“Will I do?” Greg asked, joining her on the bed

Suzanne studied him, and even in the pale light from the candles, he could see that her cheeks were rosy with excitement. “You’ll more than do,” she said in that smoky voice. Then her lips curved. “You’ll do…me.”

Greg’s heart raced as he returned that saucy smile. “I sure will, sweetheart.” Then, giving her a questioning look, he picked up a strand of tinsel. “Only, you seem to be covered in silver….”

“You wouldn’t let me put icicles on the tree, so—”

“I like them much better here.” He captured several stands lying across the swell of her breast and drew them back and forth over her bare skin. Then he leaned down and ran his tongue along the edge of her bra.

“That tickles.” Suzanne’s skin grew warm and flushed, and she began to quiver beneath him. “The icicles were a little joke,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t realize it would feel like…this…when you took them off.”

“It feels good, then?” he asked, picking icicles from her garter belt and dipping his tongue into her navel.

“Only one thing could feel better,” she said, drawing him down to her. “And I can’t wait until Christmas to experience it….”

Dear Reader,

Don’t you love this time of year? Holiday spirits rise as temperatures dip (yes, even in Arizona) and we can find so many interesting ways to keep warm. I don’t know about you, but I think the words snuggle and cuddle were invented for nights like these. When the cold wind blows, you have a perfect excuse to lure that man of yours over to the fire, or under a goose-down comforter. After all, you wouldn’t want the poor guy to catch a chill.

And once you have him where you want him, may I recommend a little Temptation Heat? I guarantee that the blaze created in these pages by Greg and Suzanne will warm him up faster than any snifter of brandy or cup of hot chocolate. As bedtime stores go, The Nights Before Christmas isn’t the sort to lull your sweetie to sleep. But that’s not the idea, now, is it?

Happy Holiday Nights,

The Nights Before Christmas
Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

This book is dedicated to all the mothers and daughters, sisters and aunts who make the holidays happen. You deserve a nice, hot love story and a few hours to savor it. Take a break!

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

Chapter 16

Epilogue

1

“SUZANNE, you need a rebound guy.” Terri Edwards took a swig from her water bottle without breaking stride on the treadmill next to Suzanne’s. She was in fabulous shape, which allowed her to converse normally.

Suzanne definitely could not converse normally, and holding her water bottle was out of the question. She could barely stay upright on the relentless monster, let alone form sentences. “A…rebound…guy?” She’d never have guessed a treadmill could be such a challenge, or that weight-lifting machines could be so…heavy.

The gym had looked impressive when she walked in, with its bright lights, cheery colors and the aroma of good honest sweat coming from dedicated folks wearing spandex and headbands. Besides, they’d had the cutest Christmas tree sitting on the sign-in desk. Suzanne had no idea where they’d found miniature barbells and jogging shoes for the decorations, but she’d been captivated. To top it off, her favorite Christmas song, “Carol of the Bells,” had poured from the sound system, right on cue.

She’d taken it as a sign, and with Terri’s encouragement, she’d put her name and her Visa card on the dotted line. Joining a health club had seemed like a good idea an hour ago. Exercise lifted the spirits, or so she’d heard.

“A rebound guy,” Terri repeated. “Great body, not into commitment, somebody you wouldn’t think of dating under normal circumstances. With a guy like that in your life for a few weeks, you’ll soon be over Jared.”

“I am…over Jared.” She tripped and grabbed onto the rail for dear life. “I just…have…too much…free time.”

Terri glanced at her. “You’re walking on a slant there, babe. Pretty soon you’ll be horizontal. Better get your feet under you.”

“Right.” She gritted her teeth and scrambled to catch up with the moving belt. Then she went too far and had to backpedal so she wouldn’t fall on her butt.

“Let’s take five.” Terri leaned over and turned off Suzanne’s treadmill.

“Thank you.” Suzanne hung on the rail and panted as the sound system belted out “Jingle Bell Rock.” The unrelenting cheer was getting on her nerves. “Thank you for saving my life.” She gazed over at Terri. “Did I ever tell you I hate escalators, too? And those moving sidewalks at O’Hare give me hives. I’m not cut out for the gym, Terri. Nice thought, but I’m ready to retire my spandex and take up stamp collecting.”

“Nonsense. It’s your first day. Besides, you’re already paid up for a year. Come on, we’ll get something at the juice bar and then take a turn on the stair-climbers.”

The juice bar sounded excellent. A real honest-to-goodness bar sounded even better. Hot coffee laced with Baileys and she’d be a happy woman. She stepped off the treadmill with caution, but even so, the ground seemed to be moving when she tried to walk.

“You forgot your water bottle and your towel.” Terri draped the towel around Suzanne’s neck and put the water bottle in her hand before guiding her over to a stool at the juice bar. “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you’d never been in a gym before.”

Suzanne shook her head. “Nope, wasn’t kidding.”

“How do you keep from getting fat? No, don’t answer that. You’re one of those high-metabolism types I love to hate, and I don’t even want to hear about it.”

“I guess.” Suzanne eased onto the stool. Her whole body still vibrated.

“I ate two rum balls at the office Christmas party last night, and if I don’t put in an extra ten minutes on the stair-climbers, those rum balls will go straight to my hips.” Terri hopped on the stool next to Suzanne’s. “Get the mango-strawberry madness. It’s terrific.”

Suzanne ordered the mango-strawberry madness, and discovered it wasn’t bad, but a Baileys and coffee would have been ten times better. She tried not to think of the money she’d shelled out for a year’s membership at this torture club. She planned to spend two days downstate with her mother over Christmas, which was three weeks away. She hadn’t been looking forward to the visit, but now it gave her a legitimate excuse to skip an evening at the gym.

Terri patted her arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll get into the swing of it. And even if you don’t need the exercise to lose weight, you’ll feel tons better once you’re used to moving your body more. Deep breathing does so much for stress and anxiety, believe me. Desk jobs are not good for our health.”

“Being in this gym with all these machines produces stress and anxiety in me,” Suzanne said. “Maybe I’ll get back into coin collecting. I used to love that as a kid. Somewhere in my storage unit I should still have the—”

Terri groaned and dropped her head to the counter.

“What? I’m talking about a perfectly acceptable hobby here. Lots of people are into it these days, with the new quarters coming out. In fact, I’ve even started saving them.”

Raising her head, Terri gazed at Suzanne. “You do not need a hobby. You need a man.”

Sure enough, the concept made her stomach tighten, as it had ever since Jared’s departure. “I’ll get one of those, too, sooner or later. Right now I’d rather look for quarters.”

“How will you ever get a man at the rate you’re going? It’s been six months, and you refuse to let anybody fix you up. More than that, you walk around with this do-not-touch attitude that would warn off any guy but the terminally obtuse. I say you’re gun-shy.”

Suzanne opened her mouth to object.

“I don’t blame you,” Terri continued. “Jared wasn’t very sensitive about the breakup.”

“If you’re referring to his comment that I’m an anal-retentive ice queen, I guess you could say that.” Suzanne had taught herself to repeat the phrase with a smile to show that she wasn’t bothered by it anymore. Which, of course, she was.

“That comment only reveals Jared’s insecurities,” Terri said.

