex stepped behind her to help her remove her coat. Each touch, no matter how fleeting, hit her with a charge of electricity. Static electricity, no doubt.

Who do you think you’re fooling?

He draped her coat over his on the spare chair. She sat quickly to get away from his heat and shoved a sheet of paper across the table the moment his behind hit the chair.

“Here are the sites, dates available, room capacities and prices. We’ll have to act fast to snap up whichever one you choose because we’re capitalizing on cancellations. Once we select the location we’ll start on the menus.

“The Metropolitan Club is available for one day only, but I think the Trianon Suite at the Carlyle Hotel would be a better option. That time and date don’t conflict with any of the other high-profile events going on in Manhattan.”

“The Trianon it is.”

That had been too easy. “Do you have your guest list?”

He extracted it from his coat pocket. Amanda took it and scanned the names. Adrenaline rushed through her. If she could convince just two or three of these people to hire her, Affairs by Amanda would be in the black for a long time to come. Alex definitely moved with the in crowd.

A shadow fell across the page. She glanced up and stifled a groan. Curtis, her lying, thieving ex, stood by the table. It took every ounce of civility she had to hide her less-than-happy-to-see-him reaction.

“Hi, ‘Manda.”

“Hello, Curtis. I can’t talk right now. Could you please excuse us?”

The jerk didn’t move. “I stopped by your apartment.”

“Curtis, I’m working.”

“Your balloon payment is coming due this week. Do you have enough money to cover it?”

Her cheeks burned. She did not need Alex to know she had financial issues. He might change his mind about hiring her.

“I don’t have time for this discussion now. Later, okay?”

Curtis shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as if he had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. “I could loan you some cash if you’re strapped.”

The money Curtis wanted to loan was probably her own. She had to get rid of him. “Why don’t I let you talk to my attorney about that cash?”

She knew she was bluffing, but she saw her threat register in his eyes. And then she saw him dismiss it. His lips curled in a smirk. “Now, ’Manda, there’s no need to get nasty. We both know you’re not interested in making a fuss that would draw your parents’ attention to your…difficulties.”

Damn. Double damn. She glanced at Alex, and his dark, speculative gaze held hers for perhaps ten seconds. Then he shoved back his chair and rose.

She’d lost him, his business and her much-needed fee. Her stomach sank. Amanda racked her brain for a way to salvage the situation and came up empty. She grimaced an apology.

But instead of storming out of the coffee shop, Alex offered Curtis his hand in a friendly gesture. Surprised, Amanda searched his face. The hard glint in his eyes and his looming posture were far from amicable. In fact, she’d never seen Alex look so ferocious.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Alexander Harper, Amanda’s finance attorney.”

Curtis’s eyes widened. His mouth opened. The color leached from his face and he winced. Amanda realized Alex must have crushed his hand. As soon as Alex released him Curtis shuffled back a step. He glanced warily from Alex to Amanda and back, then squared his shoulders.

“Curtis Wilks, Amanda’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected. “When you cancelled the lease on our apartment without telling me and then moved out while I was out of town, you ceased to be my anything.”

He’d left her high and dry, and with a stack of bills. Since they had been splitting expenses equally, her name had been on all the utilities though not the lease. She’d been doubly screwed. She’d had to move and cover their debts. If Julia hadn’t needed a roommate, Amanda wasn’t sure where she would have ended up.

Curtis seemed to gather himself. “Yes, well, about that loan—”

“If Amanda needs anything she’ll get it through me. Understand?” Alex’s cold tone gave new meaning to the word frostbite.

Amanda blinked up at him. She wasn’t used to anyone coming to her defense, and she kind of liked it. Even if he had lied about being her attorney.

Curtis took another step back. “Uh yeah, sure. See y’round, ’Manda.”

Not if she saw him first, to quote the cliché. She watched him leave the shop.

“Pack up. I’ll change our order to go,” Alex said.

“Why?”

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on. And I don’t think you want to discuss your financial status in a crowded coffee shop. We’ll go to your place.”

Having him back in her apartment wasn’t a good idea. “I’d really rather not discuss my private affairs at all.”

“If you don’t level with me, Amanda, then our business is finished.”

She sighed. What choice did she have? “My place it is.”

Two

“Let’s have it,” Alex said the moment Amanda finished hanging up their coats. She hadn’t looked him in the eye once since leaving the coffee shop.

She carried the bag of muffins to the kitchenette and fished around the cabinets for plates. After placing a muffin on each dish, she retrieved utensils and carried the lot to the small glass-and-steel high-top bar table. Her movements were deliberate and graceful, but he didn’t need his body-language-reading skills to recognize she was stalling.

“Amanda?”

Her wary grey eyes finally met his. “How much has Julia already told you?”

Not nearly enough. No matter how hard he’d tried to pry information out of his friend’s new bride, Julia had stayed closemouthed about anything that mattered about her former Vassar roommate. The only details she’d shared had been useless stuff he’d already figured out.

“Only that your split with Wilks has left you disinterested in a new relationship.”

And Julia had only volunteered that because Amanda continued to shoot Alex down at every turn despite the obvious chemistry between them. He knew women too well to misread the awareness he saw in Amanda’s eyes.

She ruffled her short blond hair with her fingers. The strands fell more or less back into place, but she didn’t run to a mirror to check it. Amanda’s lack of primping was just one of the things he liked about her. Her long, lean body didn’t hurt, and the fact that she was confident enough to wear sexy-as-hell heels despite her height was a total turn-on.

“You heard Curtis. I have a banknote coming due and I’m running a little short. But that won’t affect my ability to plan this event for you.”

A wise man would back away from a company in financial trouble. But he wasn’t feeling wise at the moment.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you need a loan?”

Her eyes widened and then her long lashes fluttered down. She focused on peeling the paper off the muffin. “I’ll talk to the bank about an extension. Now, about your party—”

He wasn’t going to let her change the subject that easily. “Spill it, Amanda. All of it. And then I’ll decide whether or not we’ll do business.”

Her chin tilted in a defensive angle. “I am very careful about budgeting and planning ahead. We’ll have a contract. You don’t have to worry that I’ll take your deposit and pay my creditors and stiff the people we engage for your event.”

“I wasn’t. But if you’re so good with budgets how did the shortfall happen? Is business slow? I’ve heard nothing but accolades about your work.”

She shoved her dish aside with a wistful glance at the muffin she’d crumbled into a messy pile. Instead of looking at him, she concentrated on wiping her chocolatedotted fingers on a paper napkin. Stalling again.

“It’s my fault, really. I made the mistake of allowing Curtis to help me set up the books and accounts for Affairs by Amanda.

“It worked well for a while. But then my operating capital started disappearing. At first I didn’t notice because the amounts were small and I was too busy building my client list to pay attention, but then bigger chunks went missing. I questioned Curtis and he claimed I’d underestimated the costs of several major items. But I never underestimate. I always overestimate by five percent, just in case. When I asked for the receipts in question he told me he’d have to find them. Then he moved out while I was away for the weekend and left me holding all the bills.”

Her case sounded typical of many others he’d handled. The embezzler started with small amounts to test the waters and then grew bolder and took more. “There are legal avenues for handling this situation.”

“I know. But there are three reasons I’ve chosen not to go that route. Curtis knows them. One, I don’t have the money to pay lawyer fees right now, and two, as Curtis said, I’d rather my parents not hear about this. Three, I may be convinced Curtis is responsible for the missing money, but proving it is another story. The questionable invoices mysteriously vanished when he did. And I had given him access to my accounts, so that makes me at least partially responsible.”

His first instinct was to take her case pro bono. But he also intended to sleep with Amanda, and that was a conflict of interest he’d learned the hard way not to repeat. So as much as he’d personally love to nail the Wilks weasel, he had to hand this off.

He extracted his checkbook, a business card and a pen from his inside coat pocket. “I’m writing the name of one of the associates from my firm on the back of my card. Call him.”

“Alex, I can’t afford—”

“He’ll defer payment until settlement.” Alex would make sure of it—even if he had to guarantee the fees himself. “And I’ll loan you the money to make your payment.”

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t want to damage your credit by asking for an extension.”

“Well…no.”

“Do you want to let Wilks get away with this?”

“Of course not. But, Alex, you don’t have to do this.”

“What are your other options?”

She grimaced. “I could ask my father for a loan.”

“You said you didn’t want your parents to find out. Will your father hand over a chunk of cash without asking why you need it?” He barely waited for her to shake her head before going for the closer. “I want you handling my party, Amanda. If you’re worrying about your finances, you’ll be distracted and you’ll give me less than one hundred percent.”

And she’d be less likely to fall in with his plans.

He wanted Amanda Crawford for more than just sex, although that played a large part. Her networking expertise was unparalleled. The woman knew how to work a room better than anyone he’d ever met. She was exactly who he needed by his side to build the powerful connections that brought in clients and put money in the bank. She’d be an asset to his career for as long as their affair lasted, and it wasn’t an ego trip to know he would be equally beneficial to hers. The fact that she wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship only enhanced the attraction.

He opened his checkbook. “How much do you need?”

She hesitated. “Are there strings attached to the loan? I mean, do you expect me to sleep with you?”

Full disclosure wouldn’t be in his best interest at this point. “When we share a bed it will be because you’re tired of fighting the chemistry between us, not because of misplaced gratitude.”

Her pupils expanded and her lips parted. “You sound convinced that will happen.”

“It will.”

“But you want something from me.”

Smart lady. “I could use your connections. You introduce me to potential clients and I’ll do the same for you.”

