“Since there’s a genuine attraction between us, it won’t take much to convince your family we’re a couple…”

“Danny, why would you want to do this?” Jordan asked, a sexy smile tugging at her lips.

He wasn’t sure when the idea had come to him—this morning in her bed or the night before when they’d been going at it for hours. Danny had now discovered Jordan’s wild side, and he planned to explore it to the fullest.

“After last night, do you really have to ask?”

“So this is some kind of sexual favor?”

He cocked his head to the side, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Jordan laughed. “Not that I’m agreeing, but what exactly do you want in return for faking an engagement?”

“You. Naked. Any time. Any place. Any way.”

Dear Reader,

When I started this book, I thought it would be a romantic comedy of errors. (What could be funnier than an accidental kidnapping and switching identities?) But Danny and Jordan had minds of their own.

While writing Danny and Jordan’s story, I learned a lot about determination, courage and the importance of family. Through the eyes of love, Jordan begins to see herself for the beautiful woman she is, inside and out. In the warmth of acceptance, Danny overcomes his fears and takes a chance on love—the biggest risk of all.

I believe in the healing power of laughter and happy endings. Hoping that you are blessed with many happy endings of your own.

I wish you joy,

Mia Zachary

P.S. Please visit at www.miazachary.com.

9½ Days
Mia Zachary

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to those who lost their lives in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania on September 11, 2001, and to those who continuously dedicate their lives to saving others.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Heartfelt thanks to CeeJai, without whom this story never would have been written. I appreciate the four-hour lunches and the midnight telephone plotting sessions. And to Melissa, who reminded me about author integrity and character growth. Thank you for the trans-Pacific e-mails and @**-kickings.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Introduction

“I want you, right here and right now!”

You may never have spoken those words, or had them said to you, but you must want to. You bought this book!

Inside these pages are fifty sizzling hot, superexciting fantasies to help you recapture the passion and anticipation in your love life. Some are sensual, others sexy; some are naughty and others are oh-so-nice, but all of them are red-hot fun!

Try these ideas on the spur of the moment for a delicious quickie, or take your time and make the fantasy last all night. There are only three rules: Be Safe, Be Spontaneous and Be Satisfied.

Go ahead. Turn the page. You’ll soon discover fifty ways to say “I want you, right here and right now, and here’s how!”

1

“DID YOU FIND EVERYTHING you need?”

Jordan Gregory snapped shut the book she held as her heart plunged into her stomach. Pulse tripping erratically, she turned her head toward the source of the question. Didn’t it just figure? The only young, handsome employee in all of Barnes & Noble and he had to be the one to bust her.

She pressed the front cover against her chest to hide the title as heat rushed to her face. Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment? She managed to paste on a smile for the cute book clerk.

“Yes. I mean, no. I’m just browsing.”

Humor gleamed in his large brown eyes as he glanced at the book jacket. Then he offered her a knowing grin. Too late she realized the title was printed on the back cover as well as the front. Damn.

“Let me know if you have any questions, ma’am.”

Jordan wasn’t sure if that was a criticism or a come-on, but she thanked him just the same and waited impatiently for him to move along. Her eyes darted around the bookstore. She hoped no one else in the Thursday lunchtime crowd noticed her standing in the Sex & Relationships aisle, practically drooling all over Fifty Fast Fantasies.

Hot blood thudded along her veins and she imagined smoke emanating from inside her jade-green suit as a heavy ache settled between her thighs. She didn’t normally read books like this, let alone follow the instructions. But she wanted to experience the kind of passion and spontaneity that Fifty Fast Fantasies promised.

The one time she’d had sex with her ex-boyfriend, David, had been a complete disaster. Even now, Jordan shuddered to remember how clumsy and self-conscious she’d been. By the time she’d forced herself to relax, it was already over. The whole experience had left her unsatisfied and unsure of herself.

She saw the cute clerk coming around the corner again and ducked into the Reference section. There was only one other person near the crossword puzzle dictionaries and foreign-language tapes. Jordan turned her back to the woman and randomly opened the book again. Wow. She hadn’t realized how many ways you could use nondairy whipped topping.

She flipped back to the table of contents. Just reading the introduction to the sexual guidebook had scorched her white silk blouse. Chapter descriptions like Ahoy Big Pirate; French Maid Service; Great! The Outdoors, and Mirror Mirror on the Wall were enough to make her spontaneously combust.

Maybe if she tried out some of these fantasies, if she learned some tricks to make herself sexy and desirable, she could convince David to try again. Six weeks ago he had gently suggested some time apart to think about what they wanted. Jordan thought that time apart was at the heart of their problems but hadn’t argued, believing the fault lay with her and her inexperience.

But she had to win David back. Fast.

Pretend to be a pirate’s wench or a sexy dominatrix? The very idea was daunting. She had never imagined herself going to this kind of extreme, but desperate times required drastic actions. At this point she would do almost anything to convince David to grant her this favor. Anything to have him look at her with something more than kindness in his gaze.

Maybe then the little voice in the back of her head that whispered she was making a mistake would shut up.

“Huh. Ah. Tuh. Hot. I know that word!” Jordan looked down to see a rosy-cheeked cherub gazing at her with innocent blue eyes. “And the next word is Ss. Eh—”

Jordan moved her book out of sight before the little girl could figure out how to pronounce the letter X. She contorted her stiff features into a brief smile. “Isn’t your mommy looking for you, sweetie?”

“Nope. She’s right over there.” The girl skipped toward the woman by the dictionaries. “Mama, what does ‘sex’ mean?”

Jordan backed away from the heat of the woman’s glare and fled the Reference section. She was never shopping at this Barnes & Noble again.

As she moved through the store, the bright covers of the fashion and gossip magazines caught her attention. She averted her eyes, but it was too late. The jolt of ugly emotions stabbed her in the gut. She wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t. Jordan shoved her guilty secret to the back of her mind and kept walking.