“Absolutely.” And hers, she thought. In the year she was with Jared she’d never been able to get into his rhythm. Her struggle to keep up with Jared’s expectations had been a lot like trying to keep up with the treadmill tonight. Jared belonged to a gym like this one. He liked loud parties, action-adventure movies and marathon sex.

They’d never been right for each other, but he’d convinced her that they would be once she learned to loosen up. She’d never learned. Having him gone was a relief, which told her that she’d never really loved him, just the idea of being in love.

But she missed little things, like the scent of his aftershave in the bathroom, the rumble of male laughter, the comfort of cuddling on the couch. Jared hadn’t been much for that, but he’d managed it on a few rainy afternoons.

Terri stirred her rosy drink with a straw. When she spoke, her tone was careful. “Have you ever heard anybody in our apartment building mention Greg?”

“The handyman? What kind of mention?”

“I mean, like, mention.”

“Uh, no.” Whenever she thought of the handyman, she always felt a thrill of forbidden pleasure. Her first glimpse of him shortly after moving in had sent a jolt of sexual awareness through her. She’d never had that kind of reaction to a man before.

Since then she indulged in a secret fantasy life with Greg, and that was so unlike her. Even when she’d become involved with Jared, she’d sometimes pretended that he was Greg. She’d had more than one X-rated dream about him, and lately they’d become more frequent. But she had no intention of acting on those dreams. She wasn’t the type to make the first move.

“You think I should go out with the handyman?” As if she could work up the nerve to ask him. Not in a million years.

“Not go out, exactly.” Terri studied her. Then she lowered her voice. “You have to promise to keep what I tell you absolutely confidential. Greg’s a nice guy, and he’d lose his job if his boss heard about it.”

“Heard about what?” A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her latest dream had been the hottest one yet. They’d been in the shower…

“Remember when I had that nasty breakup with Lenny?”

Suzanne brought her attention back to the conversation. “Look, I agree you bounced back from that faster than I’m recovering from Jared, but it’s not the same—”

“I have Greg to thank for that miraculous rebound,” Terri said.

“You do?” The shiver became a delicious tingle in her belly. She’d assumed that Greg had a girlfriend. Anybody that good-looking was bound to be taken.

“Keep your voice down.” Terri leaned closer. “Jennifer, up in 24C, let me in on the secret. It seems that Greg specializes in mending the broken hearts of the career girls in our building.”

“You mean…?” So he wasn’t taken. Instead, he was something of a Casanova, which was disappointing. He looked more like a one-woman kind of guy. In her dreams, he’d vowed to love only her.

“I certainly do mean,” Terri said. “He’s great, Suzanne. The perfect rebound man. He’s gorgeous and understanding, plus he knows a relationship will never go anywhere considering the big difference in lifestyles. He seems to like it that way.”

“That’s totally amazing.” She would never have the courage to take advantage of the situation and go to bed with Greg, of course. A man with that much experience would intimidate the heck out of her. But knowing about his extracurricular activities put a whole new spin on her fantasies about him. Obviously he wasn’t her secret soul mate, which had been a girlish idea in the first place. “It’s like an urban legend or something.”

“I know. There’s a kind of sisterhood in the building, and we’re all sworn to silence, to protect Greg’s job. By telling you, I’m letting you into that sisterhood, and you must never, ever say anything unless you’re absolutely sure that you’ve found another woman in our complex who needs Greg’s services, someone you consider to be completely trustworthy.”

“I understand. And thanks for trusting me that much.”

“I do, or I wouldn’t have said anything. But you have to approach Greg and make it clear that you won’t put his job in jeopardy. He will never make the first move, which is understandable. The usual procedure is to ask him to fix something in your apartment, and while he’s there, you begin talking about your breakup. He’ll take it from there.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Can’t you? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the body on that man.”

Suzanne blushed. “Oh, I can imagine that.” Actually, her dreams were very explicit, giving her the shape and size of Greg’s considerable endowments. “I can’t imagine making the first move with him, I mean. Initiating the contact. That’s not my strong suit, anyway, and in this case, I barely know the guy.” And he was way different from what she’d thought.

“That’s the beauty of it.” Terri shoved her empty drink aside. “We’re not talking about anything long-term, anyway. A quick repair, and you’re on your way.”

“No, I couldn’t.” It sounded somewhat shallow, yet thrillingly naughty, too. But sexual flings weren’t her style. Fantasies were one thing, but turning them into reality led to heartache, like her parents’ divorce.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Terri said. “Think about it. This has been going on for at least two or three years, which means Greg’s had an intensive course in how to patch up a girl’s ego.”

Not to mention his extensive experience in making the rest of her hum like a top. The concept turned Suzanne on, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“You’ll never hear Greg saying that someone’s an anal-retentive ice queen,” Terri continued. “I’ll vouch for the fact that he’s incredibly romantic. I’m guessing he was before, but after hearing about the crummy things guys say and do, he really knows what makes women happy.”

Suzanne looked at her friend with her perky blond ponytail and her red and purple workout clothes. Terri was a take-charge woman if she’d ever seen one. Suzanne, on the other hand, let things come to her. She had to admit that some of the things that came to her weren’t always terrific, like Jared, for example. He’d initiated the relationship, probably because of his egotistic belief that he could change her into a sex kitten.

“It’s a good idea, Suzanne,” Terri said.

“You know, I can picture you following through with this, because you go after what you want. But I’m—I’m not that good at putting myself out there.”

Terri gazed at her. “I know, sweetie. That’s partly why I suggested the gym. There’s nothing passive about it.”

“You are so right, and look at me! I’m miserable, a fish out of water. I don’t think this is a quick fix, Terri. I’ve been a cautious type for a long, long time, which explains why I’m a financial analyst instead of in the sales division with you. But it was great of you to trust me with the information. I promise the secret is safe with me.”

“Listen, you need to break your pattern and latch onto this. You really—”

“Let’s try the stair-climbers.” It was a radical way to end the conversation, considering how much she dreaded the stair-climbers, but another round on one of Terri’s beloved exercise machines might be the only way they’d table the discussion of Greg, the rebound man.

SUZANNE MANAGED to survive the stair-climbers and the rowing machine, although her muscles had a little chat with her and promised to punish her for this craziness later. Terri didn’t bring up the subject of Greg again until they walked into the lobby of their apartment building.

In the past, Suzanne had felt reassured whenever she walked into the redbrick complex. Its sturdy, Midwestern architecture and its location near Northwestern University appealed to her more than some of the glass and steel apartments out by Lake Michigan.

The lobby contained live plants instead of silk, and this time of year, a fresh Christmas tree filled the small area with the scent of pine. The lobby furniture reminded her of the upholstered pieces her parents used to have when she was a kid, before the divorce, back when life had been safe. She’d rented an apartment here because it felt secure, but now that she knew about Greg, that sense of homey security had vanished. In its place was a disturbing undercurrent of unbridled sensuality.

The idea of unbridled sensuality had always made her nervous. She always assumed that was what had led her father to take up with his young secretary, thus destroying life as Suzanne and her brother, Bill, had known it.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” Terri said as they stepped into the elevator.