She inhaled deeply as if preparing to argue, but then shook her head and blew out a long, slow breath. “I can do that. But, Alex, I never took you for the knight-in-shining-armor type.”

Taken aback, he straightened. “I’m not.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile and her eyes sparkled as if she had a secret. “I don’t believe you.”

A corner of his brain urged him to accept her change in attitude and use it to get ahead in the game. “Believe whatever you want. Give me an amount.”

After a moment she did. He wrote the check and tore it out of the book. It was his job to get everything in writing, but discussing a repayment schedule would kill the deal faster than bleach killed germs. From everything he’d learned about her she would reimburse him. But if she didn’t, he wouldn’t miss a few thousand. And it wouldn’t be the first time a woman cost him.

“Pay me back when you can.”

Looking a little suspicious and a lot stunned, she took the check and business card. “That’s it? You’re just handing me money?”

“That’s it.”

“Thank you.”

And then she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck. Her body bumped his. He hugged her back, learning the feel of her lean length pressed against him, her breasts on his chest, her warm, smooth cheek against his and her soft hair tickling his ear. His libido howled like a wolf, but there would be time for that later. He released her the moment she eased back on her heels.

“Thank you again, Alex. I don’t know what to say.”

Her scent lingered in his nostrils. “Say yes to dinner.”

She gasped, and her cheeks pinked.

“We never did get around to discussing the party,” he reminded her.

She nibbled her bottom lip and then nodded. “Yes. To dinner.”

Her measured tone said, “And only dinner.” He fully intended to change her mind. But not tonight.

Success would take patience. And strategy. Luckily, he excelled at both.

Amanda couldn’t believe she was nervous. But her damp palms were a dead giveaway. She pressed them to her flannel trousers.

Did Alex consider this a date? He’d certainly steered the dinner conversation away from planning his event, and he’d done so with such skill she hadn’t even realized it until the taxi ride back. Each time she’d tried to stay on task he’d eased the conversation from the topic to people or places they both knew—people who would be at his party. Tricky.

Would he try to kiss her good-night?

Would she stop him this time?

He’d shown her a side of himself today that was different from what she’d seen before. She’d always considered him more ruthless shark than noble rescuer. Now she wasn’t so sure she’d read him correctly.

Oh, please. Are you twenty-eight or eighteen?

As usual, Alex invaded her personal space the moment he entered her apartment. He stood with his hands in his coat pockets but close enough that she could see each blade of dark beard stubble and the fine lines in his lips. She yanked her gaze away from his mouth and tamped down the anticipation vibrating along her nerve endings. Her hands trembled as she unwound her scarf and hung it up along with her coat.

“Dinner was nice. Thank you.”

The hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant was new to her but apparently not to Alex, who had been welcomed by name and immediately shown to a table despite the line of customers waiting to be seated. He couldn’t have made a reservation because he couldn’t have known she’d accept his invitation. She hadn’t even known until the words had tumbled from her lips. And he couldn’t have called ahead because he hadn’t been out of her sight between her acceptance and their arrival at the family-run place.

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to share a meal with a woman who eats.”

She flushed. She’d definitely done an embarrassing amount of that by packing away a salad, veal parmesan, crusty bread, her chocolate gelato and then some of Alex’s pistachio.

“May I take your coat?”

“I’m not staying. Make the calls tomorrow morning and meet me for lunch to tell me what you’ve set up.”

She scrambled to claw through her surprise or dismay or whatever it was and recall her calendar. Her Monday was lamentably open. She had a couple of small events in the works, but nothing more urgent than Alex’s. “I could confirm by phone.”

“No.” Flat. Nonnegotiable. Bossy.

Her hackles rose, but she ignored them. “Where, then? My office?”

“Mine.” He pulled out his BlackBerry and punched a few buttons, then slid it back into his pocket. “I should be finished by twelve-thirty.”

His hand curved over her shoulder, strong and sure. The heat from his palm permeated her sweater. A shower of tingles rained down from the point of contact. He leaned closer. She caught her breath and swallowed the sudden rush of moisture to her mouth.

“You did a good job, Amanda. Your ideas thus far are top-notch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” His fingers tightened briefly and then he released her. She stood as still as a statue as he let himself out of the apartment.

No kiss? She stared at the closed door. She wasn’t disappointed he hadn’t attempted to kiss her good-night.

She wasn’t.

This was business. Only business. And that was a good thing. Exactly what she wanted. She didn’t have room for complicated relationships in her life at the moment, especially not with a finance attorney who probably thought she was a complete idiot for getting herself into her current predicament. She’d bet the trust fund she wouldn’t come into until she turned thirty that Alexander Harper never made stupid mistakes with his money.

Tension poured from her muscles like sand through a broken hourglass. She headed for her bedroom, shed her clothes and took a long, hot shower. She conditioned her hair and shaved everything that needed shaving. She’d had to give up waxing to save the salon costs and because she was too much of a wimp to wax herself at home. She had a half-used waxing kit in the vanity cabinet as proof of her cowardice.

But the antsy feeling wouldn’t leave her alone. Wrapped in a lavender towel, she padded into the bedroom, snatched up the phone and dialed Julia’s new number. Her friend answered before the second ring.

“Moving pretty fast for a pregnant lady, aren’t you?”

Julia laughed. “You’re just lucky I had the receiver parked on my mountainous belly. You sound out of sorts. What’s the matter?”

She and Julia had known each other too long to miss the nuances in each other’s voices. Julia heard Amanda’s distress as clearly as Amanda heard her friend’s happiness. “Go ahead and have me committed.”

“Why? Are you dating Curtis again?”

“If I were that stupid I’d commit myself.” She took a deep breath and confessed in a rush, “I agreed to plan an event for Alex Harper.”

“And that’s bad because…?”

“You know why.”

“He’s in hot pursuit. Yes, it’s so tragic when a handsome, intelligent, wealthy guy wants you.”

“Hey!”

“Amanda, you two can’t keep your eyes off each other when you’re in the same room. Max thinks Alex is a great guy. And I know you need someone to boost your confidence after that jerk Curtis. I say go for it—the party and anything else Alex is offering.”

So much for her friend talking her off the celibacysucks ledge. “You know my goal. Get my life back on track and make a success of my business before I hit thirty.”

“And come into all that money.”

“I have to prove I can make a success of my business before then. Otherwise, my parents will just think Granddad’s money bailed me out.”

“Amanda, that’s two years away. One brief affair is not going to set back your schedule.”

“Says the woman who ended up pregnant after a very brief one-night stand.”

“Ooh. You only fight dirty when you’re running scared. Just remember Alex isn’t the forever type.”

“No kidding.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“In fact, he’s quite a hound dog. Take precautions. You can’t be celibate forever.”

With her track record it would probably be her best option. “Why not?”

“Besides the obvious—that sex is fantastic with the right partner?”

Well, yes, there was that. “He’s not the right person.”

“You don’t know that. Give the man points for persistence and reward his efforts already. Watching you dance around each other is exhausting me, and my poor, pregnant body is already on a hormonal roller coaster without watching all that longing in your eyes. Do him already.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Yes, I am. You’re just not willing to admit I’m giving sage advice.”

Admit to her newlywed and now aggressively matchmaking friend that she was attracted to Alex Harper?

Amanda would rather walk naked through Times Square.

At twelve-twenty-six the next day Amanda pushed open the heavy gold-stenciled glass door of Harper & Associates.

Alex’s firm epitomized the affluent type of client Amanda longed for. Perhaps, she thought, she should consider targeting more corporate clients instead of focusing primarily on private affairs.

Her D&G pumps sank into the thick carpeting as she crossed to the cherry reception desk that had been polished to a mirror shine. A twenty-something blonde greeted her with a face and a toothy smile worthy of a beauty queen. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

Amanda smiled back. “Amanda Crawford for Alex Harper.”

“One moment please.” She swiveled away and spoke quietly into a headset before turning back. “His assistant will be right with you. Would you care for a beverage?”

A stiff shot of something to calm her nerves would be good. “No, thank you.”

“There she is now,” the receptionist said, drawing Amanda’s attention to a compact, midforties brunette charging down a wide corridor in her direction.

“Ms. Crawford? I’m Moira Newton. I’ll take you to Mr. Harper’s private waiting area.”

Amanda followed her into a room that reeked money, from the wainscoting to the clean-cut lines of the leather and cherry furniture to the original artwork on the walls. If a room could instill a client’s confidence in its owner, then this one would.

“Alex will be with you momentarily. May I get you anything while you wait?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll take your coat.”

Amanda shrugged off the garment, handed it over and sank into a deep wing chair tucked in the corner.

Moira hung her coat in a small closet hidden by the paneling, then sat behind a desk that fronted the remainder of her work space, which was discreetly concealed in a large alcove.

Moments later the muted timbre of Alex’s voice scattered the butterflies that had been resting in Amanda’s stomach. A door on the far wall opened and a harassed-looking, balding man stepped through, followed by Alex. As yet unnoticed, she drank Alex in as the men said their good-byes.

From the aggressive angle of his jaw to the straight set of his shoulders, Alex radiated self-assurance. His black tailored suit accentuated his height and athletic build, and his white shirt brought out his olive complexion. His dark hair swooped back from the side part, the ends covering his collar at his nape. Traditional, conservative clothing and furnishings, but the deliberately in-need-of-a-trim hairstyle hinted at a rebellious side. And her rebellious side snapped to attention.

Business only.

The client left. Alex turned and nailed her to the chair with his direct gaze. “Hello, Amanda.”