Waiting her turn near the checkout, the latest issue of Baltimore Today caught her eye. David was on the front beneath a headline that read, Legal Eagles: The Best 30 Lawyers In The City. He looked tall and confident in his charcoal pin-striped suit. The cream-colored shirt and red paisley tie complemented the rich cappuccino tones of his skin. Sunlight from his large office window shone on his dark curls and rivaled the brightness of his wide smile.

David was perfect. He was handsome, successful, intelligent and considerate. What more could a woman ask for?

How about a man who actually lights your fire instead of blowing it out? How about hot, sheet-soaking sex instead of chaste kisses and friendly hugs?

David had ambitions to be the youngest Partner at Chase, Behr & Lily, the law firm where they both worked. He put in a lot of hours at the office and often traveled. When he was available, they’d gone out to firm dinners, client parties or charity functions. Rarely had they spent time alone.

Jordan raised her left hand, angling the back until the fluorescent light caught the half-karat solitaire on her third finger. Everyone in her family had been delighted when she started a promising relationship with such a perfect guy. They were downright ecstatic when she’d bragged to her cousin that David had proposed.

Too bad she’d lied about the whole thing.

Her fiancé was actually her ex-boyfriend and the solitaire was only a “friendship ring.” She’d bought it herself with David’s credit card. He hated shopping and told her it was the only way she was certain of getting exactly what she wanted.

What she wanted was a real relationship in her life, instead of a lie that was guaranteed to ambush her at some point.

She glanced at her watch and winced. She had to get back to the office to meet with her client, Susan Brandywine. The local news anchor wanted Jordan to handle a wrongful-discharge lawsuit.

Clutching Fifty Fast Fantasies a little tighter in her damp grasp, she hurried over to the checkout before she changed her mind. That little voice was whispering to her again, warning that her seduction plan was not a good idea. Jordan ignored it.

TWO DAYS LATER, Jordan just wanted to go back upstairs and put on her clothes. Instead, she was parading around in a red silk nightgown and an ankle-length lace cover-up. Underneath, she wore a pair of red bikini panties. How could anyone feel sexy with these little scraps of silk creeping into places they didn’t belong?

While she hoped the peignoir set made her appear sexy and provocative, she was afraid she only looked awkward and overweight. And she couldn’t leave. She was trapped by family obligation and a crush of people in the Belle Fleur Atrium of Baltimore’s esteemed St. Charles Hotel.

She still couldn’t figure out how her older sister had talked her into playing an active role in this lingerie show. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She remembered a lot of pleading, begging and low-balance checkbook waving.

Camryn had recently ended her career as a haute couture supermodel. A chance meeting with Mason Rowling-Shays, III, heir to the department-store chain, had led to creating her own line of intimate wear, Boudoir Allure Designs. But she’d used what little money she had saved over the years to get the fledgling business off the ground.

Jordan had been more than happy to help her sister coordinate this all-important first presentation. Camryn’s future depended on the success of the show. Then one of the models had to back out at the last minute and her sister was frantic for a replacement.

But Jordan wasn’t about to have her soft curves measured against the willowy size-six mannequins her sister had recruited. She’d compromised by agreeing to circulate through the after-show reception in the modest red peignoir set—modest by comparison with some of Camryn’s other designs.

She still felt exposed in the audacious gown with its low-cut bodice and thigh-high split. Only the hot flush of embarrassment kept her from getting frostbite as she wandered about the Atrium. But she’d never been able to refuse her family anything. So here she was, half-clothed and completely uncomfortable.

Jordan shivered as goose bumps marched along her arms. To counter the record-high temperatures outside, the hotel’s overeager ventilation system blasted air in frigid gusts. The burbling of the indoor fountain mingled with the din of a hundred voices, making it impossible to do more than smile and nod as she moved about the room.

Several magazine editors stopped to admire her outfit. She obediently turned in a tight circle, allowing yet another group of fashionistas to coo over the delicate lace embroidery of her gown. One man wore a press pass and a leering smirk, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d noticed the cold air’s effect through the delicate material.

Jordan tried to pull the edges of the robe across her hardened nipples, but the little cover-up wouldn’t cover a damned thing. With a faltering smile, she settled for crossing her arms over her breasts. The group moved on to critique another outfit and she continued to fulfill her promise to Camryn.

Her sister was, and always would be, the golden ideal she could never attain. Growing up in Camryn’s svelte shadow hadn’t been easy. Chubby and shy, she’d wanted so badly to be included in her sister’s charmed circle but, knowing she could never fit in, had found solace in food.

Any kind of food. Every kind of food.

She often wondered if there’d been a switch at the hospital where she was born. Her parents, sister and two brothers were all attractive, outgoing, charismatic. And then there was her. The ugly duckling in the middle…

Enough was enough. She had to go and put on a real pair of panties. The noise level and the glass of champagne she had drunk for courage had given her a slight headache. The reception didn’t look as if it would be winding down any time soon, but she doubted she’d be missed.

She judged the distance to the makeshift dressing rooms and decided the exit would be closer. With one last glance at her sister, Jordan slipped through the crowd toward the bank of elevators just beyond the doors. The concourse level of the hotel was deserted. Her sequined sandals clicked like castanets as she strode across the marble floor.

Jordan ignored the open stares of two men leaving the one available elevator and stepped inside, shoulders hunched and arms across her cleavage. Though she looked down, concentrating on the pattern of the tile, she couldn’t block the sound of the men’s murmured appraisals of her breasts.

“Wow! Those cups really runneth over.”

“I’d love to cuddle up on her pillows tonight.”

She blushed, both embarrassed and yet a little flattered by the attention. It was always like this, a mixture of shame and pride that left her confused, wishing men wouldn’t stare at her chest. Mercifully, the doors slid shut as she selected the button for the twelfth floor. With a bump and a groan, the elevator began its reluctant ascent. The hotel manager must have made good on his promise to have the problem fixed. No one else got on at the subsequent floors, so she was left alone with her thoughts.