“No,” Suzanne said. That was a lie. Whenever she hadn’t been reviewing the damage she was doing to her poor body, she’d been thinking about Greg and his fascinating sideline.

“You’re doing yourself a disservice if you don’t check him out.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, more to keep Terri quiet than anything. She had no intention of following through on this hot tip. She’d love to wipe her brain free of the whole concept, but that didn’t seem likely, not when this was the most bizarre factoid she’d been given in quite a while.

Before Terri could continue her infomercial for Greg, the elevator stopped at the third floor and Suzanne got off, gym bag in hand. “See you in the morning, assuming I can still walk.”

“You’ll be fine. Soak in those herbal bath salts I gave you for your birthday.”

“I will.” Once the elevator door closed, Suzanne allowed herself to sag a little. That workout had been murder, and she no more wanted to go back to the gym in two days than row around Lake Michigan in a dinghy. Come to think of it, rowing around the lake might be easier, even taking into consideration the iced-over parts. And she’d paid good money for this gym madness, which made no sense at all.

But she would go back, because once someone had pushed her into an activity the way Terri had with this gym caper, Suzanne tended to hang in for the duration. She might not be much of a self-starter, but once she got going, she was no quitter.

Soaking in the herbal bath salts was an excellent suggestion, though. She opened her apartment door and locked it carefully behind her. The apartment was as tidy as she’d left it. During her Jared period that rarely had been the case. Besides tossing his things around in a helter-skelter way, a trait she’d struggled to accept, he’d made fun of her Virgo tendency to want everything neat. Now that he was gone and the effects of his overwhelming personality had faded enough to give her some perspective, she realized that his comments had hurt her. Besides, it was her apartment, and she liked being able to find things.

Jared, whose parents were still married, didn’t understand how order comforted her. Her parents’ divorce had been messy, with many terrible arguments. Ten years later, her mother still felt a lot of resentment. Suzanne hadn’t been able to tidy up any of that, but she could at least keep her surroundings peaceful. To that end, she’d worked hard to decorate this one-bedroom nest of hers. The white-on-white design scheme worked best when it was uncluttered. Her single accent of color was a red velvet pillow set on a diagonal in the middle of her ivory couch.

The color scheme also worked with her Christmas decorations. For several years she’d waged a quiet battle to reclaim the joy she used to feel during the holidays. She hadn’t quite captured it yet, but she wasn’t about to give up.

A three-foot tree sat in a corner on a skirted table. She’d considered white lights and white decorations to go with her furniture, but in the end she’d used multicolored lights and ornaments, much like the ones her parents used when she was growing up. The carved nativity scene on top of her TV cabinet was new this year. She had no idea what had happened to the one her parents used to have, but because her mother got teary-eyed whenever Suzanne brought it up she’d settled for one that resembled the old version she remembered.

She’d also won a poinsettia at the office Christmas party, and it looked festive on her coffee table. The room had a holiday feel, although nothing like her parents’ house used to be this time of year. These days her mother had to be coaxed to even put up a tree.

Still carrying her gym bag, Suzanne walked back to the bedroom. She couldn’t remember ever being quite this tired, but soaking in the tub might keep her from waking up crippled in the morning. Although her movements were slow, eventually she stripped down and had water running in the tub.

Then she opened the cabinet under the sink to take out the jar of bath salts. The jar sat in a puddle of water.

She stared at the puddle for several seconds while the water continued to thunder into the tub. Surely the universe didn’t work this way. But a steady drip from the U-joint under the sink told her otherwise.

Taking a towel from the rack, she tucked it under the drip. That would do for now. If she changed the towel regularly, she could put off the inevitable for a few days. But she wasn’t the kind of person who could tolerate a dripping pipe for very long.

Not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow night, but eventually she’d need to call the handyman.

WHEN SUZANNE TALBOT CALLED about the leak under her bathroom sink, Greg’s pulse leaped. He’d had a secret yen for the woman in 36C every since he passed her in the hallway about eighteen months ago. Since then he’d been keenly aware of her whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity.

He’d developed a fascination for the way her mahogany-colored hair curled at the slightest hint of dampness in the air. She usually tried to tame it with a bow, a clip or a scrunchie, but a few times he’d seen it rippling down to her shoulders, and the sight had made him catch his breath.

The same conservative streak that caused her to imprison her hair seemed to rule her choice in clothes. Although she had a lush figure, he’d only discovered that by strategic observation. During the work week she wore business suits in neutral colors, favoring black. And on weekends her outfits were often baggy sweats and oversize shirts. She seemed determined to minimize her sex appeal.

That only made her more intriguing to Greg. When he’d finally had a chance to look into her eyes one day, he’d been hooked. He’d always been partial to blue eyes and Suzanne’s were Siamese-cat blue. But it was the intelligence shining from those eyes that nearly made him break his rule never to date someone living in this building.

Then the stockbroker, Jared, had come on the scene, saving Greg from making that mistake. Reason had prevailed. He couldn’t afford to let himself care more than superficially about any of the single women who lived here. They were all career types with what must be high-paying jobs in order for them to afford the rent.

Talking to them and counseling them about their love lives was risky enough. Yet he hated to give up the satisfaction he got from bolstering their self-esteem after their overpaid, overeducated boyfriends had screwed up the relationship. That didn’t mean he had any intention of taking it beyond friendship. He wasn’t about to get physical with these women, even though a few had come on to him.

Sure, they might want fun and games now, and they certainly tempted him, but he’d been able to put aside the physical attraction and listen carefully to what they said. Very carefully. By listening, he inevitably learned that these career-minded women would never settle for a handyman with no college education. In the end they’d either dump him the way Amelia had, or they’d try to fix him. He was not changing his lifestyle to suit someone else, not when he’d made peace with his demons and liked the path he’d chosen. Even someone like Suzanne Talbot, who seemed to be everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, wasn’t enough of a reward for him to give up the identity he’d carved out for himself.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he picked up the heavy wooden toolbox he’d inherited after his father died and climbed the fire stairs to the third floor. Shoot, he was such a maverick that he didn’t even like elevators. A guy couldn’t get very far in the corporate world if he didn’t like riding in elevators. Most of the cushy jobs were on the top floor, and climbing the stairs would leave sweat stains on the Armani.

When he thought of it that way, he was able to see that Amelia had done him a favor by dumping him when he’d decided to leave college and give his savings to his widowed mother. If Amelia had stuck with him, he probably would have worked his tail off to earn more money and go back to school so he could be part of her world. He’d be in the rat race for sure by now. The thought made him shudder.

He might have ended up like Jared, perish the thought, with a cell phone constantly at his ear and self-importance that wouldn’t quit. Fate hadn’t seen fit to give him a lot of material possessions, and along the way he’d discovered they weren’t important to him, anyway.

Greg didn’t keep track of all the comings and goings in the building, but he made a point of knowing what was up with Suzanne. He’d become aware soon after the fact that her stockbroker boyfriend wasn’t around anymore. A guy like that was hard to miss when he showed up, so the place was decidedly quieter without him. Cell phones and self-importance aside, Greg hadn’t liked the way Jared had seemed to intimidate Suzanne.