How did he unsettle her with nothing more than a slow perusal and a hello? She had to work on shutting down that reaction.

“Alex.” She dipped her head in greeting and rose, lifting her laptop case. “I have confirmations and contracts, and I need signatures.”

“Come in.” He extended his arm, gesturing for her to precede him.

His spacious office contained the same high-end furniture but had a slightly more relaxed atmosphere. A subtle hint of his cologne hung in the air. In addition to the desk and bookcases, he had a boardroom table set up in front of a bank of windows. He led her to that table. “Have a seat.”

His knuckles brushed her shoulder blades as he seated her in the chair closest to the glass. She hid her shiver by reaching into her briefcase, extracting his file, then admiring the view of the Manhattan skyline.

“We have the Carlyle Trianon Suite for Saturday, the twenty-second. We need to choose a theme and send out invitations immediately. If you have e-mail addresses for the people on your guest list I can also send out a blanket ‘save the date’ notice tomorrow.”

He leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his ankles. His unwavering gaze pinned her to her chair. “Moira can give you the addresses. You look beautiful today.”

Her brain tripped. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say next. How did he fluster her so easily? “Thank you.”

She dropped her gaze to the papers in her hand and struggled to regain her footing. “I have—” A knock at the door interrupted her.

“That should be our lunch. Eating in will allow us more time. I hope you like Greek food.”

Lunch in an office shouldn’t seem intimate. But it did. “A working lunch is a good idea. We have a lot to cover. And I love Greek food.”

He opened the door to reveal Moira with a brown paper bag in one hand and tableware in the other.

“Need help setting up?” his assistant asked.

“We can handle it.” He took everything from her, then placed the bag on the table and opened it. A delicious aroma saturated the room.

Amanda’s mouth watered as he removed the lids from containers of feta, tomato and spinach salad, followed by farmer’s bread and artichoke moussaka. He crossed to a small wine refrigerator tucked beneath a counter in the corner and returned with a bottle of Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel, which he opened and poured into two glasses.

She’d learned to keep a clear head when around Alex. “I don’t usually drink when I’m working.”

“The wine goes well with moussaka, but I’ll get you a bottle of water if you prefer.” He retrieved two bottles from a different refrigerator and set them on the table.

After scooping generous portions onto plates, he surprised her by shoving the containers to the opposite side of the table and sitting beside her instead of across from her. Their shoulders brushed as he adjusted his chair.

Too close. How could she concentrate with him touching her?

He lifted his glass and twisted in his seat. “To an enjoyable and profitable relationship.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She lifted her glass and clinked her rim against his.

She took a sip. The zesty fruit-and-berry flavor of the cool liquid slid smoothly down her throat. She would have to be careful because she liked this wine too much, and that could get her in trouble.

Alex looked at her over the rim of his glass. “I’ll need you to act as my hostess.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She snapped her gaze from the food in front of her to Alex’s. “You can’t find someone else at this late date?”

“I want you, Amanda.”

Three

I want you.

Alex’s firmly stated phrase, delivered in close proximity and with direct eye contact, made Amanda’s insides quiver.

He means for the party.

No, he means more than that. But you’re ignoring the “more” part. Remember?

“I—I can hostess.” Usually she facilitated events from behind the scenes, but it would be much easier to make those much-needed connections by Alex’s side.

“I will, of course, cover the cost of appropriate attire.”

God, he smelled good. “Alex, you don’t need to do that.”

“This evening will be as important for me as it will be for you. Buy yourself something.”

Definitely bossy and not what she needed. “If I don’t have anything suitable I’ll consider it.”

The hard look he shot her should have sent her scurrying to comply. Instantly. But she ignored it thanks to practice. She’d learned to deal with a similar look from her father. She reached for her fork. “This looks yummy.”

“Aglaia’s is one of my favorite places. Eat. Then we’ll talk.”

The salad was delicious, perfect in flavor and texture, as were the other dishes. They consumed the meal in silence. Unfortunately, the lack of conversation made it far too easy to get hung up on each shift of his body and each bump of his elbow, and it drove her to her wineglass more often than her water bottle.

Had she ever noticed he had great hands? Long fingers, blunt nails, sparse dark hairs on the backs. She couldn’t remember experiencing this all-consuming awareness with anyone else.

Get a grip.

Finally, Alex forked the last bite of moussaka between his lips, chewed and swallowed. “Last night you said we had to choose a theme for the party. What did you have in mind?”

So he had listened before changing the subject.

He angled in his chair, his right thigh nudging her left. His heat penetrated the thin layers of their clothing and her thoughts snarled. She struggled to untangle them. Under the guise of shifting her empty plate out of the way she put an inch or two between them.

“That depends on whether you want a formal, traditional sit-down meal or something more relaxed and fun.”

“Which do you recommend?”

“Your office is formal and conservative. If you want this to be a reward then I’d go for a ‘festive drinks and hors d’oeuvres’ event. You said your employees worked hard. Let them mingle and loosen up a little.”

He reached for his wine, pursed his lips and sipped. She found her gaze locked on his mouth again and pried it away.

You really must stop doing that.

She fumbled for her water bottle, hoping the chilled liquid would satisfy her sudden oral fixation. The last thing she needed was more wine. Her head was already spinning, and she wasn’t sure alcohol was the cause.

“Would you consider a masked ball? You could still have a formal affair, but donning masks allows everyone to let down their guard a little.”

His left eyebrow hiked.

“Not full costume,” she rushed on before he could object. “More of a Mardi Gras in November. We could even have New Orleans cuisine and music, if you like.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Can you get a jazz band?”

“I’ve used a couple of good ones before. This afternoon I’ll call and see if either is available. Since we’ve decided on a theme, I have invitation and decoration suggestions.”

She reached for her laptop, booted up and then picked up the paper file. Inside she’d tucked samples for several different party themes in different pocketed folders. As soon as he made choices she could enter the info online and e-mail it to her supplier.

Alex rose and carried the plates to the wet bar in the corner. When he returned he sat down closer than before, his long legs bracketing her chair and his arm resting along the back of her seat. His position hemmed her against the table. If she leaned back she’d be in his arms—one of the places she’d been avoiding for the past threeplus months and intended to continue avoiding.

She fought to block out his nearness and focused on pulling up the images on-screen. “Here are sample schemes.”

She clicked her mouse, scrolling through each page. He leaned closer. His breath teased her cheek and stirred the hair at her temple. Her mouth moistened and her pulse quickened.

“Stop. Back up.” He spoke quietly, directly into her ear.

It took a few seconds for her brain to relay his words to her fingers. She cleared her throat. “This page?”

“Yes.”

It was no surprise he’d chosen the most conservative of the bunch. She extracted a sample from the folder. “This?”

“Yes.”

She picked up a pen with a hand that wasn’t as steady as she would have liked and made a note, then did the same on the computer. “With that I’d recommend these.”

She flipped to the next item on her list. Thank goodness the program she’d installed prompted her or else she would be floundering. What was wrong with her? She loved planning events. And yet today she could barely connect the dots.

Concentrate. “I’ll make sure to order an assortment of spare masks for the guests who don’t bring their own. Would you like for me to get one for you?”

“Amanda.”

She turned her head at his low-voiced but commanding tone. Their faces and lips were scarce inches apart—the closest they’d been to date. The temptation to close the distance between their mouths streaked across her mind. She forced her gaze to his eyes and dragged a slow breath into her lungs.

Lambent desire flickered in his dark chocolate eyes. “You know what I want.”

Did she ever. Her pulse rate rocketed. She swallowed and nodded. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“I trust you to make the decisions to make it happen.” Firm. Decisive. Not at all seductive.

What? Confused, she blinked and sat back.

“We’ve covered the basics,” he continued. “I’ll leave the rest in your capable hands.”

Work. He was talking about work?

Of course he is. That’s why you’re here. Remember? Get your head out of the ozone, Amanda Crawford.

“I’ll get right on it.” She hastily closed her laptop, then grabbed the file folder and stacked it on top.

Alex shifted again, leaning forward so that his chest and arm pressed her back and shoulder, enfolding her in his warmth and scent. “Before you go, I have something I know you can’t resist.”

Her heart thumped like a bass drum, the beat reverberating off her eardrums and her gaze drifted back to his mouth.

He reached across the table and extracted two small boxes from the take-out bag. “Baklava. Two kinds. Walnut and chocolate. I couldn’t neglect your sweet tooth.”

She wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t.

Yes, she was.

What is wrong with you? Do you actually miss him trying to get into your pants? How perverted is that?

But she was touched he’d noticed she had a weakness for sweets. Had Curtis? Had any of the men who’d blemished her relationship record in the past decade? Regrettably, no.

And what did that say about her taste in men and her ability to choose them wisely? Nothing good. Which was why her sudden yen for Alex Harper was bad news.

She transferred her attention to the flaky confections cut into bite-size diamonds.

“Go ahead, Amanda. Dive right in. You know you want to.”

Exactly. And that was becoming a big problem.

The police again?

Amanda’s steps faltered on the marble floor as she entered her lobby early Monday evening. She hoped the police presence was more of the same old unsolved investigation and not some new occurrence in the apartment building.

As she passed under the massive crystal chandelier on the way to the elevators she nodded a silent greeting to Detective McGray, who loomed over the doorman’s desk. His green eyes and lean, paunchy body looked tired and harassed.

The detective had been haunting the building since a former resident had been found dead back in late June. At first the police had believed Marie Endicott’s death to be a suicide, but now they suspected foul play. The possibility of someone being murdered in the building gave Amanda the creeps. She shivered and shifted her attention to the doorman.