Ever since buying Fifty Fast Fantasies, she felt as though her nerve endings had been electrified. Jordan closed her eyes and dared to stroke her hands over the silk covering her sides and down to her hips. The smooth material skimmed her bare flesh, setting off sparks that told her she was in sore need of physical affection. Her whole being seemed to be in a heightened state of awareness. The slightest stimulation made her tingle all the way to her thighs…

She opened her eyes and sighed. Her body was crying out for attention. Her seduction plan just had to work. She and David saw each other at the law firm, of course, and he was warm and caring and friendly. However, friendship and time apart was definitely not what she needed.

Suddenly the elevator jerked to a stop and Jordan fell off her open-backed sandals, bumping her shoulder against the wood-paneled wall. She looked up at the display to find both the number seven and number eight lit. Damn.

She pushed the button for the twelfth floor and waited, but nothing happened. She pressed it again, this time holding it for few seconds. Still nothing. Damn, damn, damn. She started jabbing the buttons for every other floor, one at a time, but they didn’t even light up. Next, she tried pushing them two at a time—whoa.

The whole panel was now glowing like a Christmas tree, but the elevator still didn’t move. Irritation gave way to alarm so she slapped one palm against the knob with the bell symbol printed on it. The shrill clanging echoed in the small space, not a good thing when she already had a headache.

The sound faded to a metallic ringing in her ears as the air conditioner suddenly shut off. Not a bad thing. At least now she wouldn’t freeze to death. She would just plunge to the basement, trapped inside a cold metal box with her boobs hanging out of her sister’s red silk nightgown.

Frantic now, she punched all of the buttons over and over again, searching for a pattern that would get this damned thing moving! The elevator jerked again and her shoulders sagged in relief. Then everything went still and silent once more.

Omigod. Omigod. She was alone. Completely alone. In a stalled elevator. With no way out and no way to call for help…

“Help! Somebody. Anybody. Help!”

The phone! Didn’t these things come with phones? Shaking her head for not thinking of it sooner, she fumbled with the small handle until she felt the compartment door release. Jordan lifted the receiver with a shaking hand. She listened for a dial tone, or better yet, another voice.

“Hello?”

“Yes! I’m here.” She ignored the break in her voice and gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, I’m stuck. I’m in the elevator near the Atrium, somewhere around the seventh floor.”

“Are you hurt?”

She clenched the phone a little tighter. “No, just a little uneasy.”

“Okay, hon. Fire department’s on the way, but it could take ’em a while to get to you.”

“How long is a while?” she yelped.

“Dunno. Couple of power grids have gone down already and—”

Jordan looked up as the lights overhead flickered once. Twice.

“Looks like we’re next. Just sit tight and relax. Somebody’ll get to you soon as they can.”

Her knees buckled and her legs gave out at the same time the lights did. Relax? Relax? Her fingers went numb, dropping the receiver to dangle from its plastic cord, as reality slapped her in the face. She was alone. Completely alone. In a stalled elevator. With no way out. In the dark.

Don’t panic. There’s no need to panic. She forced a deep, calming breath in through her nose. The elevator would start moving any second now. At any moment. Really soon. Jordan hissed the breath she’d been holding through her clenched teeth.

So much for not panicking.

She gulped, even though her mouth had gone desert-dry. Her heart stammered in her chest as the blood from her head drained into it. Sitting on the floor, the hard marble tiles icy against her almost bare bottom, she gasped for air. What had happened to the air? Suddenly it was stuffy. Warm and stuffy and hard to breathe.

Omigod. Omigod. She was going to suffocate before she plunged to the basement. The more she panicked, the more she hyperventilated. And the more she hyperventilated, the more she feared she would suck all of the remaining oxygen out of the elevator.

She couldn’t see her hands in front of her face as she dropped her head into her palms. Jordan had heard the term “total darkness” before, but never fully understood it until now. Squeezing her eyes shut, the first tears slipped from beneath her lashes.

Fear like she’d never known before—hot, black, airless fear—evaporated her common sense and her crying became hysterical. If she had to die, she didn’t want her twisted broken body to be found wearing a red nightgown and bikini panties.

Jordan considered her last thought. Even terrified and miserable, the irony wasn’t lost on her. She was dressed in intimate wear but had never actually been intimate. Oh, sure, she’d had sex, but it hadn’t been worth repeating. And now she was going to die a semivirgin without ever having a real orgasm.

Omigod, she was going to die.

She cried harder, gulping in hot, stagnant air between sobs. If by some miracle she lived through this, she wasn’t going to waste any more time. She’d have sex and lots of it. She would try every conceivable position. She’d play sex games and buy toys…

Well, maybe not toys. After insisting the bedroom lights stay off the one time she was with David, she probably wasn’t ready for toys.

First, though, she had to get out of here. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she tipped her head back and took a deep, deep breath. “Hellllp!”

“Hang on, ma’am! We’re coming to get you out.”

A voice in the darkness! It sounded like salvation. It sounded like hope. It sounded like a man.

2

DANNY NAVARRO HATED the dark.

Hated it, not feared it. No, he couldn’t afford to fear it. He just hated it. The way it made his breathing shallow and his pulse race. He tightened his grip on the heavy aluminum flashlight he carried. Even with the intermittent glow of the emergency-exit lights, the eighth-floor hallway was still too damned obscure for his comfort.

His boots sank into the plush carpeting as he strode past the paler darkness of the hotel-room doors. Danny shifted the weight of the toolbox in his other hand, wishing he could reach up to wipe the sweat from under his helmet. At least he wasn’t in full turnout gear, wearing the heavy Nomex coat and pants. It was hot enough without the hotel’s cooling ventilation.

Beside him, firefighter Mike Cornwall huffed out a breath. “Phew. Weatherman said it’s one hundred five degrees with the heat index. You can’t tell me there’s nothing to this global-warming thing.”

Danny chuckled. “Don’t blame me, I stopped using aerosol years ago. The problem is all those satellites cluttering the skies.”

“Uh-huh. Seems to me you were right there enjoying my digital TV dish last Super Bowl Sunday.”

“Yeah, and you still owe me twenty bucks, Stonewall.” He called him by the nickname Mike’s six-foot-four-frame and dedication to weight lifting had earned him. “I told you not to bet against the Ravens’ running game.”

