“Don’t you want me to get undressed, Alec?” Molly asked

“Sure I do.” His voice was husky, his gaze hot and intense. “But you could have had the decency to wait until I was here to watch.”

“Oh.” Molly’s breasts tingled. Well, of course she should let him watch. Obviously she still had a few things to learn about being a wild woman. “All right, then. Pay attention. I’m going to take off my skirt now.”

And she proceeded to take off the garment an inch at a time, making sure her breasts shimmied with every movement. “Enjoying this?” she asked.

Alec looked down at his straining sex, a wry grin on his face. “Obviously.”

“Tell you what.” She wiggled again, nearly free of the material.

“What?” He was almost fully erect, and it was an impressive sight.

“When I finish this little chore, there might be something else I can do for you….”

She paused, letting the anticipation build. “Do you remember telling me that I had a perfect mouth?” At his dumbfounded nod, Molly slowly ran her tongue over her lips. “Well, what do you say we take it for a test-drive…?”

Dear Reader,

Being chauffeured is a rush, at least for me. Thanks to Harlequin’s promotional events, I’ve had the privilege several times, but one instance in particular stands out. I’d been invited to a reader event at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, the same place they filmed Pretty Woman. Mark Williamson, who met me at LAX, was moonlighting as a chauffeur while waiting for his big break in music. So far, he’d recorded many commercials and one album.

I mentioned Mark to the Harlequin people orchestrating the event, and they hired him for the weekend. On one outing he took us on a tour of Beverly Hills, admitting some time into it that he really didn’t know where the stars lived. We didn’t care. We listened to his album on the CD player and enjoyed his company. I lost track of Mark after that weekend, but I’ve always hoped he got the big break he was looking for.

Ever since that experience, I thought a chauffeur would make a terrific hero, and at last Alec Masterson showed up to handle the job. If all chauffeurs looked like Alec, women would burn their driver’s licenses. Come along for the ride as Alec does his best (and his best is awesome) to drive Molly Drake wild.

Warmly,

P.S. If you’re online, drop by my Web site at www.vickilewisthompson.com and say hello!

Drive Me Wild
Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Mark Williamson, who had dreams as big as mine.

I’m still hoping that someday you’ll write the score for my movie!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

1

AS LONG AS Alec Masterson kept driving down the Connecticut Turnpike, he’d pick up his client exactly on time. That meant ignoring the ancient silver Caddy listing to one side on the shoulder up ahead. Now was not the time to play Good Samaritan.

Then a frail old man climbed from behind the wheel and tottered back to the shredded rear tire. Alec groaned and glanced at the clock set into the Lincoln Town Car’s leather dash. Nope, couldn’t stop. He slowed down, though, hoping somebody else would get out of the Caddy, a teenage grandson, maybe.

If Alec was late, Molly would miss her train into New York, and she’d already told him this trip was important. She hadn’t told him why, of course. Molly liked to keep her secrets. His buddy Josh was convinced she starred in X-rated videos. Josh had a wild imagination, but his theory would explain her constant trips to L.A., and she did have an incredible body.

Alec was damn curious but he didn’t pry. He was the guy she requested whenever she called the car service, so she must like him. He liked her, too. Lusted after her, in point of fact.

Her red-gold hair seemed designed to fan out on a pillow and her green eyes flashed the kind of fire that gave guys wet dreams. Nevertheless, there was a sweetness, an almost innocent quality to her. If Josh was right about her profession, she was one hell of an actor.

If Alec had met Molly any other way than being her chauffeur, he probably would have asked her out. He had to say probably because he really shouldn’t take time for a girlfriend right now, and when it came to Molly, he couldn’t imagine stopping with one date. But he was her chauffeur, and he couldn’t risk losing his job with Red Carpet Limousine.

He’d been playing student for more than ten years, testing out premed, electrical engineering, architecture, accounting. Law school was his last-ditch attempt to find something he loved, and he was determined to finish. The chauffeur’s job was perfect—decent money and flexible hours. Plus he could study while he waited for a client.

As Alec passed the Caddy, he checked in the rearview mirror, still hoping to see some able-bodied passenger get out of the car to help the old guy. But no, a tiny, white-haired woman in a pink dress appeared and wobbled to the back of the car. She wore white shoes and carried a white pocketbook. Alec knew that women of her generation called them pocketbooks instead of purses because that was the word his granny used.

Oh, hell. He pulled to the side of the road and backed down the shoulder until he was a couple of yards in front of the Caddy. So he would be late.

MOLLY DRAKE PACED the worn oak floor while keeping an eye on the antique wall clock. Alec was never late, so why now, when this meeting with her agent could mean a new beginning for her? If she missed her eleven-thirty appointment, she wouldn’t get in to see Benjamin today. He was a busy man, and she wasn’t high enough on the food chain to think he’d squeeze her in somewhere else.

Damn it, where was Alec? She should have learned to drive when she moved to Connecticut. She’d intended to, but Dana had insisted now was not the time, when she was in an unfamiliar place. More protective than Molly’s own mother, Dana paid for the car service and told Molly to use it whenever she needed a ride. Privately Molly had planned to learn to drive, anyway, but then Red Carpet Limousine had sent her Alec. Getting a license would have meant giving up Alec, and that was totally unacceptable.

She was positive she wouldn’t have written the lust-filled novel sitting on her agent’s desk if Alec hadn’t come into her life. He’d inspired her to fantasize a grand sexual adventure in which her heroine, Krysta, explored her sensual urges in the primitive jungle setting of Brazil. Molly hadn’t ever combed her fingers through Alec’s thick brown hair, but Krysta had. Krysta had gazed into his brown eyes while she slowly unbuttoned his silk shirt and rubbed her hands over his muscular chest.

And if he didn’t show up in the next two minutes, Molly was going to wring his gorgeous neck. The appointment with Benjamin meant the end of waiting for his reaction to her book. She’d mailed it to him three months ago—three of the most agonizing months of her life. Then last week, his assistant had called to set up this meeting to talk about the book.

Molly was prepared for Benjamin to say he couldn’t get her a big advance. Big advances went to Hollywood stars like Dana Kyle, who had astounded Tinseltown by writing a series of clever mysteries. That’s what Publishers Weekly called them—clever and well plotted.

Molly devoured each review and mailed copies to her parents in L.A. They were the only people besides Benjamin who knew that Molly had ghost-written every word of those mysteries for her dear friend Dana. Dana was thrilled with the recognition, and Molly was happy for her.

But the more famous Dana became, the more she craved participation in the creative process, including face-to-face “brainstorming sessions” with Molly. Molly’s brain felt stormed, all right. Dana’s ideas were mostly terrible, and Molly had to find diplomatic ways to get out of using them. The process was exhausting, and ended with Dana’s name huge on the cover and Molly still invisible. It was time for Molly Drake to appear in print.

Missing this meeting wouldn’t be a good beginning. Maybe if Benjamin thought the manuscript was a block-buster, he might forgive her. She’d had fantasies of that kind of success, of course, but she tried not to get carried away.

Finally she gave in to her impatience, grabbed her large shoulder bag and went outside to wait on the porch. She’d save a couple of minutes if Alec didn’t have to knock on the door. She locked up, to save another minute, and sat on the porch swing Grandma Nell used to love so much.