Poor Henry was sweating and mopping his face with a handkerchief despite the frosty air Amanda brought whooshing in on her heels. She couldn’t blame the guy. The hard-eyed detective could make anyone squirm. McGray had certainly rattled her cage when he’d questioned her after the woman’s body had been found. Amanda hadn’t even known the deceased. But she’d heard everyone in the building had been questioned. And then there’d been an even more uncomfortable Q&A in July when Julia had received a blackmail letter from someone threatening to spill the news of her pregnancy.

Amanda stepped into the waiting elevator. According to her former roommate, the scandals of 721 Park Avenue’s residents could keep the tabloids busy for years. Yet another reason to keep the Curtis situation quiet. She wasn’t ready to involve Alex’s associate and risk exposing her predicament.

Which brought her thoughts back to Alex. As if they’d strayed far from that taboo subject lately. She sighed and leaned into the corner as the elevator shot upward. His enticement with the baklava had almost led her to create a scandal of a whole different kind. How she’d managed not to lick the man from head to toe right there in his office when he’d fed her a bite of chocolate baklava was still a mystery.

Kudos to her for having the good sense to invent another appointment and rush out of there before she devoured him and his baklava. Her willpower was stronger than she’d suspected. But it was worrisomely shaky.

The doors opened. She straightened and prepared to exit but stopped. Jane Elliott, penthouse B’s housekeeper, stood in the opening. Amanda glanced at the floor number. Six. “Hi, Jane. Going up?”

Jane hesitated and then stepped inside and hit the button for the penthouse. “Yes. Good evening, Amanda.”

The doors slid shut. Amanda briefly wondered who Jane had been visiting on the sixth floor and then shoved the question into the “none of her business” category.

She looked longingly at the housekeeper’s long, curly hair and wished—not for the first time—that her babyfine hair would hold a curl. But no. She might have inherited her mother’s height and build, but she’d been cursed with her father’s flyaway locks and pale coloring instead of the thick auburn hair and sultry looks that had made her mother a top fashion model for two decades before she’d traded in that career to become a successful clothing designer.

Bad hair. Just one more way to disappoint her overachieving parents. As if she needed another way.

She shook off the negative thoughts. “Detective McGray is back in the building. I haven’t missed anything new, have I?”

“I’m not aware of any new occurrences,” Jane replied. The doors opened again. “Are you visiting Gage—Mr. Lattimer, I mean?”

Amanda’s gaze shot to the numbers. “Oops. No. My mind was wandering. I guess I forgot to push the button for my floor.”

“Good night, then.” Jane left the elevator.

“Good night.” Amanda stabbed the 9 button. The doors closed. She smacked a palm against her forehead.

Alex had taken over her brain, and she couldn’t afford to mix business with her personal life again. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a clear pattern to show her the error of her ways.

During her senior year in high school she’d fallen head over heels for Heath, the star quarterback. She’d almost flunked her last semester and that would have cost her her acceptance to Vassar if her father hadn’t bailed her out by having a long talk with the dean. Amanda suspected there had probably been a deep-pocketed donation along with the discussion.

And then while in college she’d met Douglas at an art gallery. Talk about being stupidly distracted. She’d been young, naive and totally trusting. Douglas had been thirty-two, suave and so attentive. He’d swept her off her feet and taken her to Vegas. Instead of marrying her like she’d expected, he’d proceeded to gamble away the majority of the money she’d inherited from her grandmother on her twenty-first birthday. When the money had run out, so had he. She’d had to call home for airfare. Hadn’t that been embarrassing?

By the time Curtis rolled into her life, her parents considered her truly stupid and irresponsible. And she’d proven them right. She’d been distracted by the whole falling-in-love myth and she’d trusted too much. Apparently her hormonal stupors caused her to miss critical details—details that still could cost her Affairs by Amanda.

But the hormonal stupors induced by Heath, Douglas and Curtis were like mild colds compared to the fullblown flu version Alex brought on.

Maybe a little inoculation would cure her.

No. Don’t go there.

She couldn’t afford to lose her business. That meant she couldn’t lose her head. Because if she lost Affairs by Amanda she’d be forced to admit to her parents and herself that she was a failure.

“Alex.” The flash of hunger in Amanda’s eyes when she opened her door later that Monday was gratifying. The frown that followed was not. “What are you doing here and how did you get upstairs without Henry buzzing me?”

“I’m here because I heard you’re a Monday night football fan. And Gage Lattimer brought me up. He lives in the penthouse.”

She gave him a patient look. “I know who Gage is. You took a lot for granted assuming I’d be at home and free tonight.”

“I did, but I brought food, beer and fresh Krispy Kremes to make up for it.”

Her gaze dropped to the bags in his hands. Indecision filled her face. She shifted on her bare feet, drawing his attention to her fuchsia-painted toenails. “I don’t think—”

“And another party proposition.”

He had her. Whether it was the donuts or the party that sealed the deal didn’t matter. He saw capitulation soften her grey eyes before she opened the door wider, albeit with obvious reluctance. “Come in. But only if you’re pulling for the Giants.”

He grinned. “I have season tickets. Box seats. Fifty yard line. Be nice and I’ll take you to a game.”

That earned him a smile. What more could a guy want? Amanda was smart, sexy, a networking genius. And she liked football.

He scanned the place for competition as he followed her in, but he didn’t spot any sign of a date. He had taken a risk showing up uninvited tonight, but his previous strategy wasn’t working. He’d needed an adjustment. The exercise mat on the floor clued him in to her evening plans and explained her T-shirt, cotton pants and lack of makeup. Not that she needed to paint a face like hers.

He handed over the beer—an imported brew that Julia claimed was the only brand Amanda would drink. “Shove that in the refrigerator while I unpack the rest. The game doesn’t start for an hour. That gives us time to eat and talk about my brother’s birthday party.”

His brother. The lie didn’t slide as easily off his tongue with Amanda as it would with anyone else. For some reason he wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to claim Zack as his son. But revealing that secret would cause nothing but trouble and could possibly hurt Zack. Besides, it was nobody’s business.

“The party you wanted to discuss is for him?”

“Zack’s going to turn eighteen in a few months. I’d like to throw a big bash, one he’ll never forget. And I’ll need your help for that.” He shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of a bar stool before extracting the Chinese food containers and lining them up on her kitchen counter, but Amanda’s eyes drilled the donut box. He handed it to her.

“Dessert first?” she asked with a wistful look in her eyes.

How could he deny her? If she would look at him like that they’d both be naked and busy. “Go for it.”

She wasted no time ripping open the top, pulling out a glazed donut and biting into it. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back. “Mmm. Oh, my God, these are amazing.”

Her throaty words hit him below the belt with a kick of arousal that nearly took him to his knees.

She’ll look like that in bed.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as she greedily consumed the rest of her prize. She didn’t lift her lids until she’d finished the last sugary bite. Her tongue swept her lips, but white flakes of glaze clung to the corners. She lifted one finger to her mouth and licked.

He wanted that job.

Screw strategy. He grabbed her hand, carried it to his mouth and lapped her sticky fingertip with his tongue. Her breath hitched. But she didn’t slap him or yank her hand away. Without taking his eyes off hers he moved from the first sweetened digit to the second. His tongue swirled around the tip, and then he pulled her thumb into his mouth and repeated the process. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted.

He had to have her mouth. Now. Releasing her hand, he closed the distance between them.

“You have more sugar here.” He dipped his head to lick it away.

She leaned into him, lifting her chin in silent invitation. She didn’t have to ask twice. He traced the sugary outline of her lips. It wasn’t enough. He covered her mouth with his and delved into her silky warmth. The sweetness of the donut gave way to the unique flavor of the woman in his arms.

He’d been waiting months for this. He caught her waist and pulled her closer, crushing her against his chest and deepening the kiss. Her hands rested briefly on his shoulders, her short nails digging into his muscles and then her arms slid around his neck. She opened her mouth wider for him and her tongue sought his, slick and sweet, warm and wet.

She fit against him even better than he’d expected. Need rumbled up from his gut to his throat. He mapped her spine, her waist, her hips. She was long and lean and hot. His fingers found silky bare skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her pants.

She gasped and lifted her head. But she didn’t pull away. Her passion-darkened eyes sought his. “I—We shouldn’t do this, Alex.”

“It’s long overdue.”

Her gaze dropped back to his mouth. Regret flickered across her face. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”

“Should I fire you?” he teased.

She stiffened and panic widened her eyes. “You’d do that?”

He rubbed her back soothingly, enjoying the smooth warmth of her skin. “No. I honor my promises. And I promise you, Amanda, this isn’t a mistake. We’re going to be magnificent together. In bed and out.”

Indecision flitted across her features. And then she sighed. Her fingers threaded through his hair. She pulled his face back to hers. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t the aggressive, carnal, no-holds-barred kiss she planted on him.

She devoured him with the same intensity she’d given to the baklava at lunch and the donut tonight, and he was more than willing to be consumed. He cupped her butt and pressed her hips to his. If she hadn’t known where he wanted this to go then his growing erection was a dead giveaway. Damn, she was potent.

By the time she lifted her head and slid her hands to his pectorals, his heart was slamming like a wrecking ball against his chest wall.

She licked her damp lips. “This is crazy. I don’t have time for a man in my life right now. For the next few years, my career is my priority. Alex, if you can’t handle this being temporary then we need to stop. Now.”

Her frankness momentarily took him aback. But her willingness to speak freely was one of the things he liked about Amanda. Was she joking? What man would say no to a brief, passionate affair? Temporary was his specialty.