Plus, he seemed unable to laugh at himself, which Greg thought was a major failing, especially for a woman like Suzanne who appeared to be very sensitive. Greg had been summoned one Saturday when Jared had gone for a jog and locked himself out while Suzanne was at the grocery store. Somehow the jerk had managed to blame Suzanne for the problem.

With the overbearing stockbroker gone, Greg figured Suzanne was better off. But she might be feeling blue, and she was good friends with Terri, so Terri had probably suggested she talk with him.

Which was okay. He enjoyed the mental stimulation. The flirting was okay, too. Terri was one of the women who’d kissed him, and he’d kissed back. A guy couldn’t be blamed for enjoying a kiss now and then. But in Terri’s case, as in every case, he’d gently eased away from taking the relationship any further.

Although he told himself to stay cool, Greg rang Suzanne’s doorbell with keen anticipation.

2

GREG NOTICED RIGHT AWAY that Suzanne hadn’t changed into something more comfortable in honor of his arrival. She was still in full business dress, wearing her black suede suit like a coat of armor. A black velvet bow held her mahogany-colored hair back in a no-nonsense style.

There wasn’t a single casual thing about her as she stood in the doorway of her apartment. She’d even left on her black pumps, something he thought most women kicked off the minute they walked through the door. He wondered if she had an appointment somewhere. Maybe she didn’t intend to stay here and pour her heart out, after all. Maybe her sink really had sprung a leak.

The disappointment he felt was another warning—he should be very careful with this one. “Do you need to leave soon?” he asked. “Because I can fix the leak while you’re gone.” He grinned at her in an attempt to ease the lines of anxiety in her expression. “You don’t have to worry about the silverware. I’m bonded.”

“Uh, no, I don’t need to go anywhere.” Without returning his smile, she stepped away from the door. “Come in.”

“You looked so together, I thought you might be on your way out.”

“Not really.”

“Good.” So they’d talk. Just talk. Kissing Suzanne would be far more dangerous than kissing Terri had been.

He walked into the room and registered the white-on-white decor. She hadn’t needed anything repaired since she’d moved in, so other than a brief glimpse when he’d let the stockbroker in that Saturday about six months ago, he’d had no idea how she’d fixed up the place.

The scent of pine drew his attention to the corner where her little tree twinkled. Because he’d pegged her as an orderly person, he wasn’t surprised that the strings of lights and ornaments were hung in perfect symmetry. He pictured her squinting at the finished product to make sure that there were no bald spots or color clashes.

“I like your tree.” He gave her another smile.

“Thanks.” This time she smiled back, but she still looked very nervous.

He was impressed that she had a tree at all, though, considering that last Christmas she’d been part of a couple and this year she was alone. Apparently she wasn’t about to let that stop her from celebrating, and he was glad to discover that. Her perky little evergreen shone like a badge of courage in the corner of her living room.

He’d expected the place to be immaculate, and it was. The red pillow sitting in the middle of her white sofa was fascinating, though. From the psychology texts he’d read, that pillow in the middle of all the virginal white said something about her sexuality. An erotic nature might be hiding under the sensible surface.

But he wasn’t here to uncover her erotic nature. First he’d tighten the pipe connection that she probably loosened on purpose, and then he’d listen to her complain about her ex-boyfriend. Maybe he’d suggest ordering up some Chinese food. He’d be a shoulder for her to cry on—figuratively in this case—reassuring her that she was too good for the chump who’d left her.

Still, her appearance threw him. She didn’t look like a woman about to let her hair down.

“The pipe’s been leaking for three days.” She led the way toward the bathroom. “This is the first chance I’ve had to call you.”

Another unexpected comment. She didn’t strike him as the type to make up a story about a pipe that had been leaking for three days. That was carrying the charade a little too far. But maybe she had more imagination than the other women he’d dealt with. Or maybe she loosened the pipe, lost her nerve and then had to spend three days working up to the call.

If so, then he’d enjoy helping her rebuild her confidence. Platonically, of course. Always platonically.

In order to get to the bathroom, he had to walk through her bedroom. It was very girly, with rose-printed fabric covering the quilt, armchair and curtains in shades of red and pink. But there, nestled against the pillows, was the devil himself.

He was a cute little doll dressed in bright red velvet, with a mischievous grin on his face and The Devil Made Me Do It written across his chest. Uh-huh. As he’d suspected from his first glimpse of Suzanne, still waters ran deep.

Her bedroom held the subtle scent of roses, but her bathroom was drenched in it. When he walked in, he was bombarded with an image of Suzanne, naked, spritzing the perfume in strategic places. The Devil Made Me Do It. The devil was having a field day with him right now, thumbing his nose at all those platonic vows Greg had taken.

Trying to calm his libido, he crouched in front of the cabinet under the sink and opened the oak doors. A steady drip had made a round spot on the pink towel she’d laid under the pipe. There was nothing erotic about that spot, and yet his mind leaped from damp towels to the image of Suzanne stepping out of a steamy shower, glistening and wet.

He could assume that Suzanne had called him because she needed a shoulder to cry on. He’d known she was shy, so meeting him in full career-dress mode made sense, now that he thought about it. Suzanne wouldn’t be the sort to let down her guard easily, but he had a knack for helping women open up and confide in him.

Assuming he used that talent with Suzanne, he wondered how well he’d be able to control himself once she opened up to him and became soft and vulnerable. He wondered if he’d be able to ignore the implications of that red pillow and that suggestive doll in the middle of her bed. He wondered how much trouble he could get into if he ignored the implications, if he broke all his rules, followed his instincts and took this fascinating woman to bed.

A lot of trouble, no doubt. But this time it might be worth the risk.

“Is it a bigger problem than I thought?” Suzanne asked from the bathroom doorway.

“No.” He cleared the huskiness from his throat. “Minor stuff, it looks like.” He got to his knees and fumbled with the latch on his toolbox. After getting it open with far more awkwardness than usual, he took out a small flashlight and beamed it up toward the source of the leak. That’s when he found the rust that was causing it.

Suzanne certainly hadn’t rusted the pipe. Much as he hated to admit it, she hadn’t booby-trapped her sink in order to lure him into her apartment. Her call had been legitimate.

Damn.

THE MINUTE GREG STEPPED into her apartment, Suzanne realized she should have announced that she had an urgent appointment and vamoosed. She thought about asking him to fix the sink while she was gone, but she was…curious. Besides, her apartment was too private a place to let somebody she barely knew walk around by himself, especially someone with a reputation like Greg’s.

For one thing, he might find her stash of sexy novels. Jared had made great fun of those. He’d insisted that reading them meant she’d rather get her kicks vicariously than with a living, breathing man. He’d also claimed that no real guy ever acted the way the men did in those books. He was probably right about that, because she hadn’t found any so far.

But she should have risked having Greg poke around by himself, because being here with him was a colossal mistake. He smelled too good, too masculine, a combination of lime-scented shaving cream and Old Spice. Nothing fancy for this guy. Much as she didn’t want him to, he was turning her on.

She could still leave, of course. She could, but she was already entranced, a deer in the headlights. When he leaned in to turn off the water valve under the sink, his biceps rippled. She’d seen plenty of rippling biceps at the gym both nights she’d dragged herself there with Terri this week, but the guys at the gym were flexing on purpose. A casual, unconscious ripple was so much sexier.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Water, coffee, a soft drink?” A condom?

