 
Stripping it Down

Jami Alden

First published by Kensington Publishing Corporation, 2007

Copyright Jami Alden 2006

Ebook copyright Jami Alden 2015

Ebook published by Jami Alden 2015

Cover Design by Seductive Musings

Ebook Design by KLF Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products or the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

### Chapter 1

The other day my friend "let's call her Sue" came crying to me about the latest disaster in her already-pockmarked love life. He was perfect, she sobbed. Smart. Cute. Employed. (Trust me, that's a new one for her.) On their first date they met for brunch and talked for hours. On their second date he showed up with flowers and took her to the hot new restaurant she mentioned wanting to try.

And afterward he took her back to his ultramodern loft and banged the hell out of her.

You know what happened next, don't you girls?

He said he'd call. Of course, he didn't.

The dog.

But don't be so quick to put this doggie down. The way I see it, it's not his fault. It's hers.

Of course, loving and supportive friend that I am, I didn't tell her so.

But really, when are the Sues of the world going to grow up and stop taking it so hard when the boys they bang merely act as expected?

The flowers, the restaurant? Unoriginal moves to get us in the sack. And once they do, they're off, sniffing another ass like any good dog would.

You know me, I'm not saying don't give them what they want"assuming you get what you want too.

But if you're going to be like Sue and spend the morning after crying over your used condom, save yourself the heartache (and your friends the earache) and stay home with your pocket rocket.

Excerpt from "Stripping it Down: A Modern Girl's Adventures in Dating" by C. Teaser, from online magazine Bustout.com

"Come on, Kit, it's your turn."

Kit Loughlin winced and took another sip of her chardonnay as eleven pairs of eyes gave her their undivided attention. Why did these types of gatherings always degenerate into this?

"Really, there's not much to tell," she protested.

Not that she had any qualms about discussing her sex life, given that she mined it (and embellished it) regularly on a twice-weekly basis for "Stripping It Down."

But telling all under a pseudonym was one thing. Baring all at her best friend Elizabeth's coed bachelorette party was another.

"Come on," Nicole, another bridesmaid, urged. "Everyone else has revealed the sordid details of their first time. You have to go."

Once again she fought the urge to smack Sabrina, the bridesmaid whose stupid idea this game had been in the first place. Why would anyone in her right mind think it was a good idea for a soon-to-be-wed bride and groom to reveal the details of their past sexual encounters? In front of a crowd, no less.

Yet both the bride, Elizabeth, and the groom, Michael, had jumped in with gusto, eagerly regaling their friends with stories of backseat groping and awkward penetration.

Kit had been hoping to skip her turn, purposely removing herself from the giant sectional that dominated the living room of the Mexican villa to take up a post by one of the windows overlooking the beach.

Everyone else had told their story. Now she was trapped.

She ignored a particularly piercing pair of green eyes that seemed intent on boring a hole straight through her.

"C'mon, Kit, don't be such a prude," Elizabeth prodded with a tipsy giggle.

Easy for her to say. When Elizabeth described her first time, she didn't have the distinct pleasure of having the other party in the room staring at her.

Jake Donovan watched her, one dark eyebrow arched, smirking in a way that made her want to smack it off his face. God, if she had known Jake would be joining them on their hedonistic weekend to Cabo, Kit never would have come.

"Yeah," Jake rumbled in a voice that after twelve years still had the power to send waves of heat down her spine, "we all want to know."

She glared at him, six foot four of gorgeous sprawled on the couch in casual arrogance, the perfect genetic blend of his Italian mother and Irish father, with strong, masculine features and green eyes that stood out against his naturally dark skin.

He wasn't even her type"not anymore anyway"in his yuppie uniform of golf shirt and khaki shorts.

She went for artsy, rocker types. Guys who wore Gucci and Prada and product in their hair. Not stuffy venture capitalists with their dark hair cut conservatively short and their all-American ex-football-player brawn draped in the latest corporate logo wear. She met enough of those through her day job as a business reporter for the San Francisco Tribune.

But she couldn't discount the way his eyes glowed against his tan or that his abdomen had none of the softness she'd come to associate with men of his ilk. Unlike his three younger brothers, Jake had left their little town of Donner Lake and never returned, eschewing his father's construction business for an MBA.

But even though he didn't do anything close to manual labor, his biceps strained the sleeves of his golf shirt, veins visible along the swell as he took a sip of Pacifico and grinned.

So he went to the gym in between making millions as a venture capitalist. He still had no right to look so smug. Especially given what she knew about his prowess in the sack.

Or lack thereof.