“I can handle it. Where’s your bedroom?”

For a second she hesitated, looking as if she might change her mind, but then she took his hand and led him across the living room. His gaze dropped to her butt in the thin knit pants. Nice. Firm. Rounded.

Her bedroom was as pink and white and feminine as the rest of the apartment. A thick, white faux-fur rug covered the floor. Filmy white drapes, tied back with brightly colored silky-looking scarves, hung behind a platform bed in a makeshift headboard. He’d never been one for bondage, but he couldn’t help thinking those scarves could come in handy later. He would like to tie her up and pleasure her until she begged him to stop.

Right now he was too impatient to play sexy games.

He yanked her hand, spinning her back into his arms. Their bodies and mouths slammed together, lips parting, tongues clashing. She met him stroke for stroke. Her fingers dug into his waist. Her pelvis nudged his. She wasn’t shy or coy, and her boldness was an incredible turn-on. He whisked her shirt over her head. Before he could savor her pale, smooth skin she attacked his shirt without hesitation.

Dressed, Amanda looked deceptively lean, but she had curves. Not overblown. But subtle, exquisite. Perfect. He wanted to linger, to savor her breasts above her lavender lace bra, but he’d wanted Amanda for months and hunger snuffed out patience. The bra gave way with a flick of his fingers. He tossed it aside and caught one puckered pink nipple in his mouth, the other in his hand. She tasted good. Smelled good. Her pale skin was warm and silky soft against his lips.

Her fingers speared his hair, flexed into his scalp with an energizing tug. Then she lightly scraped her nails across his shoulders and down his sides. His muscles rippled in the wake of her touch. Her nimble fingers encountered his belt. The leather gave way quickly, followed by the button and zipper of his pants. She had him so aroused he could barely concentrate.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one in a hurry. Her palms flattened against his hips and shoved the fabric of his pants and boxers over his butt and down his thighs. Her caress sent a shock of need through him, making him grit his teeth and struggle to fill his lungs.

He released her long enough to kick off his shoes and the remainder of his clothing, and then he ripped her pants down her long legs. The tattoo he uncovered when he removed her bikini panties caught him by surprise. “A martini?”

She nibbled her bottom lip as if she expected him to be repulsed by the ink. “An appletini. It’s a reminder that life’s supposed to be fun.”

With one finger he outlined the tilted glass just below her left hipbone and then knelt and sipped from the inked rim. He lifted his gaze to hers and rose. “It’s sexy as hell. Tasty, too.”

Her slow smile and the desire in her eyes decimated what was left of his control. “So are you.”

And that’s when he realized he might be in trouble. A little of Amanda Crawford might not be enough.

Four

Alexander Harper had been hiding a body to die for beneath his custom designer suits.

His wide shoulders, ropey muscles and washboard abs had Amanda salivating for the feel of those brawny arms wrapped around her. She bisected his smooth chest with her fingers, drawing a line between his pectorals to the goody trail below his navel and the dense dark hair surrounding his erection. His stomach quivered beneath her touch and his arousal twitched, begging her to curl her fingers around his thick length. She wasted no time in doing so. His breath whistled.

“Amanda.” The man actually growled.

She grinned mischievously up at him and stroked him from base to tip. “Yes?”

His pupils expanded and his skin flushed. “You’re playing with fire.”

“That’s okay. I like it hot.” She just hoped her desire for Alex didn’t burn her before it burned out.

Experience told her this was a mistake, but she couldn’t stop now. He’d monopolized her thoughts for three long months and she ached for him. Her thumb found a slick droplet pearling on his engorged tip and spread it around. She leaned forward to lick his tiny, brown nipple.

One strong arm banded around her, yanking her flush against his hot torso. His other hand stabbed into her hair, fisted and tugged just hard enough to force her head back. The combination of his scorching heat, his strength and his controlled aggression robbed her breath. His kiss was hard, bordering on rough, his passion barely contained. And she loved it. How long had it been since anyone wanted her so intensely? Had anyone, ever? She couldn’t remember. But she doubted it.

She released his erection, wound her arms around his neck and relished the heady desire racing through her. She loved that Alex was taller and broader than she. Both Curtis and Douglas had been her height. She’d felt like an Amazon with them. But not with Alex. He was bigger in every way, and he loomed over her, making her feel dainty, desirable and feminine and not the least bit delicate.

He skimmed her curves, kneaded her bottom. His tongue and hands worked magic, arousing her beyond anything she’d ever experienced as they flexed into her flesh. She kissed him back, tangling her fingers in his hair and arching as tight against him as she could get. It wasn’t close enough. She wanted to wind herself around him but settled for lifting her leg, sliding it up the outside of his hair-roughened, rock-hard, muscled thigh and hooking it around his waist. He grasped her knee and arched his hips, plunging deep inside her. The shock of his sudden penetration filled her, forcing the breath from her lungs on a moan of pure ecstasy.

He withdrew and then rocked upward again and again, nearly lifting her off the ground with each thrust. Her heart raced and every muscle in her body clenched with need as he drove deep, so deep inside her.

Alex swung her around and her world tilted. She felt herself falling. She clung to his shoulders and whimpered into his mouth, but he didn’t drop her. He eased her onto the mattress. Cool sheets pressed against her back, but it was the hot body above her and driving into her that held her rapt attention.

She tore her mouth free to gasp for air and buried her face in his neck. She couldn’t resist a nibble. He smelled good, tasted good, felt good. Around her. Over her. Inside her. Tension coiled below her navel. She squeezed him tight internally and externally, clasped his tight buttocks and pulled him in deeper still.

His groan reverberated against her chest. With each thrust he teased exactly the right spot, and she was getting close, so close. He captured her shoulders and barrelrolled them sideways until he was on his back and she straddled him on her knees.

“Finish us,” he ordered hoarsely. His hand found her breasts.

She’d never been much for taking orders, but when he tweaked her nipples like that, sending darts of pleasure straight to her core, she would do pretty much anything he asked. She rose above him and then sank down, taking as much of him as she could. Over and over she filled herself with him, rose and dropped, swiveled and rocked. Again and again. His blunt-cut nails raked down her belly to comb through her pale curls. He found her center and buffed her with his thumb.

She wanted to wait, to savor, to explore the tension twisting tighter with each caress, but it had been too long. She couldn’t hold off. Ecstasy exploded through her, radiating outward in shock wave after shock wave. Her muscles contracted, whipping her forward until she and Alex were face to face, breast to breast, her palms planted beside his head. She lost herself in the hunger burning in his eyes, hunger for her that beat anything she’d experienced before. He gripped her hips as he thrust upward, harder and faster, and then his eyes squeezed shut and his body bowed off the bed as release jerked through him, setting off a series of tiny aftershocks inside her.

Their rapid breaths mingled as she stared at the handsome face beneath hers and tried to right her world. She’d had sex with demanding, impatient, workaholic Alex Harper. And she was absolutely certain she was going to regret that…in a minute.

But right now she felt too damned good to worry that Alex Harper had just given her the best sex of her life.

Alex Harper was a god in bed. Amanda could have lived without that knowledge.

Muscles quivering, she fell back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath and listening to Alex doing the same beside her. Wow.

The road to hell was paved with good intentions. And she had paved miles of it last night. She’d meant to send Alex packing the second he’d arrived. But the fresh, still warm donuts, along with the possibility of another party contract, had defeated her.

And then she’d meant to kick him out when he licked her fingers, igniting a blaze inside her. But she hadn’t been able to say the words no or go.

She’d planned to send him home after they made love the first time. And again after the second. But somehow they’d ended up sharing dinner while watching the second half of the Giants game naked before climbing back into bed, where he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

Third time the charm? Could she rally her willpower this time? And did she really want to?

Starting a Tuesday morning with multiple orgasms beat an alarm clock any day of the week. She smiled to herself and turned her head to find Alex’s dark eyes focused on her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Having him here felt too good. Too right. “You should go.”

“In a minute. Right now I don’t think I could stand.” He delivered the words with a rueful but naughty smile that practically turned her wrong-side-outward.

The scent of their lovemaking permeated her bedroom. The lingering fatigue of a busy night weighted her muscles. Amanda wasn’t sure she had the strength to crawl to the shower and prepare for her morning appointment. Alex had even farther to go.

“How will you make it to Connecticut and back in time for work?”

“I keep a spare suit at the office. I’ll shower here. With you.”

A thrill raced through her, but she choked out a laugh. “I don’t have to be psychic to know how that’ll end up. With both of us being late for work.”

He grinned and rolled onto his side. But then his smile faded. He gently brushed the hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Come home with me this weekend.”

Her lungs refused to work.

“We never discussed Zack’s party. He’s a great kid. If you meet him you’ll get a feel for what he likes, and we’ll have a better chance of surprising him with something that’ll blow his mind.”

Work. He’s talking about work. Focus. “You want this to be a surprise party?”

“Yes. Spend the weekend at my place. You can meet Zack and my parents.”

She recoiled. The last thing she needed was for her mom and dad to get wind of her dating Alex. He would be the only man she’d ever hooked up with that they would consider suitable. And she was throwing him back just as soon as she came to her senses.

“Alex, we don’t have and will never have a meet-the-parents kind of relationship.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m implying. You need to visit my parents’ house. That’s probably the best place for the party if we want to keep it under wraps. If after you see the place you don’t like that idea, then I’d like to have the party somewhere else in Greenwich so Zack’s friends can come. You’ll have to help me choose an alternate location.”