“No, thanks.” He sat on the floor and chose a wrench from his toolbox.

The authoritative way he grasped the wrench caused little jolts of excitement to dance in her stomach. Her ideal lover would have sure hands like Greg’s, a firm yet gentle touch. She admired his long, tapered fingers and the fine sprinkling of dark hair on the backs of his hands.

He wore a utilitarian watch, the kind you could buy at the drugstore, and no rings. The lack of rings came as no surprise after what Terri had said. He was a Don Juan of the big city, a man who wanted no entanglements.

There would be a certain freedom in making love to someone with that attitude. She wouldn’t have to worry about whether he would make a good husband or a good father, or even a good impression on her mother. Most of all she wouldn’t have to worry about whether he would leave her, because no commitment would exist in the first place. The sex would be about mutual pleasure and nothing else.

It was a whole new concept for her. Up to now she’d scrutinized every man in her life for warning signs that they would eventually treat her the way her father had treated her mother. No wonder she hadn’t ever fully relaxed sexually with a man. So much had been at stake. With Greg, nothing at all would be at stake, and she might finally have the kind of experience she’d read about in her novels.

He glanced up at her. “Maybe you should go ahead and have dinner.”

She looked away, afraid that with his experience he might be able to guess her thoughts. “That’s okay. I had a late lunch.” Maybe he’d misinterpreted her hungry look. Food was the last thing on her mind right now.

“My plan is to dismantle this baby and take it downstairs to see if I have a replacement part. I’m not sure how soon I’ll have it back in operation, so I hope that’s not a problem.”

She couldn’t keep avoiding his gaze forever, as if she lacked any self-confidence. So instead she looked at him with the same directness she’d use with a colleague at work. “No problem.”

There were questions lurking in those green eyes of his. He probably wondered when she’d start getting personal. He might even be giving her more time to feel comfortable with him by drawing out the repair process.

She’d never feel that comfortable. Suzanne Talbot did not fall into bed with a man she hardly knew. “What’s your last name?” The question popped right out of its own accord.

“Stone.” Warmth flickered in his gaze. “Thanks for asking.”

Heat flooded her face. “I’m not sure why I did. I guess it doesn’t really mat—”

“Sure it does. It always does.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he leaned back and squirmed under the sink until his head and shoulders were nearly out of sight.

She appreciated his tact in partially disappearing so that she could pull herself together again. Now that she’d asked his last name, he probably thought it was only a matter of time before she invited him to spend the night. He might expect her to use this moment to change into something more revealing.

She wouldn’t be doing that, but maybe she’d indulge her curiosity a little more by checking him out when he couldn’t see her do it. It wasn’t every day that she had a chance to study a certified loverboy up close and personal.

He wore his navy T-shirt tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and no belt. Well, belts were an unnecessary impediment, after all. This looked like a man who appreciated simplicity when it came to clothes that might need to be shed quickly in the heat of passion.

As she watched, he lifted his pelvis and shifted to the left to get a better angle on the pipe. The front of his shirt came untucked and rode up, exposing a neat belly button. An insy.

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she stared at that belly button. Such an intimate part of a person, a belly button. A smattering of dark hair decorated the area around it. He inhaled, causing a slight gap between his flat belly and the waistband of his jeans. A gap just big enough for a woman to slip her hand into, if a woman were so inclined….

She moistened her lips. She wasn’t even remotely that daring. Besides, he wouldn’t be expecting something like that, and he’d probably sit up suddenly and bean himself on the water pipe.

But she could imagine doing it, and that was enough to get her juices flowing. His jeans were old and the denim looked soft. As he shifted his weight again, the material tightened over his crotch and she gained an excellent idea of exactly what lay behind that button fly.

Greg looked like such a bad boy, and now that Terri had confided in her, Suzanne knew that he was absolutely as bad as all that. Even if she had the courage to come on to him, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t know what to do with such powerful badness.

But Terri had said that he was understanding and very romantic. In that case, she wouldn’t have to know everything. He would know everything, just like the men in the novels she loved.

Yet if she managed to start an affair with Greg, who had become a legend in her apartment building, and she still turned out to be an anal-retentive ice queen, what then? She’d probably never date again. She’d channel all her energies into her career, become the best financial analyst in Chicago, make piles of money and live alone in some opulent penthouse with her twenty-nine cats. Rich but pathetic.

If there was the slightest chance she’d blow it with Greg, she’d be far better off blundering along as she’d been doing. The situation reminded her of when she’d had a funky Honda Civic with lots of miles on it. She’d loved that car, but one day it wouldn’t go. A boisterous jock from high school, somebody much like Jared, had talked her into letting him give her a jump. He must have done something wrong, because he’d burned out the electrical system.

Getting involved with Greg was a jump start that might blow out her entire electrical system, and she’d have to be towed in, just like that Honda. She was already feeling road-weary after two nights at the gym with Terri. In her present condition she probably wouldn’t be able to have sex without pulling a muscle, anyway.

So why, with all those considerations, was she staring at Greg’s crotch and getting damp and achy? She liked the shape of his legs, too—long and lean. He wore scuffed running shoes that were some off-brand she didn’t recognize, and no socks. His lack of pretense was very appealing, especially after she’d spent so much time with Jared, who was terminally fashion-conscious.

Sex with Greg would mean stripping the act down to its primary motivation—one man, one woman, pure lust. She could guess from Greg’s manner of dress and his general attitude that he wouldn’t care what brand of mineral water she had in the fridge or whether her sheets had a Calvin Klein label.

She didn’t know how she’d fare in the pure-lust department. In her experience, sex had always been more complicated than that. But watching Greg twist his body as he wrestled with the pipe fitting, listening to his grunt of satisfaction when he wrenched the piece free, she certainly felt as if pure lust was a possibility.

As he started to emerge from under the sink, she backed out of the doorway to give him room to maneuver. Here she was, standing conveniently in the bedroom. But even if she chose to start something, she’d have no idea what to say first.

I’ve heard good things about you, Greg. That sounded way too fake, like bad cocktail-party chatter.

I’m between boyfriends right now, Greg. Oh, that was classy. She’d appear to have a spare ten minutes where she could work him in.

I could use a friend, Greg. Better, but not true. She had friends. What she needed was a lover, a lover who would heal her bruised sexual ego.

He emerged from the bathroom holding the rusted pipe wrapped in a rag he must have taken from his toolbox. “Can I leave my tools here for now?”

“Sure.” Now was the time to tell him he didn’t have to rush the job. He could put the pipe down and find something else to do with his hands. She should have asked Terri how she’d handled this awkward moment.

“Okay. Thanks.” He walked past her and out of the bedroom. He was definitely getting away. “Lock up after I leave, though,” he said over his shoulder. “This neighborhood’s pretty safe, but there’s no need to take chances.”

Whatever she needed to say to make him turn around wouldn’t come out of her mouth. “Right.”

“See you in about ten minutes.”

“Okeydokey.” Ten minutes. Time enough to call Terri and get some advice.