"Really, there's not much to tell," she repeated, casually taking a seat on the arm of the overstuffed armchair occupied by Michael's brother, Dave. "It was over so quickly I barely remember it."

Jake sat up straighter.

Got your attention, eh, big boy? Suddenly she relished the chance to let Jake know exactly what she thought of his stick-it-in-and-come technique. "It was all very typical, really," she continued. "I was seventeen, and the guy was a friend of my brother's – a few years older, of course, so I'd had lots of time to build up a big, hard crush on him."

All the women in the room affected sympathetic smiles.

"So one night, he shows up at our house looking for my brother. It was summer vacation, and he and my parents had already gone to the city for the weekend." Everyone ooohed. Except for Jake. He was staring at her quizzically, as though he himself didn't know exactly where this was going.

"And this guy, who was totally drunk – although I was too stupid to realize it at the time – tells me some sob story about having a big fight with his girlfriend." She rolled her eyes and took another drink of wine, relishing the way Jake was shifting uncomfortably.

"The next thing I know, he's kissing me, and of course, having the giant crush on him that I do, I don't stop to think that perhaps this is not the best idea." Pausing for maximum impact, she said, "Five rather painful and awkward minutes later, I was watching his bare ass disappear out the front door."

Even the guys winced at that one.

"What happened after that?"

Kit snorted. "Like you have to ask? He got back together with his girlfriend and never talked to me again."

Jake was glaring at her now, his acre-wide shoulders so tight she could see the outline of his muscles straining against the soft cotton of his shirt. She met his glare head on, daring him to dispute any part of her story.

She reached for the bottle of chardonnay and tipped the last of it into her glass. "I'll go get more wine," she said, eager for an excuse to escape the room and Jake's frosty green stare.

She ran down to the wine cellar on shaky legs, praying she wouldn't do a header down the stone staircase. Her pink strappy stiletto sandals certainly didn't help matters. Warning herself to calm down before she broke something, she took the last three steps with extra care and leaned against the cool stone wall of the corridor.

She'd managed to keep it together ever since Jake showed up yesterday morning. After the stunned shock wore off, she'd retreated behind her usual brash friendliness, never hinting that she and Jake were more than casual acquaintances who had gone to high school a few years apart in the same tiny California mountain town.

Leave it to some stupid party game to dredge up twelve-year-old memories best left dead and buried.

What was the fascination with the first time, anyway? For Kit, it had been nothing more than an uncomfortable tearing of a flap of skin and a necessary death of any romantic illusions she might have fallen victim to.

She should be grateful to Jake for that at least. Who knew what kind of asinine things she might have done by now in the name of love?

Taking a deep breath, she shoved uncomfortable thoughts of Jake out of her head and admired the veritable treasure trove of vino that surrounded her. She had to give her best friend's fiancé credit. When Michael took his friends on vacation, he did it in style. The villa he'd rented had eight bedrooms, a full staff, and an infinity pool overlooking Land's End.

Kit was contemplating a bottle of ninety-one pinot noir when she sensed the warmth of another body behind her.

A big, tan hand wrapped around her hip, and hot breath grazed her neck. "Interesting story you told up there, Kit. Funny, I don't remember it going exactly the way you described."

Her whole body stiffened and she struggled not to melt back into his chest. Reaching casually for the bottle, she said, "I think I included all the pertinent details."

"And made up a few. I did put my pants on before I left. Not that you'd know, since you ran upstairs crying and locked yourself in your bedroom."

She turned around, stepping back in an attempt to put more space between them. Her bare back met the cool foil of dozens of bottles. He was so tall she had to tip her head back to see his face. "Considering your performance, can you blame a girl for crying?"

His full, firm lips compressed in a tight line, and he braced his arms on either side of her shoulders. "I never apologized for that night, Kit. It didn't go the way I wanted""

Kit ducked under his arm and darted over to the refrigerator that housed the whites. "Don't get yourself all worked up over an awkward hump on my parents' couch." Ugh, the last thing she wanted to do was rehash their one brief, clumsy encounter. She'd spent twelve years burying the stupid, idealistic seventeen-year-old she'd been, and she had no interest in resurrecting her tonight.

"Now come on, Kitty Kat," he said, and she winced at the use of her childhood nickname, "the least you can do is let me make it up to you."

Jake's serious, apologetic expression melted away, replaced with a crooked – damn her hormones for noticing – sexy smile and a hot, lustful gleam in his gaze.

Kit's jaw nearly dropped at his arrogance. She may have gotten over the trauma of that night twelve years ago, but she certainly hadn't forgiven him. And she definitely wasn't interested in having him "make it up to her."