This cottage in Old Saybrook felt more like home than the Beverly Hills mansion where she’d grown up. Even so, she hadn’t accepted her grandma’s offer of coming to live here because the one-bedroom cottage was so obviously suited for one person and crowded with two.

Maybe she should have come anyway and slept on the couch. At least then she could have spent more time with Grandma Nell before she died. That thought still brought a lump to Molly’s throat, but she could think about her grandmother without crying now. The first week she’d lived here, she’d nearly moved away because of the teary spells, but the flood had eased, and now she loved being surrounded by her grandma’s antiques, chintz and lace.

Molly nudged the porch floor with her foot and set the swing to moving while she listened for the sound of an engine. Keeping her eye on the spot in the winding road where she’d first be able to see the Town Car’s pewter hood, she hoped nothing had happened to Alec. Damn, that hadn’t occurred to her until now, and the worry made her stomach twist.

Late was one thing. An accident—well, she didn’t even want to think about that. It was a good thing the Town Car was heavy. She’d given her hero a Lincoln, but of course her hero actually owned it, whereas Alec only drove one for Red Carpet. Alec owned an old Blazer, although she’d never seen it.

She willed the Town Car to shove its elegant nose around the bend in the tree-lined road. No such luck. She stopped pumping the swing when she realized how fast she was doing it, as if swinging harder would make him show up. Dreading to see the time, she finally peeked at her watch and panicked. No way would they make it to the station, but that was the least of her worries. Alec wouldn’t be this late unless something had happened.

When the phone rang inside the house, she leaped from the swing so fast that it banged against the white clapboard siding. She fumbled in her purse for the key. Finally she located it, unlocked the door and dashed to the phone, a corded model that sat on a little stand in the hall. Her answering machine picked up right as she got there.

She shut the recorder off and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Molly, I know I’m late, but—”

“Alec! Are you all right?”

“I’m on my way. Listen, you can’t make the train now, so I’ll drive you to New York. I’ll be at your house in five minutes.”

“But you’re okay, right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He sounded puzzled. “Why would you think I wasn’t?”

“I just…was afraid you might have had an accident or something.”

“Oh.” There was a brief silence.

In the space of that silence it came to her that maybe she shouldn’t have sounded quite so concerned. She’d have to be careful or he might figure out that he was more to her than a chauffeur. And she didn’t have time for a real boyfriend. The fantasy kind was much easier to fit into her complicated life.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll be right there. ’Bye, Molly.”

“’Bye.” She disconnected the line and stood with the receiver in her hand. His tone had been different at the end, softer, more intimate. Damn it. Sure, she’d flirted with him in the past six months he’d been driving for her, and he’d flirted back. A smart chauffeur would do that to increase his tips, but Molly thought the chemistry between them was real enough. She just didn’t want it to get out of hand.

Back in L.A., most of the car services had a policy against dating clients. She knew that because once when she’d been chauffeured to a premiere of her dad’s latest movie, the driver had said he’d quit his job if she’d agree to go out with him. Maybe things were different in Connecticut, but she doubted it.

Alec couldn’t afford to quit. Besides, he probably didn’t have time for a girlfriend any more than she had time for a boyfriend. He was either working or studying. She was either ghost-writing for Dana or stealing hours for her own story.

Okay, that was settled, then. Even if Alec suspected she liked him a lot, and even if he kind of liked her, too, nothing would come of it. The timing was off for both of them.

“Molly?”

She turned to find him standing in the open doorway. She’d dashed inside to answer the phone without closing the door. He had a smudge of grease on his cheek and another one on the front of his white knit shirt with the Red Carpet logo on the breast pocket. His brown eyes held a tenderness that she hadn’t seen there before.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “This old couple had a flat tire, and I stopped to help them change it. But you’ll still get to your appointment if we leave now, because I can take you right to the door and you won’t have to mess around with a taxi at the train station.”

She didn’t have a lot of choice. “All right. I’ll take you up on that.” Whenever she saw him her tummy tickled, but this morning that look in his eyes caused the tingling to move a little lower. Good grief, he was turning her on just with a look.

“Good,” he said. “Then let’s go.”

“Right.” She put the phone back in its cradle. Her front-door key was still in her right hand, but she had no clue what she’d done with her purse. She glanced around.

“You left it by the front door.”

“Oh.” She’d been so distracted about Alec that she must have dropped the bag the minute she’d found the house key. “Then I’ll just get it and we’ll be on our way.”

“I left the car running and the air on.”

“Great.”

He stepped aside and she walked out onto the porch. Sure enough, her purse was lying beside the door, and fortunately nothing had spilled out of it. She locked the cottage door and picked up her bag by the leather strap.

Alec stood at the end of the flagstone walk holding the passenger door open for her, as he’d done countless times before. Long ago they’d dispensed with the tradition of her riding in the back seat. Today Molly wondered if that had been wise. For their own good, they needed to maintain their distance.

But she couldn’t very well change the rules now without making things awkward. “Thanks.” She slipped into the cool interior of the Town Car, tugging at her short skirt to keep it in place as she avoided his gaze.

She needed to cut way back on the flirtation factor. Deliberately showing a little leg if she happened to be wearing a short skirt or looking into his eyes as she thanked him for holding the door had become second nature. She’d laughed a little too brightly at his jokes and flashed her smile far more than necessary.

Today she could see that behavior had been a mistake. Alec was much too aware of her, and she was absolutely drooling over him. How could she resist a man who was rumpled and late because he’d helped an old couple change a flat tire?

“You’re welcome.” He swept a glance over her. “Watch your purse strap.”

She thought he’d noticed more than the strap, which dangled next to her ankle an inch or so from the door. She pulled it out of the way and he closed the door with a firm thrust.

Firm thrust, indeed. Leave it to her to make closing a car door sexual. It was a habit she might not be able to break—assigning sexual meaning to everything Alec did. That was how she’d been able to imagine him in bed, where firm thrusting would definitely be welcome.

He rounded the hood and opened the driver’s door. “How long do you plan to be in the city?”

“Not too long. Why?”

“I could park in a garage and then drive you home.” He climbed into the car and closed the door.

“You don’t need to do that.” Now he was really behaving more like a boyfriend than a chauffeur, and she was enjoying it, unfortunately.

After picking up his sunglasses from the dash and putting them on, he backed out of her small driveway and headed toward the turnpike. “Up to you, but I don’t have any other clients today and I’ll charge you the same as if you took the train home.”

“In that case, sure.” She knew he always needed money, and if taking her to New York and back would help him financially, she wouldn’t hesitate. “Do you have your books in the trunk?”

He gave her a quick grin. “Always. And I’d much rather have company on the ride back, anyway.”

If only he wouldn’t smile like that and make her tummy quiver. Until the moment when she’d begun worrying that he’d been in an accident, her emotions regarding him had been under control. But that concern seemed to have eaten away her defenses, and now every move he made created little shock waves in her system.

She groped for solid ground. “You must be getting ready for finals by now.”

“Don’t remind me.” His hands rested easily on the wheel.

“Are you falling behind?” Because she didn’t drive, she was fascinated with how casually he handled the big Town Car in heavy traffic. She’d ridden with people who made her nervous, but with Alec she felt completely safe.

He laughed. “I’m always behind, but it’s my own fault. Want some music?”