The door closed behind him. She walked over and locked it as he’d suggested. He didn’t know that she was very good about locking up. Just ask Jared, who had been caught in the hall without a key.

That doggone Jared—he’d known she was going to the store. She seemed to remember having told him to take a key when he’d left for his run, but maybe she hadn’t. She might have assumed he’d take a key to be on the safe side.

Suzanne was always on the safe side. This whole business with Greg didn’t feel at all safe. She dialed Terri’s number and tapped her foot while waiting for the no-solicitation message to finish. Finally Terri picked up.

“It’s Suzanne,” she said. “Greg is here fixing my sink.”

“Congratulations!”

“It really was leaking, Terri.”

“Sure, sure.” Terri laughed. “Whatever you say, girl. Enjoy.”

“He left to get a replacement part, and he’s coming back. Nothing’s happened yet, and I was wondering how you got from the handyman job to…more personal stuff.”

“Um, well…I said something about how I didn’t understand guys at all, I think. He asked me to elaborate, and we…took it from there.”

“That was a good line.” Suzanne couldn’t imagine coming up with a better one, but she could hardly use Terri’s.

“He’s very sweet,” Terri said. “Don’t angst over this. Just start talking to the guy.”

Anxiety caused her ears to buzz. “You know what? I’m not doing this. I’m not cut out for it.”

“That’s what you said about the gym, and look at you now.”

“Exactly! I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had places. If you’re telling me that getting involved with Greg is like signing up for the gym, then I’m definitely not doing it.”

Terri laughed again. “You’re such a crybaby. Greg won’t be anything like the gym. He’s—”

The doorbell rang and her chest tightened. “He’s back. Bye, Terri.”

“Go for it, Suzanne!”

She wasn’t going to follow Terri’s advice, she decided as she went to answer the door. The sound of Greg ringing the doorbell had nearly made her faint. She didn’t have the chutzpah to carry this off, and that was that.

3

GREG HAD THOUGHT SUZANNE might change clothes while he was downstairs, but nope, she wore the same serious businesswoman outfit as before. The velvet bow was still in her hair, too, and the tidy pumps remained on her feet. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t kicked them off by now.

There was absolutely nothing in her behavior to suggest she wanted to become more friendly with him. He was almost convinced that she had no interest in talking about her personal life. So then why had she asked his last name?

“Luckily I found what I needed,” he said, holding up a section of pipe.

“Great.” She smiled and stood back so he could come in.

That smile was still full of nerves, he thought. Terri had said something to her—he was sure of it. Apparently Suzanne didn’t know quite what to do with the information.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said as he walked through the white living room with its touching little Christmas tree and one red pillow. “You’ll be back in business in no time.”

“That’s good.” She followed him.

He tried to interpret why she trailed after him when the job didn’t require her to be there. He concluded that she was working up to a real conversation.

He gestured toward the devil on his way through her bedroom. “Cute little guy.”

“I thought so, too. He was in the kids’ department at Marshall Field’s, and I couldn’t resist him.”

So she’d bought the devil for herself. If someone had given it to her, someone like Jared, he wouldn’t have placed so much stock in it. But then again, she wouldn’t have had to plop it smack-dab in the middle of her bed, either. The devil said something about her, just like the red pillow in the living room.

Guaranteed, he’d found a shy woman who was hiding a delicious naughty streak. His ultimate fantasy. But if she was shy, she might never become bold enough to cross the barrier between them.

That was really for the best, because the longer he hung around Suzanne, the more he realized that he would definitely have trouble maintaining his distance. Suzanne was too close to his ideal woman for comfort. If she indicated the slightest interest he would be setting himself up for a fall.

Once he got to know her better, she’d probably give herself away like all the others had. Sooner or later she’d ask why he hadn’t finished his degree. When she learned he had no interest in that, she’d either end the connection or keep bugging him about it. He wasn’t about to be harassed.

At least now he knew enough not to repeat the mistake he’d made with Amelia. He was probably an idiot for holding out any hope that he’d find a woman who was smart, ambitious and yet willing to let him live as he chose. Still, the hope wouldn’t completely die.

Suzanne lingered in the doorway of the bathroom as he sat down and prepared to wiggle under the sink again. She reminded him of his cat, Matilda, when he’d first found her as a stray two years ago. Matilda had been timid in the beginning, too, but once he’d won her over she’d turned into an awesome cat. He tended to prefer people and animals who were slow to warm up. Although they presented more of a challenge at first, they usually were more steadfast in the end.

Still, he had the impression that he could fix the sink and leave the apartment without making any real contact with this intriguing woman. Once again, he told himself that was a good thing. He was too attracted to her, and that was dangerous.

But what if Suzanne was different? What if she was the one he’d been looking for? On impulse, he broke a longstanding rule. “I haven’t seen your boyfriend around lately,” he said.

Panic flashed in her blue eyes. “Uh, he—”

“Not that it’s any of my business.” He ducked under the sink, silently cursing himself. He might imagine he knew what was going on with Suzanne, but he could be dead wrong. All he really knew was that the pipe under her bathroom sink had rusted out.

No, that wasn’t true, he thought as he applied plumber’s tape to the threads of the new pipe. He’d bet a million dollars that she hadn’t been the one who walked out of the relationship. And, as his experience taught him, now she was doubting herself, doubting her ability to attract and keep a man. Restoring the confidence of women in that position had become his stock-in-trade recently, and he knew that he did it well.

In spite of the risk, he wanted to help Suzanne, but he couldn’t if she didn’t want him to. So far she’d given no indication that she wanted his sympathy and counsel. He inserted the new pipe and tightened it down. At least Suzanne’s sink wouldn’t leak anymore. As for the rest of her problems, she’d have to decide whether she needed his assistance.

Crawling back out from under the sink, he checked to see if she was still standing in the bathroom doorway. She wasn’t. He’d scared her off with that remark about Jared. Served him right for jumping the gun.

He turned on the water valve and tested the pipe coupling for leaks. An interesting word—coupling. He hadn’t enjoyed any personal coupling in months, not since the mess with Rachel.

About a year ago he’d stumbled onto a cozy pub, a place where he’d felt instantly at home. The weekly darts tournament had soon become a cherished ritual for him.

Rachel was one of the regular participants and they’d flirted with each other for months. But they never should have gone to bed together. Deep down he’d known that, but he let a couple of beers and her sexy red dress cloud his judgment. Rachel was good-hearted, and she had an amazing body, but she had no intellectual curiosity whatsoever.

That’s when Greg had learned the hard way that if a women didn’t stimulate his mind she wouldn’t stimulate the rest of him, at least not after the first flush of discovery had passed. Rachel, as forgiving a woman as he could hope to find, didn’t seem to hold it against him. The others had obviously taken their cue from her, so he was still welcomed as part of the group. Because his job could be lonely at times, he needed that connection.

While he put away his tools and closed up the toolbox, he thought about the bind he’d created for himself. The women who attracted him, like Suzanne, weren’t likely to want a guy who was content to remain a handyman for the rest of his life. But women like Rachel, who thought his job was perfectly acceptable, weren’t brainy enough to satisfy him. He’d boxed himself into a corner, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Walking back through Suzanne’s bedroom, he noticed her suit jacket lying neatly across the end of the four-poster bed. He wondered if that was a subtle signal, and his pulse quickened.