“Shame it’s too dark to get a look at all those underwear models downstairs. I’ll bet I’d leave with a pocketful of phone numbers.”

Danny snickered. “I’ll take odds against that bet.” They reached the bank of elevators and set down their equipment. He rolled his shoulders.

“Which one is she in, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know, Mike. We’ll have to open all three.”

Danny pulled out a large ring of keys while Mike shone the flashlight on the call panel to find the manufacturer’s brand. “It’s an Otis Geared Elevonic model.”

“Okay. Let’s start on the left.” As he turned the skeleton key to disengage the locks on the outer doors, he heard a high-pitched shriek coming from the middle elevator.

“Hellllp!”

“Hang on, ma’am! We’re coming to get you out.”

Grabbing a Halligan, Danny pried open the outer doors and then Mike held them apart with a length of rebar in case the power suddenly came back on. A quick sweep with the flashlight revealed the concrete wall and thick cables inside the open shaft. The elevator itself was closer to the seventh floor than the eighth. Only the top two and a half feet of the car were visible.

“Looks like you’ll have to slide in and get her, L.T.”

Danny carefully controlled his reaction, refusing to let it show on his face. “Me? I’m the senior here.”

“Yeah, but since L.T. stands for Lady Target as well as ‘lieutenant,’ you’re the man for the job.”

He’d always wanted to be a fireman. Always. But he’d never consider himself a hero, despite the media calling him one. He was just a guy who cared about doing his job. Right now, though, it required heroic effort to control the chill of dread seeping into his limbs.

“All right. Let’s get it done.”

Danny took off his helmet then helped Mike get the inner doors open and propped. He grabbed the flashlight, got down to floor level and leaned his head over the edge. He shone the light around inside the elevator car and saw the red clad figure huddled in the corner.

“Oh, thank God.”

The woman’s voice quavered as she choked out the words. The gleam of the flashlight revealed a tear-streaked face beneath the hand she used to shield her eyes. Her lush scarlet mouth tilted in a little smile of embarrassed relief. “I wasn’t panicking, though.”

Danny noticed that her voice still sounded weak and smiled a little himself. “I’m sure you weren’t, ma’am. Are you injured? Did you hit your head or anything?”

“No. I’m just a bit s-scared.”

“It’s going to be all right. The heat’s caused a rolling blackout. But I’m going to get you out.” He started to turn away when she called to him.

“Don’t leave!”

“I’m not leaving, ma’am. I was just talking to my partner. I’ll be right down to get you.”

“Oh, okay. Not that I panicked.”

“No, ma’am, of course not.” Danny had dealt with a lot of hysterics in his nine years on the job. People were often so relieved and grateful to be rescued that they simply broke down. He wasn’t about to make fun of her, since he didn’t feel that comfortable himself.

He looked up at Mike. “I’ll go down and give her a lift. You help her the rest of the way. She says she’s not hurt, but I’ll check her out just the same.”

“I’m sure you will, L.T.” Mike’s voice had an undercurrent of innuendo as he took the flashlight to hold.

Danny ignored him as he swung his legs into the elevator car, bearing his weight on his forearms. Since this wasn’t a life or death situation, he stole a second to get himself under control. None of the guys at Station 24 knew, not even Mike. A year had passed as if it were only a moment, but that moment was all too fresh in his mind.

Just as he was about to lower himself down, an elderly woman hurried out of one of the hotel rooms down the hall. “My husband! Please help us. He collapsed! He has chest pains and says it feels like another heart attack.”

“L.T.?”

Mike was training to become an FF4, a firefighter paramedic. He was already grabbing his first-aid kit while he waited for Danny’s response. With many of the city fire trucks assisting Baltimore Oil & Power, generators and manpower were spread thin.

“Go. I’ll handle this. Call for the nearest ambulance and wait for them to take over.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Mike rushed off with the only flashlight, leaving Danny hanging. Literally. The idea of being stuck in the dark, cramped space for even a few minutes wasn’t doing much to alleviate his sweating. But a possible heart attack was more urgent than his problem. Inhaling quietly, he ducked his head to keep from banging it on the elevator ceiling and let himself drop. His stomach lurched as he fell.

Six feet might as well have been a sixty in the darkness…

After hitting the floor, Danny turned his head from side to side, straining his eyes and willing something to come into focus. Suddenly he heard a rustle of movement and the woman collided into him. Without the flashlight, he couldn’t see her. Or anything else.

Her disjointed sobs echoed in the small, hot space, further confusing senses that were denied the capacity of sight. His lungs clenched, struggling to drag breath into their shallow depths. The scar tissue on his back tightened. His pulse accelerated and he fought to steady his pounding heart…

Someone was crying. He could hear muffled weeping, but was too disoriented to identify where it came from. It was pitch-black and impossibly hot. He couldn’t breathe. Dense smoke and the acrid smell of burning fuel choked what little air was left.

He crawled through puddles of water, over jagged metal and broken concrete. The darkness seemed to cave in on him. Then more explosions rocked the floor beneath him, trapping him in what already resembled the lowest level of hell…

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

The woman’s mumbled words brought him back to the present. As she clung to him, Danny welcomed the contact with another living being and instinctively offered the comfort of his arms. Her soft lips nuzzled the side of his neck where she’d buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. He held her tightly, breathing in the floral scent of her hair.

He couldn’t have let her go if he wanted to.

He didn’t know how long they stood holding each other, his sense of time as confused as everything else. But slowly his attention sharpened and he became aware of her. He felt the warmth of her body seeping into him and driving away the chill of anxiety. Her full breasts were flattened against his chest, the hardened peaks jutting through his cotton T-shirt. Beneath his hands, he recognized the coarse texture of lace as he soothed his palms down her back.

A nightgown? In the middle of the day? She must be one of the underwear models.

She curled into him, drawing closer when she tightened her hold around his waist. He was extremely cognizant of each place their bodies touched. Her breath warmed his throat and her nearness heated his blood. In an instant, he was rock hard and more than willing to forget where they were.