“Okay.” With her heightened awareness of him, she wasn’t sure music was a good idea, but to say she didn’t want any might call attention to a change in their relationship. She hoped by pretending there was no change she’d eventually regain control of her thoughts.

Alec reached over and pushed a button on the CD changer. Obviously he’d preloaded it with soft jazz, their agreed-upon traveling music. In the past, the jazz had filled the car with sensual overtones, but today the atmosphere oozed sex.

For the first time in the six months she’d known Alec, Molly couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, she sat with her fingers laced together and tried to talk herself out of wanting him. She didn’t have much luck.

Alec wasn’t saying anything, either, and even his silence was sexy. Because they weren’t carrying on a conversation, Molly was more aware of his breathing. She had a sudden and powerful image of what it would be like to be lying next to him after…. Her fingers tightened, and she glanced out the window, forcing herself to think of something else, anything else—the budding trees beside the turnpike, the clouds sailing briskly overhead, the flow of traffic down the black ribbon of road.

The trip was an endless exercise in self-control set to a sound track of smoky jazz, but eventually they reached the outskirts of the city, and Molly’s thoughts shifted to the appointment with Benjamin. Sexual arousal gave way to a case of nerves.

Alec lowered the volume on the CD player. “So where are we going?”

“Midtown. Near Park and Fifty-seventh.” She hesitated. Not telling him anything about their destination, now that he was driving her right to the front door of the building, seemed paranoid. “I have an eleven-thirty appointment with my agent.”

Alec nodded. He didn’t ask what kind of agent. “Lunch?”

“No, it won’t include lunch. I should be finished by twelve-thirty. If you don’t mind, maybe we can pick up something to eat on the way home.” Right now she had no interest in food, but by then she might be hungry. She hoped she’d be hungry, because that would mean the appointment had gone well.

“Sounds like a plan.” Alec’s expression remained neutral.

All the questions he wasn’t asking hung between them, and she was beginning to feel silly for being so secretive. She couldn’t talk about the ghostwriting, but this appointment wasn’t connected to that. And after all, he was driving her to Benjamin’s office and picking her up again.

Still, no one knew about this project except Benjamin, and she was afraid to talk about it and risk jinxing herself. On the way back to Old Saybrook, though, she’d have a tough time staying silent, especially if Benjamin raved about her writing.

She settled on a compromise. “I’ll tell you what this is all about on the way home, okay?”

He glanced at her as if taken aback. “You will? Why?”

“Because I doubt if I’ll be able to keep it to myself.”

“Then if you’d ridden the train, you would have collared the nearest passenger and blabbed to them?”

Her laugh released some of her nervous energy. “Probably.”

“Then I guess I should feel lucky that we missed the train.” He sounded irritated.

Whoops. “Look, Alec, I realize I haven’t revealed much about myself in the time we’ve known each other, but—”

“You’re not required to reveal anything about yourself, Molly. I apologize for taking that tone. I’m your chauffeur, and what you choose to tell me or not tell me is entirely up to you.”

“Now you’re upset.”

He sighed. “Only with myself. I’ve known from the beginning that you weren’t chatty. And I am.”

“Not today.”

“Well, I got to thinking that I’ve probably been boring you. I’ll bet you didn’t want to hear—”

“I’ve loved hearing all about your family,” she said softly.

“You’re being polite.”

“No, I’m serious. I don’t have any good stories like that.” His normal childhood and his adventures with his younger sister made her green with envy.

“Oh, God. Please don’t tell me you’re an orphan.”

“No. But my upbringing was…different.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s better if I don’t.” She’d discovered a long time ago that nothing good came of telling people her dad was Owen Drake, one of Hollywood’s top directors, and her mother was Cybil O’Connor. If fans remembered Cybil O’Connor at all, it was for a spectacular nude scene in The Haunted Lagoon, a movie released twenty-eight years ago. After that, she’d given up acting to become Mrs. Owen Drake and mother to Molly Drake. Molly had always felt the weight of that sacrifice.

She’d also learned that mentioning her parents usually brought out intense curiosity, and people tended to forget their manners in the quest for insider dirt. Maybe Alec wouldn’t pump her for information about big stars, or mention her mother’s infamous nude scene. Knowing Alec, he really wouldn’t react that way. Still, Molly liked being anonymous for a change, and moving from L.A. to Connecticut had allowed her to separate herself from that high-pressure, glitzy world.

Alec cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t do this, but I have one question about you, and it’s killing me.”

She braced herself. “Only one?”

“Okay, more than one, but this certain one—let’s just say my buddy Josh got me to thinking, and I can’t get the question out of my head.”

“Is Josh the driver I met when you gave him a ride?”

“Yeah, when his limo broke down outside New Haven.”

Molly remembered a wiry guy with curly black hair. Josh always seemed to be in motion. “A high-energy type.”

“That’s the one. Anyway, you don’t have to answer, but if you could say yes or no, it would mean a lot to me.”

“You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night.”

Alec coughed. Then he coughed again, and the tips of his ears grew pink. “Uh, no, not really.”

She couldn’t make sense of his reaction until she replayed what she’d said. You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night. When she realized the potential double meaning, heat rushed to her face, too. “Wait a minute. I wasn’t trying to be—”

“Are you in the movies?”

Startled, she laughed. She was so not in the movies. Her parents had wanted that more than anything, and she’d tried. But an introverted little bookworm, no matter what she looked like on the outside, couldn’t expect to make it on the big screen, even with a stage-door mommy and a stage-door daddy.

“Are you?”

She smiled at him. This conversation was helping her case of nerves. “Well, you caught me. I’m not Molly Drake at all. I’m really Nicole Kidman trying to escape the paparazzi.”

“Um, I didn’t mean that kind of movie.”

“Then what—” Her mouth dropped open. Alec was asking her if she acted in adult videos.

“But I’ll bet Josh has it all wrong.”

At first she was insulted that Alec would think it was remotely possible that she was a porn star. He should know her better than that. Or should he? She hadn’t talked about herself, which left room for all kinds of speculation. Apparently Josh and Alec thought she looked sexy enough to act in those videos, which intrigued her. “You said I didn’t have to answer, right?”

“Of course you don’t have to answer, but—”

“So I’m not going to.” Then she watched the pink that had tinged his ears make its way over his entire face. Darting a glance into his lap, she discovered that the image of her as an X-rated video star was having quite an effect on him there, too.

His voice sounded strangled. “So you are.”

“I didn’t say that.” This was fascinating, and it definitely kept her mind off her anxiety-producing appointment with Benjamin.

“Yeah, but not answering is the same as answering.”

“Not necessarily.” She wondered what he’d do if she put a hand on his thigh, but she didn’t want them to have an accident.

“Now I wish I hadn’t asked.” He swallowed. “I thought you’d say no.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Oh, so you really aren’t, but you want me to think you are?”

Highly entertained, she continued to smile at him. “What do you think?”

He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead. “I think I just got myself into a heap of trouble.”

2

ALEC NEEDED A COLD SHOWER, but that wasn’t possible, so he casually adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it blew directly on his lap. He’d been worried that the X-rated video question would insult Molly, but at least then he’d have had his answer. She wasn’t insulted. She was taking the Fifth.