Then he blew out a breath, impatient with himself. Talk about overanalyzing the situation. No doubt she’d decided to cook herself some dinner and didn’t want to do it wearing a suit jacket.

Still, he couldn’t quite dismiss the picture of Suzanne in the bedroom taking off her suit jacket while he was only a few feet away working on the pipe under her bathroom sink. Thinking of Suzanne unfastening buttons and arching her back slightly as she slipped out of the jacket, he experienced a distinct stirring in his groin.

That impulse had required two beers and a slinky red dress in Rachel’s case. Apparently, in Suzanne’s case, all he needed was his own fertile imagination and a black suede jacket lying across the end of a bed of roses.

He took another look at the little red devil on her bed. If only Suzanne hadn’t asked him his last name, he’d be convinced that there was nothing on her mind besides the sink. But she had asked, which made him wonder if the two of them were missing a golden opportunity to get better acquainted.

“See you later, buddy,” he said to the devil, although chances were he never would.

He found Suzanne in the kitchen stirring a saucepan full of tomato soup. By eliminating the jacket, she’d raised the seduction value of her outfit about five hundred percent. The cream-colored blouse had long sleeves with covered buttons down the front and at the cuffs. A silky blouse like that draped a woman’s breasts like nothing else he knew of. He could make out a hint of lace beneath the material, a kind of subtlety that had always driven him a little crazy.

Moist heat from the stove had steamed up the small window over the sink, which seemed to close them into their own private world. If they were lovers, he’d put down his toolbox and walk up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. Then he’d cup her breasts. He swallowed, nearly able to feel the warm silk against his palms. Gradually he’d begin unfastening the buttons…

He cleared his throat. “You’re all set,” he said. “No leaks.”

She glanced up, a wary look in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Had she seemed more relaxed, he might have searched for a reason to stay, but she was as uptight as ever. “I’ll be taking off, then.” He started to leave.

“Would you…”

He turned back. “What?”

Her cheeks were pinker than the roses decorating her comforter. “Would you like some soup?”

He hesitated, unsure if the offer was made from courtesy because he’d caught her in the act of preparing it, or if she genuinely wanted him to stay.

“It’s out of a can,” she said. “It’s not homemade or anything. And I’m keeping it simple.” She nodded toward a cheese board holding a wedge of cheddar and a cheese slicer. Next to that was a basketfull of assorted crackers. “Just crackers and cheese to go with it.”

That decided the issue. No way would he turn down her soup and make her think he cared whether it was canned or not, or whether he was picky about having a full meal. “Thanks. That would be great.” He looked around for a place to put his toolbox.

“Over there by the pantry is fine.”

He set the box down, shoving it out of the way as best he could.

“I’ve never seen a wooden toolbox like that,” she said. “Aren’t they usually made out of metal?”

“The newer ones are,” he said. “This one belonged to my dad.” He couldn’t remember any of the tenants commenting on the box, and he was pleased that she had. The toolbox meant a great deal to him, but to most people, it was only a big wooden carrying case. “Can I help with anything?”

She shrugged. “Not much to do but stir.”

The kitchen was small and narrow, with the stove and refrigerator on one side, the sink and cabinets on the other. He wanted to wash his hands before he ate, but if he stood at the sink, he’d be crowding her, invading her space. Still, going back into the bathroom to wash his hands seemed sort of ridiculous.

“I’d like to wash up, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” She didn’t look up from her vigorous stirring of the soup.

The space between was barely big enough for two people. He was careful not to brush against her as he moved in front of the sink. In such proximity he could smell that rose fragrance of hers, and when he leaned over to wash his hands, his hip brushed against her. He imagined he heard a quick intake of breath and wondered if she’d felt the same jolt of awareness he had.

“Sorry,” he said. He tilted his pelvis toward the sink.

“Not a problem.”

He was a skilled listener, and he heard the tremble in her voice. “They didn’t build these kitchens with two people in mind.” In reality he thought this was the best kind of kitchen for cooking with your lover. He thought large spaces were highly overrated.

Pulling a paper towel from a rack, he noticed that the screws on the rack were loose. “Your towel rack needs to be tightened up,” he said. Yeah, sure. He was looking for an excuse to keep occupying that space.

“Later, maybe. The soup’s ready. If you’ll take the crackers and cheese into the living room, I’ll bring the soup.”

He reached over and picked up the cracker basket and the cheese board before going to stand near the kitchen doorway. “We’re eating in the living room? On that white sofa?” He had a vision of tomato soup all over it.

“It’s stain-proofed.” She turned, reached into the cabinet and took out two large stoneware mugs. When she did that, she grimaced, as if raising her arms hurt her.

“Are you okay?”

She turned in surprise. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You looked as if you were in pain just then.”

“Oh. I’ve been going to the gym with Terri, and my muscles aren’t pleased about it.”

Now he had a new picture to contend with—Suzanne in tight workout clothes. “I don’t think you’re supposed to get sore working out. Do you stretch?” He wondered why anybody with a body like hers felt the need to go to the gym. No body-sculpting machine would be able to improve on those measurements.

“I stretch.” She took the pan from the stove and started pouring the soup into the mugs. “I get in the hot tub. I take herbal baths when I get home.”

He’d bet she did. And now he had a mental image of her doing that. Oh, baby.

She gave him a quick smile. “I’m just not in very good shape. It’ll get better, or at least Terri says it will.”

“A massage might help.” This conversation wasn’t a good idea. Now he imagined Suzanne stretched out on a massage table naked, while someone, preferably him, oiled her up. He’d sent away for a tantric-massage video months ago because he’d always been curious about the discipline. He’d discovered that the video showed him exactly how to massage a woman to orgasm. He’d never tried it.

“Massage might be a good idea.” Her color was high, almost as if she’d been able to peek into his fevered brain. “I’m sure the gym has some people on staff who could handle that.”

“I’m sure.” He didn’t want her to be massaged by some people on staff. He wanted to take care of it, and he wanted to do it now.

She picked up the mugs and glanced at him. “Ready?”

SOUP. SHE’D INVITED HIM to have a bowl of from-a-can soup. How domestic and totally idiotic. When she’d come up with the plan, it had seemed like a great idea for a cold winter night and something she could prepare in a hurry. But Greg was a big guy, and the skimpy meal she’d offered him wouldn’t be more than an appetizer for him. An appetizer for what?

“Should I move the poinsettia?” he asked.

“Um, sure. And the magazines, if you don’t mind. That stuff can go on the end table.”

She waited while he cleared the table and set down the cheese and crackers. He used care with her things, she noticed. Jared would have scooped up everything and dumped it in a pile, knocking leaves off the poinsettia in the process.

Concentrating on the task, she managed to place the mugs on the glass coffee table without spilling a single drop. That was a real feat, because she was still quivering inside from the way he’d looked at her back in the kitchen. She couldn’t remember ever having a man look at her like that, with such total appreciation. With carnal appreciation, to be precise.

She’d always assumed that kind of heated look would make her feel devalued, like a convenient sex object. But that single look, as if he’d enjoy licking every square inch of her, had done more for her self-esteem in two seconds than she could imagine getting in two years at the blasted gym. No, Greg was not like the gym.