The air around them pulsed with sexual energy and he knew exactly when she noticed the change. He heard the quick intake of breath. She raised her head, as if she were about to speak, but then her mouth brushed the edge of his and he was lost.

Acting on pure instinct, he captured her lips, coaxing his tongue between them. She tasted like cinnamon; she tasted like sin. His fingers sought to caress her hair, and in doing so released the clip that restrained it. The heavy mass tumbled down to flow around her shoulders. Sexy little moans and whimpers escaped her throat as he held the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss.

She trembled so hard he thought she might collapse in his arms, but instead she shimmied against him in an invitation as old as time. He ran his hands over her curvaceous hips and backside, pressing her forward to feel the effect she had on him. His hands glided up her generous body—he loved a woman he could hold on to—until they reached her silk-covered breasts.

At her gasp of surprise and pleasure, he slipped his fingers inside the nightgown to fondle the warm fullness of her flesh. She moaned as he gently rolled her hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Then he bent his head to take one delicate bud inside his mouth. He laved and suckled her breast in rhythm with her soft cries.

She grasped the sides of his face and drew him up until their lips met again. The feel of her tongue exploring the recesses of his mouth sent a wave of desire through his body that crested as an aching pressure in his groin. He stroked his right hand down her torso until he came across the deep split in her gown. He slid his fingers inside to touch the satiny skin beneath the silk. Her thighs parted to allow him greater access while her lips nibbled hungrily on his mouth.

She tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it free from his trousers before she drew her hands over his stomach and up to his chest. The feel of her sensual touch had his own nipples hardening in response. He moved his hand higher under the skirt of her nightgown, lifting the fabric until he could feel the edge of her panties.

He inched his fingers toward the apex of her thighs, felt the damp heat through the material as he rubbed her feminine mound. She rocked her hips back and forth over his hand while his tongue danced with hers. His erection throbbed against his zipper when her wiggling became frenzied. Seconds later, she shuddered, groaning against his shoulder as she climaxed.

Danny grinned into her hair as she tried to catch her breath. Of all the elevators in all the world, he found himself with the most intensely responsive woman he’d ever encountered. Under his shirt, her hands slid down his belly to grope for his belt buckle.

But just as she reached to unzip him, he heard Mike’s voice right above them. “Hey, L.T. I’m back.”

Startled, they jerked apart as if they’d been electrocuted. As the flashlight beam arced lower, Danny fumbled to tuck in his shirt and refasten his pants. The woman hastily adjusted the front of her nightgown and pulled the skirt part back into place.

He raised his voice to draw Mike’s attention. “How’s the guy with the chest pain?”

“The EMTs have him stabilized for transport.”

In the dim light, Danny noted that the woman’s back was toward him. Even without seeing her face, he sensed her embarrassment by the shielding curve of her posture and the low angle of her head. His whisper scarcely carried across the elevator. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but refused to look at him. Despite the lack of ventilation, he felt a distinct chill that was stunning after the heat they’d generated. He could understand it, though. They were strangers, and who knows how far things might have gone if Mike hadn’t returned when he did.

If he got lucky, however, later tonight they could finish what they’d started. Danny moved behind her, keeping his voice low and willing her to turn around. “When can I see you? Where can I find you?”

Her shoulders were hunched, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. She tilted her head and glanced up, as though wondering how close Mike was. She shook her head and didn’t speak.

“All right. Let’s get out of here and then we can talk.” Danny leaned his head back and called up to Mike. “Ready when you are, Stonewall.”

“Anytime, L.T.”

He placed his hands on the woman’s upper arms, ignoring the way she flinched as he guided her toward the front of the elevator car. “I’m going to lift you up so that Mike can catch your hands. Don’t let go of him until you’re all the way out to the floor. Okay?”

She angled her head away, but he heard her whispered acknowledgment. “Okay.”

He grasped her waist, bending his knees as she raised her arms to the light-filled opening. Flexing his thighs, he boosted her toward the ceiling. When he saw that Mike held her securely, he shifted his hands to her bottom, trying to ignore the intimate knowledge that his hands had been under that red silk gown only moments before. He gave a gentle push and waited for Mike to help her the rest of the way.

“I’ve got her, L.T.”

Danny balanced on the balls of his feet then lunged up to catch the edge of the eighth floor. Using sheer arm strength, he pulled himself to chest height before pivoting to swing his legs up as well. He got to his feet and saw Mike holding the flashlight, trying to check on the woman.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. I just need to go—”

“Wait a minute,” Danny protested. When she turned in his direction, his heart slammed to a stunned halt. He completely forgot whatever else he’d planned to say. The words caught in his throat as it tightened in dismay.

Gaze downcast, the woman still refused to look at him. But he didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were the golden brown color of maple syrup. Despite the gloom in the hallway, he knew that her hair had mahogany highlights and that her skin was the warm tone of caramel. He also knew he’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Her voice sounded tight with embarrassment. “Thank you very much for helping me. I appreciate it.”

Mike started to speak. “If you’re sure…”

But she was already hurrying away down the dark corridor. Danny sensed his colleague turning to him, but his attention followed the elusive glimpse of red silk.

“Well, I see you managed to get some of her lipstick.” Mike’s voice held a note of jealous humor. Danny drew the back of his hand across his mouth and looked down to see a smear of color on his knuckles. “Did you get her name and phone number, too?”

“No, I didn’t get her number.”

“Too bad, L.T. She looked hot.”

Danny had no intention of getting the number now. And he already knew her name. Jordan Gregory.

His brother David’s girlfriend.

“KRISSY LYNN. What the hell kind of name is Krissy Lynn?”

Jordan leaned back in the conference room chair and watched her newest client, Susan Brandywine, pace the expensive wool carpeting. Her hands were jammed into the pockets of her palazzo pants, the kind Katherine Hepburn always wore in the late-night movies Jordan liked to watch.

“She’s blond and petite and just so gosh-darned eager.” Susan batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly. “And get this, she’s all of twenty-five years old. I’ve got sweaters older than this bubble-headed bimbo.”