Even if he hadn’t studied law, he’d still know that anybody who refused to answer was most likely hiding something. So she really could be a star of those movies. He wasn’t proud of his reaction to the news, either. Damned if he wasn’t rising to the occasion.

She could also be teasing him. That concept didn’t improve his condition at all. A woman willing to kid around about something like that would be the kind of bed partner he’d always dreamed of, someone who liked to have fun with sex instead of making it into a serious business. She was either an X-rated movie star or a sexy little tease. Both possibilities had him so turned on he could barely drive the car.

But that’s what she was paying him to do, and he’d better stop fantasizing about her naked body or they’d find themselves in a ten-car pileup in Midtown. He glanced over at her, trying to decide if she was kidding him or not.

She just smiled, as if watching him squirm was giving her great pleasure. She certainly didn’t dress as if she made that kind of movie. Sure, her skirt was on the short side, but it belonged to a black silk suit that looked more Glamour than Playboy. His sister subscribed to Glamour, and she’d be very impressed with the outfit Molly was wearing.

Then again, an X-rated star wouldn’t necessarily dress the part when she wasn’t in front of the camera. Molly’s outfit didn’t tell him much except that she had good taste in clothes. Damn, he didn’t know what to think. And with a large portion of his blood draining south, he didn’t have much left to power his brain, anyway.

Somehow he managed to follow Molly’s directions and get her to the right address. He even remembered to give her his cell-phone number so that she could call him when she was finished. Then, like an idiot, he sat and watched her go into the building. If he hadn’t been startled out of his trance by blaring horns and New York–style swearing, he might have stayed right there until she showed up again.

Humbled by what a complete moron he’d turned into, he drove to the nearest parking garage, found a space and leaned back against the headrest with a sigh. He never should have asked her. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, she’d made herself more mysterious and fascinating than ever. His overheated brain buzzed with thoughts of Molly, sex kitten. Something told him he wouldn’t get much studying done in the next hour.

MOLLY SAT in the red leather chair in Benjamin’s office. Her manuscript, bound by a thin rubber band, lay on the desk between them. Benjamin gazed at her from behind his thick glasses. His gray hair was carefully combed. He wasn’t smiling.

Looking at him, Molly decided she didn’t want to talk about the manuscript. She might not ever want to talk about the manuscript. “It really feels like spring out there,” she said. “I didn’t even need a coat. Is it usually this warm in April?”

“Not usually. Listen, I’ve read your manuscript, and I—”

“I’ve never spent a whole summer in this area. I’m looking forward to walking on the beach, buying produce from roadside stands, getting a—”

“Molly, I’m sorry.”

She felt as if someone had shoveled ice cubes into her stomach. “The book, um, needs work?” She cleared her throat. “That’s okay. I can—”

“I wish I could believe that you can fix it.”

She stared at him. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a professional writer, so tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.” Maybe this was a nightmare and she’d wake up. She pinched her arm, but nothing changed. She was still sitting in a chair across from a very sad-looking, gray-haired agent who didn’t like her book.

“I assume that you want this to be a hot read about a woman exploring her sexual fantasies.”

“Well, that’s sort of what I was going for.” And Benjamin didn’t think she’d pulled it off. She swallowed. Life didn’t get much more hideous than this, having a middle-aged man tell you that when it came to sex, you just didn’t get it. Benjamin’s blue eyes looked huge and filled with sympathy. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted the New York Times bestseller list with Molly Drake in the top ten.

“It’s not sexy,” he said, putting an unnecessary point on what had been, up to now, merely hinted at.

She winced. But hey, what did Benjamin know, anyway? He’d been married since Nixon was president. He probably couldn’t remember what sex was like!

Benjamin folded his hands and leaned toward her. “I don’t think writing about sex is your strong point. The cozy mysteries you’ve been writing for Dana—that’s where you need to put your energy. They don’t require any sex.”

“I’m sick of writing cozy mysteries!”

“Then maybe you need a break. You’ve been turning out those books for Dana faster than you should. I can have that August deadline moved, if you want me to. Dana’s established, now, so you can—”

“That’s exactly it.” Molly hadn’t realized how much this manuscript meant to her until now, when Benjamin seemed ready to dump it in his stylish trash can. “Dana’s established. I’m not. I’m grateful for her, grateful for the money, but I want to publish something under my own name.”

Benjamin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re in a catch-22, then, because it can’t be anything similar to what you’re writing for her. There’s that non-compete clause in the contract.”

Molly gestured toward the manuscript on his desk. “That’s not similar.”

“No. But if you’d hoped to leap to another genre, I’m afraid you didn’t quite succeed.”

Her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She wanted to believe that Benjamin didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had some clients who wrote hot books. Obviously he didn’t think she fit in with those authors. Later on she’d probably cry about this, but right now she was too busy fighting for her creative life to cry. “I’ll rewrite the love scenes.”

“I don’t know if that will work.”

“Of course it will. I thought they were sexy enough, but apparently I was wrong. I’ll do something about that.”

He gazed at her for several long seconds. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll probably say it wrong, but the manuscript reads as if the author doesn’t have much experience with the concept of sexual adventure.”

She sat in stunned silence.

“That’s why I doubt you can fix it,” he added gently. “Again, my advice is to stick with the cozy mysteries. Let’s face it, Molly, you’re a cautious person, a basically introverted person, which many writers are. This kind of book just isn’t you. Cozy mysteries fit you perfectly.”

Molly’s ears rang as blood rushed to her head. This was unacceptable. This was totally unacceptable. How ironic that Alec half believed that she was an X-rated video star and Benjamin saw her as introverted and sexually timid. She wasn’t sexually timid! She just…okay, maybe she was a wee bit cautious when it came to sex, but she was far from a virgin.

She hadn’t had much experience because she hadn’t relished having her sexual exploits splashed all over the tabloids. As a result, she might have reined herself in too much. But under the right circumstances, she was certainly capable of throwing caution to the winds and grabbing life by the cojones. If that would inspire better sex scenes, she’d do it.

“Of course, I’ll send it out if you insist,” Benjamin said. “You have the final say-so.”

“No.” Molly stood and plucked the manuscript from his desk. The rubber band broke, and she had to grab the stack of pages with both hands to keep them from scattering all over Benjamin’s tidy office. “I’ll take what you said under advisement.”

Benjamin stood, too. “Molly, do you know how many writers would kill to be in your shoes? Not very many people make a living at writing, you know.”

“I do know.” She stuffed the manuscript into her shoulder bag. Once she got it home she’d treat it more carefully, like the wounded child it was, but for now she wanted to make her exit. “I’m grateful for the chance Dana’s given me. But I will publish something under my own name.”

“I’m sure you will.” Benjamin was old enough to be her father and unfortunately he was beginning to sound uncomfortably like a father. “You just need to find the right vehicle.”

“I just need to find more sex!” The moment the words came out, Molly blushed. But it was true. And she needed to work on controlling that blush if she intended to reinvent herself.

Benjamin looked uncomfortable. “Wait a minute, Molly. Don’t think for a minute that I’m advocating that you—”

“I don’t think that.”

He continued to eye her uneasily. “People can’t change their basic personality, and if they try, they can get into big trouble.”

“Absolutely.” Except her personality wasn’t quite as basic as Benjamin thought. Maybe she needed more knowledge, but she’d loved putting together that book, amateurish as it might have turned out to be. She was a sexual diamond in the rough. And she had some ideas as to how to acquire that all-important polish.