But that didn’t mean she planned to go to bed with him. Scorching looks were a long way from scorching touches. But you couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep Greg around a little bit longer. Maybe she didn’t need the full treatment. A few more of those melting looks and she’d be good to go, ready to hit the dating scene, her ego repaired.

It felt great to be sexually desired. Fabulous. She surveyed the coffee table to see what they were missing. “We need napkins. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried to the kitchen and started to grab a couple of paper napkins from the holder on the counter. Then she changed her mind, opened a drawer and took out the bright red cloth napkins she’d bought because they matched the pillow on her sofa. She’d never found the right time to use them.

When she returned, she found him leafing through one of the magazines he’d moved to the end table. “Looks like you’re interested in decorating.”

She sat down, keeping a full cushion’s distance between them, and handed him a napkin. “I like to fool around.”

His glance was warm and knowing as he laid the napkin over his knee. “I can see that.”

Her words echoed in her head and she blushed. “With decorating, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant.” He picked up the mug of soup in those capable hands of his. “And it shows.”

She feared that what was showing was her sexual interest in him. She had to be careful that he didn’t get the wrong idea and act on some silent signal she was giving off. She grabbed the slicer and carved off a piece of cheese. “It’s hard to do much decoration in such a small apartment.” She put the cheese on a cracker so that she’d look as if she actually cared about eating.

Cradling the mug, he gazed at her. “Does that mean you want a big house someday?”

A big house, with a big bed, and a man who looked like Greg lying naked in it. “I suppose I do.” She’d always expected to have a home, and a husband, and a couple of kids. It was the American way.

In between imagining Greg lying naked on a king-size bed, she found herself wondering about his future plans. Maybe he’d asked the question because he was saving money to get a place of his own. “Do you want a big house eventually?” she asked. Then she took a bite of the cracker and cheese she didn’t want but had to pretend to enjoy.

“A house, maybe. Not a really big one, though. I like intimate, cozy spaces.”

She choked on a piece of cracker.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding frantically, she coughed and took a gulp of her soup. Intimate, cozy spaces. The man had a way with words.

He gazed at her with concern. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

She cleared her throat and blinked the moisture from her eyes. “I’m sure. Just took a breath when I shouldn’t have. So you’re hoping to buy a little bungalow, then?”

“Yeah. More like a cottage. I’ll probably always work in the city, but I wouldn’t mind having a vacation place in Wisconsin. On a lake would be terrific. And it has to have a fireplace.”

“Sounds like a nice dream.” Nobody would have to talk Greg into snuggling on the sofa on a rainy afternoon or during a weekend trip to a cottage in Wisconsin. Longing shivered through her. She wanted to be cuddled on a sofa. She wanted to be held, stroked, petted. According to Terri, this man knew how to do the job right.

But he was still a virtual stranger, and she didn’t go to bed with strangers. “You said that toolbox belonged to your dad,” she said. “Was he a handyman, too?”

He looked surprised by the question. “Yeah, he was.”

“So you decided to follow in his footsteps?”

“Not at first. Not until after…” He paused and stared down into his soup. Then he glanced up. “Not at first,” he said again with a smile. “You know how it is. Kids never want to do exactly what the parents do.”

She was positive he’d just made a decision not to tell her something important. Apparently he could talk about his vacation-home plans, but not about his father. He might be willing to take her to bed, but he wasn’t willing to tell her his innermost secrets.

Maybe that’s how a Casanova had to operate. Confiding secrets bonded people together, and Greg wasn’t about that. He was about restoring a woman’s sexual confidence and moving on.

Suzanne knew she ought to just accept the rules of the game. Instead she began to wonder why Greg had chosen this loner lifestyle, and if he protected himself because someone in his past had hurt him. “Do you like the work?” she asked.

“Yes. Yes, I do. The pay’s not great, but I get a place to stay and I’m pretty much my own boss. I also happen to like these older apartment buildings. I take a lot of satisfaction in keeping the place maintained in top condition.”

“I’m sure.” And in his spare time, he did the same for the female tenants, both taking and giving satisfaction. Broken light switch, call Greg. Broken heart, call Greg. But who was this man who rode in on a white horse, saved the day and rode away again? She wanted to know what made Greg Stone tick.

“How about you?” Greg said. “Do you like your job?”

He’d smoothly switched the topic of conversation away from him, and she decided to let him get away with it for now. “Yes, I like it.” He had nicely shaped ears, she thought. Some men enjoyed having a woman run her tongue around the curve of their ear. Others didn’t. She wondered which type Greg was.

“What exactly do you do?” he asked.

His green eyes were mesmerizing. A woman could forget everything if she allowed herself to be caught in that gaze. “I’m a financial analyst with Apollo Mutual Funds,” she said.

He nodded. “I thought you did something like that.”

“Do I look so much like an economics major, then?” she asked with a tight smile. Jared used to taunt her about that. You may love playing with stock-market quotes all day, but you don’t have to look like you do. She’d finally figured out he wanted someone who looked as if she modeled lingerie for a living.

“You do look like an economics major,” Greg said with an answering smile. “And I think—”

“I know. Don’t say it. You think I need to loosen up, dress less conservatively, wear my hair down, stop looking so financial all the time.” She’d tolerated that speech from Jared, but she didn’t have to hear it from the handyman, especially when the handyman kept himself shrouded in mystery.

He took another sip of tomato soup. “I was going to say that I think that looking like a financial analyst is kind of sexy.”

“Sexy?” She glanced down at her cream-colored silk blouse. “Hardly. But then it isn’t my goal to make a sexual statement when I go into the office.”

“It may not be. That doesn’t mean you don’t.”

She met his gaze and suddenly didn’t want to play anymore. “Maybe that sort of flattery works with other women, but I’m not taken in,” she said quietly. “I’m well aware of the type of outfit and behavior that men find sexy, and that’s not where I shine.”

He leaned toward her, his quiet tone matching hers. “Pardon me, Ms. Talbot, but obviously you don’t know your Wall Street Journal from the National Enquirer if you’re going to make a statement like that.”

Her cheeks grew warm. She’d expected him to retreat, not counterattack. And she was gradually becoming aware that his vocabulary didn’t quite fit her image of an uneducated blue-collar worker. “I have some experience in this matter,” she said.

“Not enough, apparently.”

“And you do?” They’d danced around enough, and now she wanted to rip away the curtain he was hiding behind. “Why don’t you tell me what makes you such an authority on the subject of sexual attraction?”

He put down his mug. “Why and how men and women are sexually drawn to each other is one of my favorite topics. I’ve studied it endlessly.”

“Really? In what way?”

His eyes blazed. “I’m going to choose not to answer that, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that when a woman with a great body wears a conservative little suit, many men find it sexy as hell. They’re convinced that a temptress is hiding underneath that businesslike exterior, and they consider it a personal challenge to see if they can strew that uptight outfit all around the room, because nine times out of ten they’re right.”

She drew back, her heart pounding. “But not necessarily. Sometimes they’re wrong.”

“Sometimes,” he said softly.

“They would be wrong about me!”

He studied her for several long seconds. “Would they?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.