Jordan didn’t look up from the note she jotted on a legal pad as she asked, “Aren’t you judging your replacement in the same manner you claim you’re being judged?”

Susan had been the female anchor on the WBNS nightly news team for ten years. After a messy and painful divorce, she began suffering from depression and put on some weight. At that point, she was shuffled from the prominent evening slot to a position reading the midday news.

The demotion fueled Susan’s depression, as did the comments of the news director and station manager, who suggested she lose weight, dress more femininely and grow out her “mannish” hairstyle. Then, just before her fortieth birthday, the station decided to “go with a more up-to-date look” for midday.

Susan stopped near the window overlooking the Camden Yards baseball stadium and sighed, running a strong hand through her short dark hair. “Yeah, damn it, I guess I am. But it hurts, Jordan. It really hurts.”

She made a sympathetic noise as her client continued to stare at the view. Jordan stood up and moved to the window. “I know exactly how you must feel.”

Susan eyed her up and down and scoffed. “Sure you do, honey.”

“You’re seeing me now. Not as the almost two-hundred-pound girl with bad skin and no friends I used to be.” She turned up the corners of her mouth, hoping it resembled a smile.

Susan nodded. “So as a former ‘fat girl’ yourself, you’re in the best position to defend me.”

Something inside of her twisted at the comparison, but Jordan focused on what was important. “I think we have a good chance with both the wrongful termination and the discrimination cases.”

“You know, I have a journalism degree from Columbia. I started out writing copy at a couple of newspapers. Journalism requires long hours, unbeatable dedication and street smarts as well as brain smarts.” Susan’s expression hardened. “It does not require looking like a Barbie doll. Especially not when my male co-anchors have gray hair, paunches and bags under their eyes. What does sex appeal have to do with my ability to tell an audience about a multiple rush-hour fatality on the Beltway?”

Susan was a very attractive woman: literate, funny, irreverent, and she had great personal style. And yet Jordan couldn’t suppress her reluctant aversion. It was like seeing herself the way she used to be, the way she’d worked so hard never to be again…

However, she wasn’t about to let her personal issues affect her zealous defense of a case. “In our favor, several successful lawsuits have set a precedent. For example, Connecticut anchorwoman Janet Peckinpaugh won her 1999 case against Post-News-week. You’re not too old, nor too fat, to do your job, Susan. And we’re going to prove it.”

From fifteen floors below, Jordan was distracted by the strident peal of a fire engine racing up Howard Street. The huge machine blared its horn at slow-moving cars until they pulled far enough toward the sidewalk for the engine to get by. She wondered if her elevator rescuer was onboard.

She also wondered what he looked like. Jordan had been too ashamed to look at him when he’d stood before her, too embarrassed to glance back as she fled. The firefighter from the elevator would never be more than a faceless memory.

3

JORDAN DOVE INTO the sea of bodies on the sidewalk and headed down Pratt Street past the Convention Center and the Garmatz Federal Courthouse. She’d conducted all of her meetings and handled her caseload on autopilot this morning, unable to concentrate.

She couldn’t stop thinking about…him. He was a complete mystery, this sensual stranger. And yet some air of familiarity had prompted her to let him kiss her, fondle and stroke her in the most intimate ways. Each time she closed her eyes, she experienced again the heat of his touch and the drugging taste of his kiss. Her lips actually tingled.

Jordan startled when someone jostled her elbow. Realizing she’d been lost in thought, again, she hurried to cross Charles Street before the traffic light changed. Downtown was teeming with tourists, many wearing Baltimore Orioles T-shirts in anticipation of tonight’s game. Exhaust fumes polluted the humid air while the sounds of crawling traffic echoed off the multistory buildings.

She waited through another red light by the Gallery mall on Light Street. She’d left her jacket at the office in deference to the heat, but the September sun seemed intent on burning a hole through her cotton shirtdress. Over the last few blocks, it felt as if her panty hose was melting and permanently adhering to her legs. Not to mention the way the waistband was strangling her. Queen-size? Yeah, right.

The early-autumn heat wave made everything hot and tight and sticky. Not unlike the heat she felt racing along her veins whenever she relived those mind-blowing moments at the St. Charles Hotel. Over the past two nights, the firefighter from the elevator had become the faceless lover of her dreams. In her midnight fantasies that first explosive orgasm was followed by several others as they made crazy, passionate love against the wood-paneled wall.

Jordan gave herself a mental shake as a truck horn blared impatiently. She had to stop this. There was probably a special area in purgatory for good girls gone bad. And she might as well get used to the idea because, if her daydreams were any indication, she was more than willing to be bad again.

She crossed the street with a determined stride, heading toward the Pratt Street Pavilion where she was meeting her college roommates, Sheris Smith and Melanie Walters, for their Monthly Monday lunch. In the tiny amphitheater between the two main buildings of the Harborplace complex, a crowd clapped and ignored the midday heat as a juggler tossed bowling pins in time to music.

The cool air inside the Pavilion was a welcome relief, and Jordan took a moment to let her body adjust and to check her watch. Five minutes early. Which meant Melanie would arrive at exactly twelve-thirty, and they should only have to wait another fifteen minutes after that for Sheris to show up.

She opened the door to the Cheesecake Factory restaurant, gave her name to the hostess and asked for an inside table. Once seated, she settled in with a raspberry iced tea, idly gazing out the tinted glass window.

Families and couples of all ages strolled along the red brick promenade on the harbor’s edge. Water taxis and duck boats carried tourists around the Patapsco River between the Inner Harbor and Fell’s Point. A line of people waited to tour the USS Constellation, a three-masted Civil War sloop anchored at Pier One.

Looking past the facade of the World Trade Center, Jordan could see the triangular glass roof of the National Aquarium. She’d been meaning to get over there and see the new Amazon River Forest exhibit…

“Hi!” Melanie bounced toward the table at twelve-thirty on the dot and waved to several people as she walked by. Mel was a diminutive dynamo and seemed to know everybody. With her petite figure and boy-short hairstyle, she looked like a happy pixie.