"Trust me, I'm over it."

He moved in until she had no choice but to rest her hips against the top of the minifridge. "You're not just a little bit interested in finding out what tricks I may have learned in the last decade?" He glanced meaningfully down at the deeply plunging front of her silk halter top. She didn't need to look down to know that her nipples were two hard points outlined against the flimsy peach fabric. Reaching out with one finger, he traced the neckline of her top to where it ended almost at her navel. "Cold?"

She would have said yes, but even she wasn't that much of a liar.

He stepped closer, his hair-roughened knee brushing the inside of her thigh. The ragged hem of her denim micro-mini slid up another two inches.

A thick, dark lock fell across his forehead as he bent close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. Her heart rate picked up, and she wondered vaguely if he could see it beating against the bare sun-kissed skin of her chest. How was it, after all this time, he still had the power to transform her into a weak-kneed adolescent?

"You had your shot," she whispered, her lips so close to his she could almost taste him, "and you failed miserably. I'm not big on second chances."

He leaned forward, and the moist heat of his mouth against her collarbone sent a pulse of heat straight to her groin. "I think," he murmured as his tongue flicked along the sensitive cords of her neck, "in this case," his lips closed over her right earlobe and Kit told herself she would get up and move in two seconds but God she loved having her ears sucked, "you should make an exception."

Before she could breathe, his mouth closed over hers, lips molding and shaping as his tongue flicked against the seam. Hot damn, he had learned some new tricks.

She kept her fists clenched firmly at her sides but couldn't stop herself from parting her lips, just a little, for one tiny bit of a taste. He pressed his advantage, plunging his tongue inside, licking and sucking until she had no choice but to fist her hands in his hair and wrap her legs around his hips.

"God, I've been dying to touch you," he groaned into her mouth. "From the second I saw you, acting so cool. Burning so hot underneath."

As though to prove himself right, he shoved his hand between her thighs and pulled aside the now-drenched strip of lace covering her mound. He uttered a low grumble of satisfaction as his fingers met smooth flesh, already slippery wet from just one kiss.

Some sane, rational corner of her brain sent out frantic signals, warning her to stop this before it went too far – as though it hadn't already.

Which were promptly drowned out as he nosed aside the gathered neckline of her top and sucked one hard, rosy nipple deep into his mouth.

She tossed her head back and moaned as a thick, blunt finger stroked against her clit. She clenched her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, wanting to tear it off but not having the presence of mind to do so. Spreading her legs wide to give him better access, she rocked her pelvis against his hand, shuddering when he sank two fingers in to the last knuckle.

"Mmm," she moaned as he twisted his fingers inside her, his thumb jumping into the mix to give her clit some much-needed attention. One, two strokes against the slippery bud and she was gone, the walls of her sex clamping down in an orgasm so intense her screams echoed off the stone-lined ceiling.

He kissed her softly, quieting her, pressing his palm against her until the last tremors of her climax faded away.

Like a slap in the face, Kit suddenly became aware of her position. Legs sprawled wide on top of a minifridge, one boob hanging out of her halter, and Jake Donovan's hand once again in her pants.

Hopping off the fridge before he could catch her, she hitched her top back over her shoulder and smoothed her skirt back down her hips. She glanced at her watch. "Wow. You made me come inside of five minutes. You have improved."

He grinned and made a move to grab her. "I could make you come with both hands tied behind my back."

She had to get the hell out of that cellar before she begged for a live demonstration. "You've proven your point well enough." She haphazardly grabbed a few bottles of wine from the shelves. Arms full, she flashed him what she hoped passed for a sly, sophisticated smile and said, "Thanks. I needed that." She half ran back up the stairs, ignoring his shout of protest. See how you like being left high and dry, cowboy.

### Chapter 2

Thanks, I needed that. Jake couldn't help but grin at Kit's parting words.

As cool and casual as if he'd served her a drink. But despite her nonchalance, she hadn't been able to disguise the postorgasmic flush that crept all the way up her plunging neckline to her cheeks or the way her hands had trembled as they reached out to grab the bottles of wine.

She'd studiously ignored him as everyone loaded up into a van and headed into town for the evening's festivities, and she was careful to seat herself so she had a window on one side and a bridesmaid on the other, ruining his chances of copping a feel in the dark taxi.

Now he leaned against the bar of the crowded dance club, watching Kit bump and grind with Sabrina as Gwen Stefani sang about feeling hellagood. Dark hair rippling around her shoulders, hips swirling and thrusting to the beat, Kit was sex personified.