Why did he keep making offers she couldn’t afford to refuse? She sighed. “If I say yes to spending the weekend with you, you’re not going to take it the wrong way and think this affair is more than temporary insanity, are you?”

He rolled over her, planting his knees between hers and propping his elbows on either side of her body. His eyes held hers and his breath teased her lips. Desire stirred anew. “This relationship will last only as long as it’s beneficial to both of us.”

And with his body intimately connected to hers it was hard not to appreciate the benefits of their association. But uncertainty nagged her, tensing muscles that had been completely lax just moments ago.

She forced herself to relax. She needed this job and any other that Alex could throw her way. She could handle whatever else came up. And he was hellaciously good in bed.

“Okay. I’ll come to Greenwich with you.”

Amanda had known Alex was loaded, but she hadn’t expected his home to be a large estate at the end of a winding, white-fenced, paddock-lined road in the Greenwich backcountry.

She followed him into the sprawling stone center hall colonial Friday evening and paused in the two-storied marbled and wainscoted foyer. To her left she could see a living room with a soaring stone fireplace, a wet bar and a suede sectional sofa.

“Alex, this is nice.”

“Were you expecting a bachelor pad?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You do have a reputation as a guy with a short attention span.”

“Is that why you kept playing hard to get?”

“I told you I wasn’t playing. I am hard to get. Not that you’d know it by this week’s performance.”

His lips tilted in that sexy, I’m-going-to-get-you-in-trouble-and-you’re-going-to-love-it smile that made her insides hum like a beehive. He set their bags at the foot of the stairs and strolled toward her, lazily, but with a predatory glint in his eyes that quickened her pulse. “I have no complaints with your performance.”

Her body flushed from her center to her fingertips, which she pressed to his chest to stop the embrace she saw coming. “Nor I yours, but we’ll never get the details of your party finalized if you don’t quit distracting me.”

Alex had come to her place two of the past three evenings after work under the guise of planning his party. He’d spent the nights, but not working on arrangements. She hadn’t started regretting the involvement yet. But she knew she would. Her relationships always came back to bite her.

He captured her hand with his, lacing their fingers. “I’ll give you a quick tour.”

“Don’t we have to be at your parents’ for dinner soon?”

Mischief glinted in his eyes. She’d seen that look often enough recently to know it meant he wanted her naked, and if she gave him about three seconds’ leeway she’d want it, too. Anticipation made her pulse stutter.

“That’s why you’re getting the abbreviated tour. Otherwise I’d be showing you my bedroom from beneath the sheets. You wouldn’t see much of the house that way.” The man oozed sexuality.

Desire pulsed through her. She tamped it down. “Lead on.”

Her heels tapped out a beat on the hardwood floors as he whisked her past a cherry-paneled study, formal living and dining rooms and through the gourmet eat-in kitchen with black-granite countertops. The place begged for a family to fill it and for a woman to soften the stark decor with a vase of flowers here and there or a few knickknacks or framed photographs.

Did Alex plan to marry and have children? She’d never heard of him staying with anyone long enough to get close to settling down. But why own a place like this if he didn’t plan to start a family?

And why do you care?

You don’t.

She followed him outside onto a limestone-tile patio. Her breath clouded the cold night air. Outdoor lighting illuminated a lap pool that had to be at least fifty feet long. In the shadows beyond the subtle glow she caught hints of lawn and in the distance a low stone wall like the one out front. Evergreen trees mingled with the bare-limbed deciduous variety—one of which had a huge branch perfect for a rope swing. Alex’s home would be the perfect place to raise children.

Children. She’d never thought about having them. And couldn’t now. Her life was a mess. Until she had that straightened out, she couldn’t think about adding complications. But she suddenly wondered if she was missing out.

Of course not. What do you know about good parenting? Nada.

She hugged her coat tighter around her to ward off the frosty air. “You said bring a swimsuit, but it’s too cold to swim.”

“I have a hot tub if you want to brave it later.” He pointed toward a sheltered corner of the patio. “But my parents have an indoor pool. Tomorrow we can swim with Zack, and you can try to get a feel for what kind of party he’d like.”

He led her back inside and up the stairs to a vaultedceiling bedroom decorated in black, white and grey. A king-size bed with a raw-silk pewter bedspread and a massive, carved cherry headboard took up only a quarter of the large room. A gas fireplace with a cozy sitting area had been centered on the wall opposite the bed, and French doors led to a Juliet balcony overlooking the pool and large backyard. She suspected the view from the windows would be beautiful and green in summer.

The room reminded her of Alex. Luxurious, but no frills, no clutter.

Her gaze returned to the bed she’d be sharing with him. It didn’t bother her that she’d be just one of many to pass through it.

It didn’t.

Yes, it did. And that made no sense. She had no claim on him. And didn’t want one.

“Is this where you entertain your women?” She wanted the catty words back the instant she said them. Why had she said them? She wasn’t usually the type to blurt out her thoughts.

“I don’t bring women here. I go to their place. You might have noticed the express-train commute and climbing into a cold car at the depot isn’t exactly romantic.” Alex left his Mercedes at the station every day before heading for Manhattan.

She smiled. “I can see how a forty-minute ride on the express train could kill the mood.”

He stroked a fingertip along her jaw, sending ripples of arousal through her. “Has it killed the mood?”

Not even close. She would much rather stay here, strip down and make love with him in front of a roaring fire than eat with his family. Family dinners, in her opinion, were rarely comfortable affairs. But that wouldn’t help her get Affairs by Amanda on a firmer financial foundation.

“Ahem. What time are your parents expecting us?”

“Soon. I’ll save the tour of the third-floor gym, sauna and steam shower and the basement for later. As much as I’d prefer to keep you here—” he dipped his head to indicate the bed “—we need to go.”

She appreciated his restraint because apparently she’d lost hers—and her perspective right along with it. This weekend was all about business. And that meant meeting his well-connected parents was high on her to-do list.

Like it or not.

If Alex’s home had been impressive, Amanda found his parents’ French Chateau-styled waterfront mansion in Old Greenwich downright intimidating even in the dark. Well-placed landscape uplighting illuminated the sheer scale of the place.

Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a witch’s bubbling cauldron of some hot brew. Why was she nervous about meeting his parents? They were merely prospective clients, not prospective in-laws, and she’d grown up in affluent circles.

It was because of the job, the connections and the possibility of tapping into Greenwich society’s deep pockets for future events. The results of this meeting could make Affairs by Amanda financially secure.

But she’d interviewed for jobs with society’s movers and shakers before, and those hadn’t made her this nervous. And thanks to her family and her Vassar education, she knew many über-wealthy people. But still, the unexplainable butterflies tormented her.

The front door of the house opened and a tall, lanky, dark-haired teen came out. Despite the frosty temperature he wasn’t wearing a coat over his short-sleeved Giants T-shirt. Unsmiling, he strolled toward the car as they climbed out.

“He looks just like you,” she told Alex, when he joined her at the end of the long walkway.

Alex’s eyes narrowed and his face seemed to tense. Why?

“I take it that’s your brother?”

“That’s Zack.”

She noted and disregarded the odd note in Alex’s voice. Bringing a woman home to meet the folks implied things they didn’t want implied. Was he as uncomfortable about this as she? “He’s cute. As I imagine you were at seventeen. I’m sure you were a lady-killer in training.”

He shot her an odd look but said nothing, since Zack had reached them. Alex held out his upraised hand, grasped palms with his brother in a boys-from-the-hood kind of handshake and then the males slapped each other’s back in an almost-hug. Zack, obviously playing it cool, didn’t crack a smile, but his excitement over seeing Alex sparkled in eyes the same brown shot with gold as Alex’s.

“Amanda, this is Zack. Zack, my friend Amanda Crawford.”

She shot Alex a quick questioning glance. What was that about? The emphasis he’d put on the word friend implied they were more than friendly, and she didn’t want to give his family the wrong impression. Sure, they were lovers at the moment, but that would soon change. This was merely business with benefits.

Amanda offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Zack.”

The teen surveyed her from head to toe. Did she detect a tinge of resentment in his eyes? He briefly shook hands. “You, too.”

Zack turned his attention back to Alex. “The ’rents are waiting inside.”

Alex placed a hand in the small of her back and guided her up the walk and into the house. The foyer was as opulent as the outside of the house had led her to expect. The decor emitted an old-money feel with an intricately patterned hardwood floor, classic antique furniture, luxurious Persian carpets and artwork by Albert Bierstadt and Frederic Church on the soaring wainscoted walls.

Her stomach twisted tighter with each echoing step as she and Alex followed Zack’s loping stride into a paneled den. A man and woman rose with welcoming smiles on their faces from the sofas that flanked the brick fireplace. It was easy to see that Alex and Zack had inherited their mother’s coloring and patrician bone structure. The blueeyed blond man was the exact opposite coloring-wise of the woman by his side.

“Mom, Dad, this is Amanda Crawford. Amanda, my parents, Ellen and Harry Harper.”

Alex’s mother immediately stepped forward and pulled Amanda into an exuberant hug. The warmth of her greeting took Amanda aback. And then Ellen put her at arm’s length, clasped both of Amanda’s hands and beamed as if she’d just been voted Time’s Woman of the Year. “We are so glad Alex has finally brought someone home.”

Apprehension tickled Amanda’s toes.

“Mother, I told you this wasn’t—”

“Oh, hush, Alex. Go pour us drinks, darling. I can’t wait to get to know your Amanda better.”

Amanda’s uneasiness multiplied. She gave Alex a fix-this glare. He shrugged and she wanted to smack him. Instead she forced a smile and turned back to her hostess when Alex surprisingly complied with his mother’s command.