She dressed like one, too. Today she wore a bright yellow-and-white-striped pants set that complemented her coffee skin. Jordan smiled. You couldn’t help but smile at Melanie. She was like a walking dose of antidepressant. Her wide-set eyes always reflected her joy in life.

She stood up to trade hugs. No air kisses with Mel, who was genuine in everything she did. “I’m glad you could come today.”

“Of course, Jordan! I wouldn’t miss our monthly lunch! How have you been? Is that our waitress? I’m dying of thirst!”

“Try the raspberry tea. I think you’ll like it.” Jordan kept her voice carefully modulated since Melanie tended to make either a question or an exclamation of everything she said. “So, tell me what’s new.”

“Rochelle did so well in school! And can you believe it? Chris made the winning goal for his soccer team during the last game of the season! Guess what we’re doing? Bill and I are taking the kids to Disney!”

“That sounds great. But I thought you were planning a vacation without the kids.” Although Melanie treated her boyfriend’s children like her own, Jordan knew she often wished for more adults-only time.

Melanie reached for her tea and drank half of it before answering. “Oh, that’s our anniversary trip in November! Bill and I are going back to Costa Rica! I think he’s finally going to propose! Have you and David talked about where you’ll spend your honeymoon? You two would just love Costa Rica!”

She was saved from having to answer when she noticed heads near the restaurant entrance turning. “There’s Sheris.”

Sheris nodded in response to Melanie’s excited wave and sauntered across the dining room. She always moved as though she owned whatever place she was in. Given her family’s diversified investments, she might very well have part ownership of the restaurant.

Jordan stifled a pang of envy over her friend’s casual stylishness. Jordan spent hours meticulously planning her outfits and tending to her hair and makeup. Meanwhile, Sheris managed to look gorgeous in whatever she’d thrown on before casually running a brush through her hair and walking out the door. Her dark gypsy curls fell past her shoulders, which were bared by the white peasant blouse she wore with a short leather skirt and sandals. Only Sheris could wear leather in this heat and still look cool.

“Sorry I’m late,” she offered as she brushed a kiss near each of their cheeks. Sheris dropped her overstuffed Louis Vuitton bag on the floor and slid into the seat across from Jordan.

“You’re right on time, actually. Are you sick?”

Sheris laughed. “No, just depressed. I came downtown early to do some pity purchasing.”

Jordan glanced down but didn’t see even a small shopping bag. “You didn’t find anything you liked?”

“Actually I saw several things, but I restrained myself in case I’m still feeling blue tomorrow.” Sheris pulled back her hair to reveal a stunning pair of Ceylon sapphire earrings that exactly matched her deep-set eyes.

Melanie angled closer to get a better look. “Wow! Those are really blue! I take it you broke things off with Grant?”

“Yeah. It seemed best.” Sheris’s reply sounded offhand, but the expression on her face said otherwise. She paused while the waitress brought another glass of tea and three menus.

“You know, it was so great in the beginning. I thought maybe…well, you know how it goes. I got restless, he got defensive. He wanted to buy a place together, I suggested he find a place by himself.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Jordan reached over to grasp her hand.

“Me, too.” Sheris offered a bright smile. “But, hey, they can’t all be Bill or David now, can they?”

“Or Logan.” Melanie threw out the comment while perusing the extensive lunch choices.

Sheris dropped her menu on the table. “Now what in the world made you bring up my ex-husband?”

Mel looked embarrassed. “It just slipped out? I must have heard him last night?”

“Has he still got that little radio program? I didn’t realize.” Sheris tried unsuccessfully to sound dismissive and bored.

Jordan pictured the full-size, full-color billboards on I-95 and the B/W Parkway coming into the city and hid her smile. If Sheris wanted to pretend to be the only person in the Baltimore metropolitan area who didn’t listen to In the Mood with McGuire, so be it.

“Logan was just one in a long line of relationship regrets.” With that, Sheris changed the subject. “I’m going to have the Crusted Chicken Romano over Fettuccine. How about you girls?”

“Mmm. Sounds good,” Melanie replied. “But I’m going to go with the Seafood Cobb Salad.”

Jordan’s stomach growled at the thought of fried chicken and carbohydrate-laden pasta or fat-packed avocados, shrimp and blue cheese. She stifled a sigh, knowing she couldn’t afford to let down her guard. “I’ll just have the baked fish and a tossed salad.”

After placing their orders, they spent some time catching up on news and acquaintances. Inevitably, though, the conversation turned intimate. Sheris dabbed a spot of pasta sauce from her mouth.

“In some ways it’s a relief that things ended with Grant, but I sure am going to miss the sex. That guy could go all night.”

“Really?” Melanie pouted a little and searched her salad for any shrimp she’d missed. “With the kids around most of the time, I’m lucky if Bill and I manage more than thirty minutes. What about you and David?”

“Um, actually things have been a little, um…how do I say this?” Jordan leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I bought a sex manual.”

“Good for you!” Sheris grinned at her. “Which one? I have a fairly extensive collection myself.”

“I got Fifty Fast Fantasies last week.”

Sheris nodded and speared a chunk of chicken off her plate. “That’s a good one. I especially enjoyed Ride Him, Cowgirl and The Butler Did It.”

Jordan choked on a bite of her baked trout and felt her cheeks flame. How could Sheris be so casual about acts that embarrassed her just reading about them? She looked over to see that Melanie had reacted the same way.

Mel’s eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “You, um—you acted them out? I mean, you actually—”

“Well, of course, honey. There’s no reason to buy a sex book if you’re just going to leave it in the drawer.”

“Shh!” Jordan and Melanie both tried to silence her when two men at a nearby table looked over with undisguised interest.

“Oh, come on, girls. Our college days aren’t that far behind us, are they?”

“I don’t know, Sheris. My college days weren’t nearly as social as yours.” Jordan set down her fork. “I mean, I bought the manual. But I’m not sure I can go through with some of those fantasies.”

“Nonsense. You wouldn’t have even looked at a book like that, let alone bought it, if your sex life was satisfying.”

“Shh!”