Every male eye in the club was drawn to her like bees to honey.

And damned if she didn't know it.

The little tease.

She licked her lips in an exaggerated gesture and glanced in his direction, pinning him with her cool, mocking gaze for a split second before lowering her lids in a look of mock ecstasy.

His cock thickened against the confines of his pants as he remembered what she really looked like when she came. How she strained against his hand, her tight, slick cunt gripping his fingers as she tossed her head back, plush mouth opening around her throaty cry.

She'd left him aching in the wine cellar, practically light-headed as every drop of blood in his body seemed to throb insistently in his cock, demanding satisfaction. He'd taken a quick, freezing shower before the group headed out to the nightclub, promising his dick imminent satisfaction even as it wilted to semi-hard.

Watching her, he took a pull from his bottle of Pacifico, imagining as he lifted his hand to his face that he could still smell her rich, spicy scent on his fingers. The mere memory was enough to bring his erection back to full attention. Dammit, at thirty-four he was supposed to have better control over himself than this.

But his reaction to Kit was no more manageable than it had been twelve years ago. From the moment he'd walked into the villa and seen her out by the pool, every nerve ending had been on high alert. Normally, he wasn't a big believer in fate or divine intervention. But seeing her silky curves barely restrained by a tiny black bikini, laid out before

him like a sensual buffet, he'd sworn he felt the hand of God.

He finally had a chance to make up for the way he'd so badly bungled things when he'd been an idiot twenty-two-year-old, raging with hormones and completely lacking in good sense or self-control.

He and his girlfriend – he could barely remember her face now – had fought, and when he'd found Kit, home by herself for the night, he'd stupidly accepted her invitation to hang out and watch TV. Two years earlier Kit had morphed from an awkward, skinny teenager to long-legged sexpot seemingly overnight, and he'd been struggling to keep his hands

off her ever since. But as his best friend Charlie's little sister, Kit had been strictly off limits.

But Kit had purposely tempted him, sitting oh-so casually close, close enough that her smooth, tan thighs, left bare by ridiculously short denim cutoffs, brushed against his legs as she shifted on the couch.

Next, her white button-down shirt had come off in deference to the heat, even though the air conditioning had been set high enough to make her nipples poke out like little bullets against the thin fabric of her tanktop.

What had really done him in, though, were her eyes. Grayish blue, thickly lashed, bright against her summer-tanned skin. Arresting, knowing, seemingly full of sensual awareness that no seventeen-year-old girl could have.

He'd wanted nothing more than to push her down on the couch and give her exactly what she was asking for, begging for. But she'd been off limits, untouchable, and he'd fought the impulse with every sinew in his ragingly horny body.

He would have succeeded, if she hadn't pinned him with that look.

The same look she'd given him five seconds ago. A knowing, almost mocking look that said she knew exactly what he wanted and dared him to take it. He'd love to blame what happened next on being drunk. But contrary to Kit's story, he hadn't had enough to be even mildly buzzed, much less the sloppy inebriate she'd described. He'd fallen victim to lust, pure and simple, barely able to get inside her before he exploded with the force of a soda bottle that had gone through a spin cycle.

It was still one of the most sexually humiliating episodes of his life. By that time, he'd had plenty of experience, thought he'd known how to control himself and hold out until the girl he was with was satisfied.

Only to have whatever expertise he possessed fly out the door when he finally succumbed to the temptation of Kit.

No question he'd blown it – in more ways than one. On that they vehemently agreed. She hadn't exaggerated his performance or lack thereof. Afterward, she'd transformed from sexy, knowing woman into an innocent young girl who'd just experienced an awkward, unskilled, and uncomfortable introduction to sexual intercourse. Guilt had curdled in his stomach as she ran from the room, tears streaming down her face.

Idiot that he was, he'd convinced himself that she would never want to hear from him again. By the time he'd extricated his head from his ass and realized that she probably would have appreciated at least a phone call, months had passed, and when he saw her again over Christmas break she was dating some little tattooed punk who played guitar and whined about corporate control of America.

The music changed to Prince's "Cream," and Kit moved behind Sabrina, sliding her hand across the other woman's abdomen as they swung their hips in tandem. Some jackass in a tank top tried to move up behind Kit and get in on the action. The women smoothly danced away, dashing the poor slob's hope of ending up as the creamy center of a Kit & Sabrina sandwich.

"Maybe they'll start making out soon." Dave, the groom's brother, gestured toward the women with an exaggerated leer.

Jake drained his beer, placing the bottle on the bar behind him. "Don't count on it." The only person Kit would be making out with tonight was him.