He smiled in obvious relief. “I’m glad you’re not planning to do anything rash. It’s a dangerous world out there, and you have to be careful.”

“Exactly.” She wondered if Benjamin had a clue what it was like “out there,” but he was trying to protect her, which was sweet. Considering that she wasn’t a big-deal client, only the ghostwriter for a big-deal client, she should probably be flattered that he cared about her well-being.

“Well, then.” Benjamin clasped his hands together. “Would you like me to have that August deadline changed so you can have a breather?”

“No, that’s okay.” Molly didn’t want Dana to get an inkling that her ghostwriter was dissatisfied with the status quo. When Molly was a teenager and had wanted to ditch the acting gig in order to write, Dana had taken her side against her mom and dad. Molly intended to treat Dana right.

“So you’re okay, then?” He looked as if he needed reassurance.

“I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Thank you for reading the manuscript.”

“Parts of it were excellent.”

“Thank you.” She resisted the urge to ask him which parts. Whether or not she could write wasn’t the issue. The question was whether or not she could write about raw, uninhibited sex.

They shook hands and said their goodbyes. As Molly made her way out of his office, she dug through her purse for the business card with Alec’s cell phone number on it. Thanks to a buddy with a wild imagination, Alec thought she might be a woman who acted out sex scenes in front of a camera. That obviously turned him on. She was about to trade shamelessly on that piece of misinformation.

ALEC WAS AMAZED when Molly called him before twelve-thirty. If he’d had an hour-long appointment with her, he’d have used the entire sixty minutes. For some reason her agent had let her get away early. Must be a woman.

Traffic was dense, but traffic was always dense in New York. Other than wanting to pick up Molly ASAP, Alec didn’t mind fighting traffic. Actually, he enjoyed the challenge. In the city he pictured himself as Luke Skywalker shooting through the Death Star maze. On the turnpike he pretended to drive the Indy 500, but he had to watch out for that fantasy. Too many speeding tickets and he’d be out of a job.

Molly was standing on the sidewalk where he’d left her, and she didn’t look very happy. She’d promised to tell him about this meeting, though, so he’d find out what or who had put that expression on her face. He didn’t like seeing Molly unhappy and took an instant dislike to her agent, who probably was responsible for making her sad.

He doubled-parked and got out to open the door for her, but she was inside before he made it all the way around the car. Molly was like that, not the least interested in being treated like a diva. She didn’t know that he loved opening doors for her.

“Let’s have lunch at a hotel,” she said the minute he got behind the wheel.

“Which one?”

“Any one. The closest one. My treat. Use valet parking. I’m really hungry.”

“Okay.” He doubted this was a celebration, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. If she wanted a nice meal in a hotel restaurant, he’d make sure she got it. He wished he could offer to buy her lunch, but at New York prices, lunch could suck up a good portion of his rent money. He’d never minded being poor until this moment.

He drove around the block and pulled into the valet parking area of the first high-rise hotel he came to, not even bothering to notice if it was a Hilton, Sheraton or something else entirely.

“Perfect.” She was helped out of the car by the doorman while Alec gave the keys to the parking attendant.

As Alec walked over to join her, he remembered he was dressed in his car service logo shirt, which was smudged. “Maybe you should go in without me,” he said. “I’m not wearing the right clothes.”

She glanced at him. “You’re fine, but if you’re worried about it, we can go to the hotel coffee shop instead of the dining room.”

He followed her through the revolving doors. “It depends on what you want to eat.”

“I’d rather be in the coffee shop with you than by myself in the dining room. Let’s get a sandwich.”

He was a little confused by her strange mood, but he decided to play along. “Okay.” As they walked through the lobby on their way to the coffee shop, he caught a glimpse of the two of them in a large wall mirror. With her dressed in elegant city clothes and him in his chauffeur’s outfit, he sure did look like her boy toy.

He wondered if she had boy toys. In the six months he’d known her, he hadn’t seen evidence that she dated anyone. That didn’t mean much, though. Logically she wouldn’t need a chauffeur when a guy was around, so he wouldn’t have reason to cross paths with her dates.

The hostess showed them to a table, and Alec held Molly’s chair for her.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you, for offering to buy my lunch.” He sat down, picked up the menu and glanced at the prices. The place was fancy for a coffee shop, but there were a few meals in his price range. “You know, I could pay for my own. That makes more sense.”

“Let’s not worry about it now.” She made quick work of studying the menu and was ready for the waiter when he came to fill their water glasses.

While she ordered a grilled-chicken salad, Alec quickly decided on a Reuben. Once the waiter left, Alec leaned forward. “You said you’d tell me about your meeting with your agent.”

“I will, but not right this minute.” Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. The sad expression had disappeared.

“I take it she didn’t give you good news.”

“It’s he, and no, he didn’t. But I don’t intend to let that spoil our meal. So you like Reuben sandwiches?”

“Sure do.”

“So do I, but I felt like having something a little lighter. Maybe you’ll let me have a bite of yours.”

This was feeling more and more like a date. “Uh, sure.”

“There’s something about that tangy combo of sauerkraut and corned beef, isn’t there?”

“I’ve always liked it.”

“And if they bring it immediately after they fix it, and it’s still warm, with the cheese melted…mmm, yummy.”

“Uh-huh.” He had the definite impression this discussion was about something besides food. His groin was registering sexual overtones. Major sexual overtones. Molly had flirted with him before, but it had been more on the order of Sex Lite, not really intended to go anywhere. This time she seemed to have a definite destination in mind, and he was getting hotter by the second.

“Alec?”

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“I’ll bet Red Carpet has a policy against dating clients.”

His heart started beating faster. “It does. But if you’re worried about this lunch, I don’t think that counts. I mean, you have to eat.” He’d pretend to misunderstand where the conversation was leading, to see if she was serious or messing with his head.

“I wasn’t really worried about this lunch. We’re in New York, not Old Saybrook. No one will see us having lunch, whether your company would frown on it or not.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“So, let’s say you decided to take a chance, decided for a little while to ignore your company’s policy. Let’s say your client promised never to say anything to anyone.” She paused to gaze at him.

If he hadn’t noticed the slight tremor of her hand as she reached for her water glass, he would have thought she was cool as can be. He wasn’t, though. He was breaking out in a sweat. “Okay, let’s say that.”

She sloshed a little water over the rim of the glass as she set it unsteadily back on the tablecloth. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then she looked straight at him. “I don’t want you to lose your job on account of me.”

“You let me worry about that.” He no longer gave a damn about the job. Five minutes ago he’d thought it was very important, but five minutes ago Molly hadn’t been across the table, color high, hinting that she wanted something more from him than chauffeur service.

“It’s just that I find you very attractive,” she said.

“Ditto.” That was suave. He tried again. “I find you very attractive, too.”

“But there are so many problems.”

“I know.” He couldn’t think of a single one, but he knew they were out there, temporarily obliterated by a firestorm of lust.

“I don’t really have time for dating.” She gripped the slick water glass in both hands and brought it to her mouth for a single swallow.

So she hadn’t been going out, after all. Nice to know. “Why not?”

“I’m trying to move ahead in my career.”