“Well, you wouldn’t have. So obviously you’re curious and curiosity is key to great sex.” Sheris pushed her empty plate aside. “You have to be willing to discover things about your partner and let him find things out about you. Like, I found out that Scott was into ropes and James loved to be spanked—”

“Eeww!” Melanie wrinkled her elfin nose. “Too much information!”

“Hey, I’m not saying I always agreed to it. But you have to be willing to give if you want to get what you like in return.”

Jordan considered Sheris’s advice while Mel demanded exact details about costumes and props. What was it she really wanted? Sex, certainly. Affection and attention, of course. But more than anything, she wanted to feel burning desire and urgent need. She wanted to feel like she did two days ago.

Melanie was still pressing. “Well, how did you do it, Sheris? I mean, did you suggest it, or did the guys? And if it was you, how did you bring it up?”

“I don’t think I can.” Jordan shook her head. “What would I say? ‘Hi, honey. I made dinner reservations. And afterward, would you mind wearing this slave boy outfit I bought you?’ There’s no way!”

“That is more my style than yours.” Sheris grinned. “So don’t discuss it. Just arrange the setting for your favorite fantasy and surprise him one night. My point is, Jordan, if you want a more exciting love life, you have to lose the sweetness and discover the sweat.”

Jordan’s mind immediately returned to the faceless firefighter. Now there was a man who’d made her sweat. And moan. And climax within seconds of his touching her. She felt heated blood rushing to her cheeks—and other places—as she remembered how incredible he’d made her feel.

She’d never felt that way with David.

It was getting harder to ignore the crushing unhappiness that pervaded her nights. Ironically, she had discovered that being in a poor relationship was lonelier than being on her own. Being single didn’t feel as incomplete as having a lover she feared didn’t love her at all, one she’d struggled to love in return.

Time was running and only David could help her.

LATER THAT NIGHT, Jordan stood in the bedroom of her Federal Hill row house and stripped off her business clothes. She carefully sorted the dry-clean items from the hand-wash only before pulling on a ratty pair of sweatpants and an even older T-shirt. In the bathroom, she removed the hairpins from the chignon she wore at the office and brushed her hair until it fell loosely to her shoulders. Then she creamed the artfully applied makeup from her face.

Jordan stared at herself in the mirror, carefully studying the parts without looking at the whole. A blemish was coming out on her chin. A quick squeeze and it was gone. Tiny wrinkles were developing under her eyes. She’d have to get some retinol cream. Reaching for the tweezers, she plucked several strays from her brow. Then her eyes narrowed as she focused on her hairline. Was that one gray? The tweezers quickly yanked out the offending strand.

She spent several more minutes checking for flaws before sighing heavily and turning out the bathroom light. Downstairs in the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and tried to decide if she wanted a lettuce or a spinach salad for dinner. Neither one was really appealing tonight. She glanced across the room to the cabinet above the coffeemaker.

No. She shouldn’t.

Maybe she could mix the red leaf lettuce and baby spinach together, then julienne some raw vegetables over the top. There were some tomatoes in the crisper and—she felt the contents of that cabinet calling to her.

No!

Okay, she’d skip the salad and just make vegetables crudité with some low-fat cottage cheese on the side. She slammed the refrigerator shut. It was no use. She was going to open that cabinet. She was going to reach inside and she was going to blow her diet all to hell. Like a thief sneaking into forbidden territory, Jordan rushed across the room and grabbed the bag of Dove milk chocolates. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled the addictive scent of cocoa butter and sugar.

Just a few. Only a few.

She walked down the hall to the living room, flopped onto the overstuffed couch and tucked her bare feet underneath her. After laying the bag beside her with the opening in easy reach of her hand, she picked up the issue of Style and Grace magazine on the far cushion. Idly flipping though the pages, Jordan unwrapped a chocolate. She’s so pretty. Not an ounce of fat anywhere on her. Another page. Another chocolate. Look at her thighs. They don’t even meet. Another. And another…

There was Camryn.

Her numb fingers dropped the candy she held back into the bag. Her sister looked stunning. Simply stunning. Her golden skin was bared in a flame-red slip dress with a plunging neckline. The artful lighting emphasized the high ridge of her cheekbones, the long line of her torso and the subtle definition of her athletic legs.

Jordan looked down to see the lone chocolate left in the bag. She felt sick. Guilty and sick and weak and ugly.

Think about something else, anything else. She’d have to run an extra mile tomorrow morning. Damn it! She tossed the magazine away and got up to turn on the television. One of the cable stations was showing Black Lace, a movie in which the main character enticed her boss with anonymous love notes.

Yes, that was the answer. Focus on the seduction. If she could learn to act sexy and alluring, it wouldn’t matter how she looked. In the fantasies, she could be anyone she wanted. In the dark, he’d never see that she wasn’t perfect.

She ran upstairs and got the Fifty Fast Fantasies book from her bedroom. Snuggled onto the couch once more, she ran her index finger along the table of contents until she found one she could use. A scene in the movie distracted her for a second, then she gave all of her attention to the chapter called Strangers For One Night.

Pretend your lover is a handsome stranger. Why not pick him up as if he were a one-night stand? Surprise him in an unexpected location, wearing your naughtiest undies underneath. Let your “stranger” know that you don’t normally do things like this, but you can’t resist him. Then take him back to your place and give him a night neither of you will ever forget.

For her this to work, Jordan would have to be sensual, naughty and fun—everything the guidebook recommended. Well, at least she could fake it. When she’d found the high-school drama class, she’d found herself. As long as she put on an act, as long as she’d played a role, she’d become confident and outgoing and even somewhat popular. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the way she wanted people to see her was just another stage personality.

Her grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary was a little over a week away. She needed David by her side. She needed him to perpetuate her lie. Otherwise, she could already hear her cousin’s snide taunts if she had to show up alone and admit that her engagement was a fraud.

She could do this. She had to do this. It would give her the chance to discover her wild side. And it would save her a week of awkward questions and embarrassment. If she could act in high school and all through college and at the office, she could do it in the bedroom.

Jordan grabbed a notepad and began making a list of things she would need to make the Strangers fantasy a reality.

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