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mrs. Harper.”

“Ellen. We don’t stand on formality here. And we’re happy to have you.”

As soon as Ellen released her, Alex’s father took her place and captured Amanda’s hand in both of his. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Amanda. Your father and I have known each other for years. He’s spoken of you often. When I talked with Theo this afternoon I told him you were coming home with Alex tonight. We couldn’t be more pleased.”

Amanda barely stifled a groan. The evening couldn’t get worse. Alex’s parents and hers thought there was more to this relationship than party planning and stellar, though temporary sex. When it was over, she’d have to listen to her parents’ lectures about yet another failed relationship.

Oh, joy. She couldn’t wait for that.

Five

Amanda Crawford was a professional charmer. The past two days had only reinforced Alex’s opinion that she was the woman for the job of increasing his visibility and connections. No other woman would do.

His family’s overexuberant welcome Friday night had thrown her, but after one panicked glance at him, she’d sailed in like a trouper and worked her magic for the remainder of the weekend, putting everyone at ease and keeping the conversation flowing. She’d even teased Zack out of his surly mood—a mood Zack seemed to exhibit more often than not these days.

Amanda was smoother than the Rémy Martin Louis XIII cognac he brought out to celebrate special occasions. It was only because Alex knew her agenda that he’d recognized the subtle, skillful questioning she’d employed to tease Zack’s hobbies and interests from him this weekend.

Pulling out his BlackBerry, Alex made a note to schedule some one-on-one time with Zack to get to the bottom of the bad attitude. It frustrated him that he could give only brotherly advice. Eighteen years ago he’d wanted nothing to do with fatherhood and would have readily paid for an abortion. And that would have been a mistake. Now he wanted to claim his son, to tell Zack how proud he was of him. But that could never happen.

Shoving away the nagging thoughts, he put his Black-Berry away and studied Amanda’s profile as the taxi neared her apartment building. She had her face turned toward the window, apparently enthralled by the gently falling snow or the bustle of pedestrians. More likely ignoring him.

Except for Amanda Crawford, women didn’t ignore him.

He could feel her putting distance between them. In fact, he had felt the chill since they’d boarded the train to Grand Central Terminal. She’d wanted him to stay in Greenwich, let her travel home alone. But he always saw his women to the door.

The only downside to the weekend was when they’d said good-bye three hours ago, after Sunday brunch. His mother had been wearing a smug smile that told him she was already planning a wedding. His and Amanda’s.

That wasn’t going to happen, but she refused to believe him no matter how many times he’d told her he spent too much time dealing with the financial fallout caused by nasty divorces to be interested in signing up for that headache. It concerned him that his mother had bonded so quickly with Amanda. But that was partially his fault. He’d never taken a woman home before.

The taxi pulled to a stop at 721 Park Avenue. Alex climbed from the car and turned to hand Amanda out of the vehicle. The sight of her long legs beneath a short cashmere dress hit him, along with memories of her kneeling above him in bed, wrapped around him in the shower and stretched out on the rug in front of his fireplace. His heart kicked into overdrive.

He stepped to the back of the car, paid the driver and took Amanda’s suitcase from the cabbie before she could reach it.

“Alex, there’s no need to walk me up. Take the taxi back to the station.”

“We need to discuss Zack’s party. I want to know what you and my mother cooked up when she banished the men of the house to play billiards.”

Amanda hugged her coat tighter around her middle. Snowflakes settled on her fuzzy pink knit hat. “Nothing earth-shattering, but she and Zack gave me some ideas to work with. We have plenty of time to plan his birthday. Your company party is a different story. You change the subject every time I bring that up.”

“Correction—I’ve put the event in your capable hands and I trust you with the details.”

“I know you said you wanted me to handle everything, but I’d really like your input on a few items. Carte blanche sounds like a good idea to an event planner, but I’ve learned the hard way those kinds of events rarely live up to the expectations of the one who’s footing the bill. You have expectations whether you realize it or not.”

Since he wasn’t ready to say good-night, he’d play along. “We’ll grab a couple of coffees and your favorite chocolate muffins, and you can tell me what else you’ve come up with.”

Talking wasn’t all he intended to do. The minute she finished her muffin he’d untie the knot at the waist of her plum colored dress and unwrap her, one pale, delicious inch at a time. If he could wait that long.

His hunger for her these past three months had bordered on an obsession. Why hadn’t having her—repeatedly—lessened his need? It was a weakness he wouldn’t tolerate, and that meant getting past it.

Amanda’s less-than-enthusiastic expression would give a less confident man performance anxiety. But he knew he pleased her in bed. She wasn’t shy about expressing her pleasure or asking for what she needed. And that turned him on like nothing else.

“It’s been a long weekend, Alex. I need to prepare for the upcoming week and—”

“Invite me up, Amanda.”

Her lips parted at his gruff tone. She held his gaze. He could tell she was considering refusing. He stepped closer, invading her space, and nudged his thigh against hers, earning a gratifying hitch of her breath.

“Fine. You can come up for a few minutes.”

They made a quick, silent detour to Park Café and then returned to her building. The doorman watched them from the moment they entered, his narrowed gaze falling on Amanda’s suitcase in Alex’s hand.

“Hello, Henry,” Amanda greeted him.

The doorman nodded. “Good afternoon, Ms. Crawford, Mr. Harper.”

Alex nodded a greeting and escorted Amanda across the white marble-floored lobby and around the doorman’s desk. He had learned to trust his first impressions of people and there was something about the man’s eyes and body language that bothered him.

Amanda looked up at Alex as they crossed the lobby. “I cannot get over how much your brother looks like you. It’s almost as if he’s a carbon copy. He has your coloring, your gestures and even a similar speech pattern.”

The back of Alex’s neck prickled. She had spent a lot of time with Zack. Had she guessed the truth? “We’re brothers. Siblings have similarities.”

“Since I don’t have any brothers or sisters I wouldn’t know. You both look exactly like your mother. I couldn’t find any trace of your father in either you or Zack.”

He didn’t want to pursue this conversation. He hit the elevator call button since her hands were full with the coffee and muffin bag and her oversize tote bag.

“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed having you in my bed all weekend?” He leaned toward her and pitched his voice low so Henry couldn’t overhear.

Her breath caught and desire expanded her pupils, igniting a burn in his gut. She darted a quick glance over his shoulder toward the doorman’s desk and then hit him with a small naughty smile that knocked the air from his lungs. “You might have mentioned it. Once or twice.”

Hunger pulsed through him. “I want to stay tonight, Amanda.”

Her cheeks flushed. The elevator doors opened. She hustled into the car, pivoted on her spike-heeled ankle boots and faced him as the doors closed. “You have to stop doing that. We’re temporary, remember?”

He stroked her jaw with a fingertip and then bent to sip from her lips once, twice, a third time. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He drew back until only the tips of their noses touched.

“Stop telling you I want you? Or stop spending the night? I’m not moving in, Amanda. I want to be lost in you again. We’re good together.”

Her head tipped back to rest against the wall. Staring up at him, she swallowed, licked her lips and inhaled a shuddery breath.

“You can stay tonight. But, Alex, when your party ends, we end. Okay? I’m not looking for forever. And neither are you. Let’s not try to make something out of this temporary diversion that it’s not. Your parents already think…Well, you’re going to have to convince them that it’s not going to happen.”

Interesting to be on the receiving end of that comment for a change. Interesting. But not enjoyable. “No. It’s not. I don’t do marriage.”

He wanted her for more than a few weeks, but he’d worry about changing her mind later. At the most they’d last a few months. He’d never met a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Not even Zack’s mother. Especially not Zack’s mother. Chelsea Brooks was one devious, deceitful, greedy bitch. Too bad he hadn’t known that before their affair.

But Amanda wasn’t like Chelsea in any way. He leaned as close as the carrier of coffee Amanda held between them would allow and lowered his head. She met him halfway. Her lips parted and her tongue met his. Silky, slick, seductive. Need rose within him. He angled his head to deepen the kiss. Her scent filled his nose. Releasing her suitcase, he burrowed his hands beneath her heavy coat to the warmth of her waist and dug his fingers into the soft cashmere of her dress. His palms wicked up her heat, spreading it up his arms and through his torso.

A few months of this would be enough.

It would have to be. But at the moment his hunger for her seemed insatiable.

A chime announced they’d reached Amanda’s floor. He lifted his head and inhaled a sobering breath a second before the doors glided open. The interruption was a good thing, since he wasn’t into public displays of affection.

How did she do that to him? Make him forget where he was and that the elevator probably had security cameras? In his business, image was everything. He couldn’t afford to be caught with his pants down—literally or metaphorically. But then again, no one at 721 Park cared what he did. He wasn’t a resident. And in Greenwich he kept a low profile. The press ignored him to focus on the celebrities who made their home within the town’s borders.

He released Amanda, grabbed the handle of her suitcase and followed her out. He had to admit he found the slightly dazed look in her grey eyes gratifying. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one in a hormonal fog.

But like the weather, this fog would eventually lift.

Why had she let Alex talk her into this? Amanda asked herself as she unlocked her apartment door.

Because he gave you that look—the one that deepsixes your ability to think. A look he’s probably been perfecting since he was younger than Zack.

And he bribed you with a muffin.

God, you’re easy.

After sixty almost uninterrupted hours of Alex’s company, she needed to get away from the man. Watching him interact with Zack, she’d seen a side of him this weekend that she could have lived without—a caring, gentle, understanding side that had gone a long way toward eroding Alex’s player image. And she couldn’t afford to see him as anything less than a player. Alex was all about temporary and so was she. She liked it that way.