Making X-rated movies? But he didn’t ask. “I don’t really have time to date, either.” He said it automatically, but now he realized that he’d make the time—for her.

“That’s what I thought. And then there’s the situation with me being a client for the car service.”

“True.” And maybe he’d been crazy to let that stand in his way for six months. Was he a man or a wuss?

She turned the water glass around and around in her hands while she stared at the ice bobbing inside. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it.”

“So have I.” Which answered the question of whether he was a man or a wuss. He’d thought about her during the day, dreamed about her at night, and hadn’t made a single move. Pathetic.

But most of their time together had been side by side, riding in the Town Car. This was the longest he’d ever sat across from her, able to really look at her. She was a treat, all red-gold curls and creamy skin.

He’d never noticed her hands before, but he noticed them now as she continued to fondle her water glass. She kept her nails short and free of polish. Movie stars, any kind of movie star, had long nails. But she could put on the fake ones during shooting. He was fascinated by the way she was stroking that dripping glass. Then she clutched it in two hands again and took another sip. God, he was getting hard.

She took a long, shaky breath. “Okay, so we’re both interested.”

“Definitely.”

“And fate has caused us to end up in the city together today.”

“Yes.” Fate in the form of George and Alma Federman, whose flat tire had made him late. They’d insisted on inviting him over for dinner some night this week, but he should be the one taking them out, from the look of things.

“So, um, I was thinking…”

His heart thudded like a pile driver. “Yes?”

“Well, considering everything—” She stopped and glanced up as the waiter appeared with their food.

Alec wasn’t hungry anymore. He wanted her to keep talking. The waiter seemed to take forever setting down the plates, asking if they needed anything, getting ketchup for the fries that had come with his Reuben.

Finally they were alone again. “You were saying?” Alec prompted.

“I think we should eat.” She picked up her fork, but her hand was still trembling.

“Is this the date? Lunch?”

“Eat your Reuben.”

“I mean, we could take a walk through Central Park, or something like that.” Then he worried that he sounded cheap. Unfortunately he didn’t have much cash on him, and his credit card didn’t have a whole lot of room on it, either.

“Before we decide what we’re going to do, we should eat our food.” She speared some chicken and lettuce with her fork.

“Okay.” He dutifully took a bite of his Reuben. He’d never realized before how juicy a Reuben was. It dripped on his fingers and he ended up licking them. Then he glanced up and found her watching him, her lips parted, her breathing uneven.

“Is it good?” she asked.

“Yes.” Oh, man, she was delectable. “Want some?”

She nodded.

He held out the sandwich, putting his other hand underneath to catch the drips. When she leaned over to take a bite, her lips brushed his fingers. Just in time he stifled a groan.

She chewed and swallowed. “It is good.”

“You can have the rest.” You can have anything you want. He picked up his plate to give it to her.

“No. No, thank you. I have my salad.” She started eating it again as if someone had told her she couldn’t have dessert unless she cleaned her plate.

Alec decided he might as well follow her lead, so he polished off half the sandwich. But as he was tackling the other half, he decided to get this money situation out in the open. “I like your idea of spending time together here in New York today, and I wish I could afford to take you somewhere nice, maybe even to a matinee on Broadway, but I don’t have much—”

“Alec, I’ll cover the cost of whatever we do.”

“That doesn’t feel right. I know it’s a new century, but I want to at least pay my own way.”

“When do you have to have the car back?”

“Sometime tonight. Edgars doesn’t need it until tomorrow, and I have access to the parking lot, so there’s no deadline or anything. We can hang around the city as long as you want.”

She hadn’t finished her salad, but she pushed her plate away. “I don’t want to hang around the city.”

“But you said—”

“I want…” She paused and lowered her voice. “I want to get a room.”

Alec almost came in his pants.

3

MOLLY’S FACE FELT HOT, but she’d said the words. Not elegantly, not seductively, but clearly.

Alec’s brown eyes turned almost black. “You’re propositioning me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes.” She gripped the edge of the table as she waited for his answer.

“I’d be a fool to turn down an offer like that. But if you’re thinking of this hotel, then I’m afraid the cost is beyond my—”

“I’ll pay for the room.”

“No.”

“Listen to me.” She reached over and grabbed his hand. Now that she’d started down this road, she wasn’t turning back. She’d never grabbed a man’s hand before in her life, but from the way Alec gripped her fingers, it was the right move. “Taking a room here is the perfect solution. No one ever has to know about it.”

He captured her hand between both of his. “I’ll feel like a gigolo, Molly. Believe me, I love that you asked, but it’s like you’d be paying me for sex.”

“I would not!” She was thrilled with the masterful way he’d taken over the hand-holding business, but she didn’t want his ego to get in the way of what she had in mind. “I’m only paying for the room so we can be alone together.”

“Same thing.”

She had to admit that if she paid, the balance of power was in her favor. For a—what had Benjamin called her? A cautious introvert?—assuming that power was a huge step. She needed to do it in order to lay claim to the sexual adventurer buried deep in her soul.

But first she had to convince Alec to stop being so macho. She thought of how she’d handle him if he were a character in one of her books. In order to get him to change his mind, she’d have to introduce new information. It worked in fiction.

“I need to let you know something,” she said.

“Shoot.” His tone was casual, but a pulse was beating rapidly in his throat.

“Josh is wrong. I’m not an X-rated video star. I’m not in the movies at all.”

He gripped her hand tighter. “You sure look like you could be.”

“Thank you. But looks can be deceiving. I’m almost the opposite of that.”

He drew in a quick breath. “A virgin?”

“No.” Was that a gasp of excitement or anxiety? “Would that matter to you?”

“Molly, that kind of thing always matters. But to be honest, if you’d gone all this time without having sex, I’d be a little worried about you.”

“Well, I’m not going to pretend I’ve had tons of experience, either.”

The lines of determination softened, and he smiled. “That’s okay.”

“I’m not normally this bold.”

His grip on her hand loosened enough for him to stroke her palm with his thumb. “That’s what I thought, but Josh gets an idea in his head and he can be very convincing.”

His touch was subtle, but erotic all the same. She’d chosen quickly, but she’d chosen well. Alec would definitely expand her sexual horizons. Her heart thumped crazily as she imagined what the afternoon might bring. “The thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever reached my…my full potential, sexually speaking. But I’m hoping that if the setting is right, and the man is right, I can learn to let go.”

He swallowed, his gaze welded to hers.

She forged on. “The setting I’ve always imagined is a luxurious hotel room, an escape from the world where it won’t matter who we are.”

“Like this place.” His voice rasped with tension.

“Exactly like this. Alec, I’ve been dreaming about you for months. Spending a few stolen hours in a room in this hotel with a man like you would be a fantasy come true.”

He took a shaky breath. “That’s a lot of pressure. What if I disappoint you?”

“I’m more worried that I’ll disappoint you.”

“Not possible.”

“Sure it is.” She faced her worst fear. “Maybe I’m wrong about myself. Maybe I won’t be able to let go and be wild and crazy.”

“Have you ever…um…had an—”

“Yes. Everything works.” And each time, she’d been left with the feeling that it should be easier, better, more world-shattering. “But I’ve never been…well, turned inside out.”

He blew out a puff of air. “Now I’m intimidated. No way am I going to sit here and promise you that I’ll be able to do that.”