She shouldered open her door and marched straight into her kitchen, where she deposited her tote, the coffee and the bakery bag on the table. Alex followed.

“Have a seat. I’ll get your file. It’s in my office.”

He caught her elbow as she passed. “Eat first. I know you like your muffins hot and fresh from the oven.”

“That’s because the chocolate chips will still be gooey and delicious.” Thinking about it made her mouth water. She shrugged out of her coat. He took it from her and laid hers and his over the back of the extra chair.

Get it over with. Feed him. Update him. Get rid of him.

While she grabbed plates from the cabinet he tore open the bag. The scent of chocolate and roasted walnuts filled the room. Her stomach growled as she climbed onto one of the high stools. Alex did the same beside her. Their knees bumped beneath the table, sending a spray of sparks northward.

Good grief. She’d exhausted a year’s quota of orgasms this weekend. How could she still get all shivery and hot from just bumping knees with the man?

Doing her best to ignore him in his charcoal cashmere V-neck sweater and snug black jeans, she peeled away the muffin’s paper. Melted chocolate quickly coated her fingers. If she were alone she’d lick her fingers. But with Alex here she had to act like less of a glutton.

She rose to find some napkins, but Alex caught her wrist, pulling her between his splayed knees. His desirefilled gaze locked with hers as he lifted her hand to his mouth and laved her fingertip with a slick swipe. She shivered with want. He moved on to the next messy fingertip and the next.

Her eyelids grew heavy and drifted closed. Not good. Lack of sight only accentuated her other senses. She lost herself in his scent, the brackets of his strong thighs around her hips, the hot caress of his tongue swirling around each fingertip and the feel of his hand on the thin skin of her wrist. He couldn’t possibly miss her racing pulse beneath his thumb.

She forced her eyes open. He finished the left hand and moved to her right. Desire flushed his cheekbones with dark color, making her feel hotter and gooier than the muffin’s melted chips.

But she didn’t protest because she couldn’t find her voice. He dipped his finger into a glistening melted chocolate spot in his muffin and then painted her lips with a slow sweep. The intense concentration of his dark eyes on her mouth made breathing nearly impossible. He bent his head and licked and nibbled off the chocolate.

She nearly collapsed into a puddle at his feet.

Stop him. Stop this. Wanting him this much can’t be good.

The warm, wet, slow pass of his tongue dragged a moan from her. He took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss. She savored the delicious combination of chocolate and Alex. But then he drew back. Relieved to escape the onslaught—and yes, a little disappointed, too—she stared at him.

A slow smile worked its way across his lips. He pinched off a morsel of muffin and brought it to her lips. “Open.”

She dumbly complied. The rich, chocolaty taste filled her mouth. Her taste buds did their usual dance. But she would rather be tasting the man tormenting her. She swallowed. As if he’d read her mind, his mouth covered hers again. He devoured her mouth with sips, nips and swirls. Her thoughts whirled like fruit in a blender. He had her off balance mentally and physically.

A tug at her waist sobered her. She jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“Wait and see.” He pulled again at the tie of her wraparound dress. Cool air swept her torso as he brushed the fabric aside.

Her still-sticky fingers kept her from grabbing her dress as it slid off her shoulders and caught at her elbows. She’d never get chocolate stains out. “We’re supposed to be going over your part—”

He smeared a streak of chocolate just above the lace of her bra, dipping into her cleavage.

“Hey!” And then he bent to lap it up. Her protest turned into a groan. “Working, Alex. We’re supposed to be working.”

But the heat inside her intensified, liquefying her knees. Her legs weakened. She grasped the table’s edge to keep herself upright. He painted another melted chocolate chip stripe on her other breast, then laved her clean. His fingers hooked her bra straps and lowered them to her upper arms, baring her nipples, which he circled with more chocolate paint. The heat of his moist mouth enclosed her, the suction tugging at the desire deep in her belly and pulling forth a response she thought he’d exhausted.

She bit her lip on a whimper of want. She would never be able to eat her favorite food again without remembering this.

“Touch me,” he ordered against her breast.

“Hands. Chocolate. Cashmere.” She couldn’t retrieve more from the mush he’d made of her brain.

Alex stood, ripped his sweater and the T-shirt he’d worn beneath it over his head and tossed them.

Food sex. A new one for her. New and exciting. But then sex with Alex had been an adventure each time. One she’d have to end. Soon.

She crumbled off a corner of the moist cake and swiped her finger through a melted morsel. Debating her options, she decided to plant a fingerprint on each flat nipple. Holding his gaze, she bent to lick him clean.

His pupils expanded and his hands fastened on her waist, tightening and releasing as she worked zealously to cleanse his skin. He groaned. “Watching you eat your muffins has been driving me crazy for months.”

Stunned, she straightened. “Watching me eat turns you on?”

“It’s the sensual way you savor each bite. I knew you’d wear the same expression when I was inside you.”

Heat rushed through her, and her pulse quickened to double time. “I do?”

“Yes. Drop the dress.” His low voice rumbled over her skin like the roar of an approaching motorcycle.

She had to be out of her mind to comply. They were here to work. But work would have to wait. She dropped her arms by her side and let the dress go. The soft fabric drifted down, caressing her calves as it passed to puddle around her ankle boots.

Alex unfastened her bra and sent it on the same path, leaving her in nothing but her lavender lace thong and shoes. He devoured her with his gaze, lingering over her breasts, slowly sweeping her belly, her hips and her thighs before taking an equally meandering return trip.

His hands bracketed her waist and stroked a swath of heat, first upward to tease the undersides of her breasts and then downward, dragging the thong to her knees as he passed. He bent to press an openmouthed kiss over the tattoo on her left hip, stealing her breath, and then he lifted her onto the stool she’d abandoned and whisked her lingerie over her ankles. He splayed his hands on her knees, separated them and stepped between her thighs. His arms banded around her, bringing them chest to scorching chest as his mouth branded hers in a hot, wet, carnal kiss. His tongue plunged deep.

His hands swept her back, her waist and finally her breasts. He stroked and tweaked her nipples until hunger consumed her and she squirmed with need. His hands traveled lower, finding her wetness and igniting a fire no amount of moisture could put out. Alex had great hands, she’d grant him that. And a great mouth. And a great—

The nip of his teeth on her neck cut off her thoughts. She arched into his touch, relishing each stroke of his fingers until she teetered on the edge of release and she would need more than just his hand.

He had on too many clothes. The supple skin of his back goose-bumped beneath the light rake of her nails. His buttocks clenched under her caress. She dragged her fingers around the inside of his belt, opened the buckle and lowered his zipper. Impatient to pleasure him as he was her, she shoved his pants and briefs over his hips and curled her fingers around his erection. His hot, silky flesh thickened and pulsed with the stroke of her hand.

Alex broke the kiss on a hissed inhalation and withdrew a condom from his pocket before letting his pants fall to the floor.

Striving for mental distance, she nodded to the packet in his hand. “You keep those on you at all times, huh?”

“When I’m with you, yes. Otherwise, no. I’m too old to think like a kid who’s always prepared on the off chance he might get lucky.”

Not what she wanted to hear. That made him sound as if he weren’t a player. She reminded herself they had only thirteen days left. Less than two weeks to gorge herself on Alex’s talent in bed, the shower, the hot tub, or in the kitchen, as the case may be tonight. And then she would quit him cold turkey. Part of her wanted to store up as much sexual satisfaction as she could until then. Another part warned her to pull back now before she became as addicted to this man as she was to Park Café’s chocolate muffins.

Her needy, demanding side won the argument. She curled her fingers around his nape, threaded them through his hair and pulled him forward for another kiss. Alex didn’t hesitate to step up to the plate. You had to like a man who was confident enough not to be threatened when a woman turned aggressive.

He let her set the tone for the kiss. Or maybe he was just as desperate and edgy and needy as she was. Their teeth clashed. Their noses bumped. But his soft lips, slick tongue and dexterous hands kept her fire stoked.

One corner of her mind heard the condom wrapper tear. A tiny part realized he was taking care of protection, but her pulse roared when he grasped her hips, dug his fingers into her bottom, and pulled her to the edge of the high stool.

He nudged her entrance, slicking his tip in her moisture, and then he thrust forward. She tore her mouth from his to gasp as he filled her. When he withdrew, she dug her nails into his buttocks and pulled him back. He slid deep again and withdrew over and over. His teeth nipped her neck, making her gasp as a shock of longing bolted through her. She tilted her head to grant him better access.

Her pleasure built, fueled by his thumb circling her center. She wound her legs around his hips, savored the steam of his breath on her neck, her jaw, her cheek. And then orgasm reverberated through her like blasts from a bass speaker, making her body pulse and contract.

Alex’s hands tightened on her bottom, his tempo increased and his mouth covered hers in a desperate, edgy kiss. His groan filled her mouth as he stiffened with his own release.

Every cell in her body felt alive and aware of this man and of this moment. Why hadn’t any other man ever felt this good or made her feel this good?

It wasn’t fair that she’d finally found one who rocked her world. And she couldn’t keep him. He was too much a part of that restrictive world she’d grown up in.

The one in which she’d never fit.

Six

A cell phone jarred Amanda from sleep. She rolled over and blindly, groggily slapped around the nightstand until her fingers closed around the device. She fumbled it open.

“Hello.” Cracking an eyelid, she looked at her digital clock. Five-thirty. Who would be calling at this ungodly hour on a Monday morning?

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