“I’m not asking you to.” She quivered with anticipation. “I’m only asking you to try.”

AS ALEC LOOKED into Molly’s eyes, he reminded himself to breathe. What a rush, knowing she wanted him so much, but the prospect was scary as hell, the possibility of failure huge.

He’d always wanted to sky-dive, but hadn’t had the money or the opportunity. Or maybe he’d used the money problem as an excuse because he’d been too damn scared and couldn’t admit that, even to himself. He imagined his first jump would feel something like this—adrenaline pumping, fear mixed in with wild anticipation and the knowledge that he’d never forgive himself if he chickened out and didn’t jump.

He still didn’t like the financial arrangements surrounding this episode, but he understood why she’d want the fancy, anonymous hotel room. She planned to pretend she was someone else for a few hours in hopes she’d lose her inhibitions. He was the lucky guy who’d been asked to assist in that.

That put a lot of pressure on his ability to perform, but he’d have to get over that. Somehow. He was glad she wasn’t an X-rated video star. Knowing that she was an unfulfilled woman looking for a peak experience was less scary than thinking she created images of sexual ecstasy for a living. Molly was asking him to help her, and he’d always been a sucker for a person in need of help.

Yeah, right. He was a noble person, all right, devoting his time to her cause. Not. But he was surprised at how much courage it took to agree to her plan. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’m willing to try.”

Her cheeks got all rosy and her smile trembled at the corners. “Good.”

“On the condition you let me buy lunch.” He’d use his credit card, much as he hated to keep adding to the amount he couldn’t seem to pay off. Maybe he could pull some double shifts later this month for extra cash.

“That’s silly.”

“Not to me.” He would also repay her for the cost of the hotel room. If that meant dipping into the stash he was accumulating toward next year’s tuition, so be it.

“All right. While you’re paying for lunch, I’ll go back to the lobby and book the room.”

He nodded and released her hand. “That works.” He’d rather not be there when she plopped down her gold card for the room, anyway. “Then you’ll come back here?”

“Yes, but only to drop off the key folder for you. Then I’ll go on up to the room alone, and you can follow later.”

His insecurities hit him again. “Because of the way I’m dressed?”

“Oh, no. I love the way you’re dressed. But somebody has to buy condoms.”

“Oh.” He felt the blush coming and hated it. “Well, I knew that.” He’d forgotten totally, and he was a man who never forgot that particular item. He wondered if he could have ended up poised on the brink of paradise only to discover he was condomless. Could be. His brain wasn’t working very well at the moment.

“Then I’ll be back in a little bit.” She picked up her purse and left the coffee shop.

He was facing away from the exit, so he couldn’t watch her leave. Instead, he had to sit there, sip his water and hope he looked relaxed and casual, as if he took part in scenes like this all the time. Because he didn’t, he’d better start with a little advance planning.

First of all, he’d buy her a single rose. Nice touch. When he walked into the room, he’d approach her slowly and present the rose. He’d look deeply into her eyes, and then he’d kiss her. The kiss should last a long time. If he intended to drive her wild, he should draw out the process.

Yeah, the key was to keep it slow and build the tension gradually. He could do that. Then he suddenly realized that he needed to get the waiter over to the table with the check. He caught the guy’s attention and motioned to him.

The waiter hurried over. “Everything okay, sir?”

“Everything’s fine.” Everything’s incredible, except that I’ve been propositioned by an amazing woman and I’m scared to death that I won’t live up to her expectations. “I’d like the check, please.”

“Certainly.”

While the man was gone, Alec took out his wallet and counted the bills to make sure he had enough cash for the condoms and the single red rose.

“Here you are, sir.” The waiter left a leather folder beside Alec’s plate. “Would you like me to box any of that for you?”

Alec hated to see the food go to waste, but he couldn’t picture himself arriving at the door of Molly’s room with a red rose and a doggie bag. “No, thanks.” He stuck his credit card in the leather folder and handed it to the waiter. “Where’s the florist shop?”

“Right off the main lobby and to your left.”

Alec’s plans were shaping up. After a very long kiss, he’d take the rose, lay it…somewhere, and begin to undress her. Maybe she’d take off her clothes and climb into bed before he arrived. That might make his slow seduction a little tougher. But ripping off his clothes and jumping into bed with her lacked class.

God, he hoped he didn’t make a complete fool of himself. For one thing, he hadn’t had sex in several months. Even that had been a short-term event, because Sharon hadn’t appreciated working around his demanding schedule. The chemistry hadn’t been great, so he’d let her slip away without an argument.

But the chemistry with Molly was off the charts. Considering how much he wanted her and how celibate he’d been recently, he could have a problem with control. He hoped not. Control was another key ingredient if he planned to do as she’d asked and turn her inside out. Yep, control was essential, and—he jumped when he heard her voice just over his shoulder.

“I have the key,” she said softly. Then she moved into his field of vision and stood hesitantly beside the table.

He pushed back his chair and stood. “What next?”

“I don’t want to make a production of giving it to you.”

“Then wait until we leave the coffee shop.” He gestured toward the food. “Do you want to take any of this?”

She glanced at their plates. “You know, we should probably get a doggie bag. We might be hungry…after.”

Lust surged through him, leaving him trembling. Doggie bags. Doggie style. They would eat the rest of this food while they were naked. Omigod. Easy does it, sport. Slow down. Control. It’s all about being slow and in control.

When the waiter came back with the credit card slip, Alec said they’d changed their minds and wanted the food boxed. The waiter whisked the plates away while Alec stared at the slip of paper and tried to remember his name.

“It’s too expensive,” Molly said. “Let me pay for it.”

“It’s not too expensive. I was deciding how much of a tip to leave.”

She rummaged in her purse. “I’ll leave the tip.”

He caught her wrist. “No, you won’t. Let me salvage a little of my male pride.”

Her glance was soft with understanding. “I really don’t mean to insult you. It’s only that this is my idea, so I think I should—”

“I’ve had this idea ever since the day I met you.”

Her eyes widened. “You have?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“I thought you were being nice so you’d get better tips.”

“I would have driven you around for free.” He took the plastic bag containing their food from the outstretched hand of the waiter. “Thanks.” Then he turned back to Molly. “Speaking of that, what happens after today? I don’t see how I can continue to be your driver, do you?” Unless we end every trip in the back seat, naked.

She looked startled. “I…I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Maybe you should.” Maybe he should. Although he was ready to trade one afternoon of making love to Molly for future months of driving her around, he would really miss her. Yet he couldn’t imagine how they could go back to being strictly client and chauffeur. But if they kept fooling around on the side, his boss would find out, and all hell would break loose.

When she stood there looking confused and not saying anything, he took her arm and guided her out of the coffee shop. “Maybe we need to sit in the lobby and talk about this. It’s not too late to back out.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve asked you to have sex with me. We couldn’t possibly pretend I’d never done that.”

“We’d have a much better chance of pretending if we don’t go upstairs. But going upstairs is pretty much going to blow the lid off any chance of maintaining the status quo.”

She turned, looking adorably troubled as she faced him. “Do you want to back out?”

“I—”

“Sir!”

Alec turned as the waiter rushed out, heading their way. The bottom dropped out of Alec’s stomach as he imagined that his credit card had been rejected for being over the limit. He’d thought he had room, but maybe not.

“You forgot your card,” the waiter said.

That was only marginally better. He was solvent, but he’d managed to look like a moron in front of a woman he wanted to impress with his coolness. “Thank you.” He took the card and shoved it into his pants pocket. No, he wasn’t rattled. Not him. Not much.

“I’m glad they discovered it now,” Molly said after the waiter left.

“I can’t believe I left it there. You must think I’m—”

“I think you’re nervous. Like me.”

He looked into her eyes and thought that he hadn’t done that nearly enough in the past six months. If they went through with this, he might have a few more hours of that privilege, and then he’d probably have to give her up. “Could be. This is a big step we’re contemplating.”

“Do you want to reconsider?”

“Molly, I want it all. I want this afternoon, and I want to keep being your driver.” And your lover.

She nodded, making her red-gold curls bounce. “Me, too. That’s what I want.”

“But it’s not realistic.” In that moment he knew his choice. Reckless urges rolled through him. Right here in the middle of the lobby he was tempted to bury his fingers in her hair and pull her close so he could kiss those full lips. “You’re the one in charge. You need to choose.” Choose this. Choose making love until we can’t see straight. Let tomorrow take care of itself.

Her gaze searched his. “Then I choose this afternoon.”

His pulse leaped. “You’re sure?”

“I want to find out who I become when…when you hold me.”

His brain stalled, immobilized by that seductive image. “Oh, Molly.”

“I’m going up now.” She tucked the key folder inside the plastic bag of food. “I’ll see you soon.”

SHE’D STARTED OUT wanting to have an afternoon of wild sex with Alec so she could begin to improve her writing. Somewhere along the way her motivation had changed to something else. Now she wanted this not only for her writing, but for herself.

Although she’d never been part of the anything-goes crowd in Hollywood, she’d secretly envied those free spirits. Here was her chance to cut loose without the danger of the paparazzi showing up. She deserved to know what she was capable of sexually, and she believed Alec was the man who could show her.

That didn’t mean she was filled with confidence as she rode the elevator to the ninth floor and located the room down a carpeted hallway. Growing up in an uninhibited atmosphere, she’d protected her sensitive soul by wearing her own inhibitions like a suit of armor. The thought of shedding it scared her to death.

She’d also spent a lifetime, except for her visits to Connecticut, being recognized as the daughter of a celebrity. That feeling was hard to shake, and she imagined that anyone seeing her would know immediately what she planned to do with her afternoon. Thankfully she passed no one on the way.

She’d never checked into a hotel for one night without a bit of luggage, either. At the desk she’d made up a story of suitcases lost by the airline, but she didn’t think the clerk had believed her. Her stuttering over the explanation hadn’t helped.

Well, here she was, key card in hand, standing in front of the door to a whole new world. She had the urge to run the other way. But then she would miss this perfect opportunity to become the woman who’d peeked out from the pages of her manuscript, a woman who wanted more than mediocre sex.

If she didn’t follow through with her plan, she might be doomed to write cozy mysteries for Dana Kyle forever. Worse yet, she’d have blown her chance to discover, after countless hours of imagining, what the flesh-and-blood Alec was like in bed. She might never find another man who fueled her fantasies the way he did. He’d inspired her to write an entire book without laying a hand on her. Once they’d made love, she might never stop typing.

Straightening her spine, she slid the key card into the slot, waited for the blinking green light and opened the door. The room was furnished in dark woods and pseudo-antiques. A four-poster bed held a luxury mattress and box springs that elevated the top edge to about…crotch height. Of course she’d think of that. Pulse racing, she closed the door and automatically flipped the privacy latch into place. Then she remembered that Alec had to be able to get in and switched it back.

Her stomach did a few flips as she realized he could be here any minute, and the room looked far too prissy to be the scene of a wild seduction. Walking quickly over to the high bed, she tossed back the covers. Better. Then she pulled the drapes and turned on one lamp in the corner, across the room from the bed. There would be light, but not a glare.

Kicking off her shoes, she pulled up her skirt and shoved down her panty hose. Absolutely nothing was less sexy than panty hose. They didn’t look sexy going on or off, so she shoved them into her purse, not wanting to spoil the mood by tugging them back on later.

God, she was trembling like a leaf. Deep breaths. She paused and dragged in air until she started getting light-headed. Okay, that wasn’t working.

Think, Molly. Think. What else should she do to get ready? Take off everything and get into bed? No, she wanted to find out if Alec knew how to undress a woman. Her fantasy included a man who could navigate buttons and zippers with finesse, while making it perfectly clear that he’d rather tear her clothes off.

However, she had a competing fantasy in which a man wallowed in his baser instincts and sent buttons scampering over the carpet as he uncovered what he was after. She imagined his deep groan of impatience and the satisfying rip of delicate material by hands trembling with passion. Unfortunately, leaving the hotel in an outfit that had been reduced to rags wasn’t part of her fantasy, so she’d better make sure Alec didn’t ruin her clothes in a fit of lust.

Maybe she should give him a little head start on the process. At least the shoes and the panty hose were gone. She studied herself in the mirror. Her silk suit jacket was meant to stay buttoned, and underneath she wore a really boring bra.

She’d been thinking about that bra ever since she’d had the idea of seducing Alec today. When she’d picked that one out of the drawer this morning, she’d been going for comfort. She’d expected to spend the day riding the train, not cavorting in a hotel room with Alec. The debate of comfort versus style hadn’t been an issue.

Maybe if she partly undressed, that would be provocative enough. She experimented with unfastening the top button, then the top two buttons. At last she undid all the buttons. Well, that wasn’t any good. Underneath that black silk was that stupid plain bra.

Aha. She could ditch the bra. With that in mind, she ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. Then she locked the door. She didn’t want Alec coming in while she was in the process of modifying her outfit. Very uncool.

She made it back into the room in less than a minute and stuffed the dorky bra into her purse beside the panty hose. Now the mirror revealed a barefoot woman dressed in a black silk skirt, panties and a suit jacket half buttoned. When she moved, only bare skin and a hint of shadowy cleavage showed.

But her hair was too carefully combed. She mussed it up. Good. Posing in front of the mirror, she arched her back and tossed her head. Then she pursed her lips and lowered her lashes. Not bad. If she’d ever had the nerve to do that in front of the camera, she might not have been such a washout as an actor.

Alec wasn’t even in the room yet and she was already coming into her own. She smiled seductively at the woman in the mirror and made a soft purring sound. She was going to be bad, very bad.

The door lock clicked.

She leaped back from the mirror and frantically smoothed her hair into place. Who did she think she was? Then she buttoned her suit jacket all the way up to her neck and scrambled for her shoes.

She had one on and was hopping around trying to get the second one in place when Alec opened the door, the doggie bag in one hand and a single red rose in the other. Had she really invited him to make love to her all afternoon? She couldn’t imagine herself ever doing such a thing!

Yet here he was, and she’d practically promised him that a fancy hotel room and her fantasy guy would make her lose her inhibitions. She’d hinted that if he peeled away her nice-girl persona, he’d uncover a purring sex kitten. What had she been thinking?

The room began to spin. Still holding her other shoe, she staggered back toward the bed and sagged against it while she struggled to breathe.

“Molly?”

“Oh, Alec. I…I think I’m going to faint.”

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