***

"We should start kissing. That'll really make their night," Sabrina said over her shoulder as Kit let her hands hover dangerously over Sabrina's breasts.

Kit laughed and tossed her head back. Guys were so easy. Give them a whiff of girl-on-girl action and they were convinced you were going to reenact the double-ended dildo scene from Where the Boys Aren't, Volume 6.

All the boys were watching now, waiting to see how far they would take it, hoping with every inch of their hard little dicks that Kit would actually slide her hand into Sabrina's top, that Sabrina would turn around and slip Kit some tongue.

Though she hated to admit it, Kit only cared about holding the attention of one pair of gleaming green eyes. Keeping her lids lowered, she snuck another glance at the bar, her rhythm faltering when she found the space formerly occupied by Jake's broad shoulders now filled by two nearly identical bleached blondes.

Suddenly a large, proprietary hand slid around her hip to flatten across her stomach. She didn't even have to turn around to know it was Jake. Even in the crowded dance club, she could pick up his scent, soapy clean with a hint of his own special musk. Without a word he pulled her back against him. The rigid length of his erection grinding rhythmically against her ass let her know her dance floor antics had been effective.

What she hadn't counted on was her own swift response. Sure, he'd gotten the best of her in the wine cellar, but she'd written it off as a result of not having had sex since her last "friend with benefits" had done the unthinkable and actually wanted an exclusive relationship. She'd had to cut all ties and hadn't found a suitable replacement in the last six months.

Tonight, she'd only meant to tease and torment Jake, give him a taste of what he wanted but couldn't have. Now she wasn't so sure she'd be able to stick with that game plan. The memory of her gut-wrenching orgasm pulsed through her, her nerve endings dancing along her skin with no more than his hand caressing her stomach and his cock grinding against her rear. His broad palm slid up until his long fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, barely covered by the thin silk of her top.

She was vaguely aware of Sabrina raising a knowing eyebrow as she moved over to dance with one of the other groomsmen. Without thinking she raised one arm, hooking it around his neck as she pressed back against the hard wall of his chest. Hot breath caressed her neck before his teeth latched gently on her earlobe. The throbbing beat of the music echoed between her legs, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold him off, not when he was so good at noticing and exploiting her weakness.

"Let's go," he whispered gruffly, taking her hand and tugging her toward the edge of the floor.

She wasn't that easy. "What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?" she replied, breaking his hold and shimmying away.

A mocking smile curved his full, sensuous mouth. "Wasn't that what your little show was all about? Driving me crazy until I take you home and prove to you exactly how good it could be between us?" To emphasize

his point, he shoved his thigh between hers until the firm muscles pressed deliciously against her already-wet sex. "What happened earlier was just a taste, Kit. Don't lie and tell me you don't want the whole feast."

She moaned as his mouth pressed hot and wet against her throat, wishing she had it in her to be a vindictive tease and leave him unsatisfied, aching for her body.

But her body wouldn't let her play games, and she was too smart to pass up an opportunity for what she instinctively knew would be the best sex of her life. Jake was right. She wanted him. Wanted to feel his hands and mouth all over her bare skin. Wanted to see if his cock was as long and thick and hard as she remembered. Wanted to see if he'd finally learned how to use it.

And why not? She was a practical, modern woman who believed in casual sex as long as her pleasure was assured and no strings were attached. What could be more string free than a hot vacation fling with a guy who lived on the opposite side of the country? And this time she'd have the satisfaction of leaving him without so much as a good-bye.

Decision made, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the door. "Let's hope you haven't oversold yourself, cowboy."

"Baby, I'm gonna give you the ride of your life."

Outside, downtown Cabo San Lucas rang with the sounds of traffic and boisterous tourists. Jake hustled her into a taxi van's back row, and in rapid Spanish he gave the driver the villa's address and negotiated a rate.

Hidden by several rows of seats, Kit had no modesty when he pulled her into his arms, capturing her mouth in a rough, lusty kiss. Opening wide, she sucked him hard, sliding her tongue against his, exploring the hot, moist recesses of his mouth. Her breath tightened in quick pants as he tugged her blouse aside and settled a hand over her bare breast, kneading, plumping the soft flesh before grazing his thumb over the rock hard tip.

Muffled sounds of pleasure stuck in her throat. She couldn't ever remember being so aroused, dying to feel his naked skin against her own, wanting to absorb every hard inch of him inside her. She unbuttoned his shirt with shaky hands, exploring the rippling muscles of his chest and abs. He was leaner now than he'd been at twenty-two, not as bulked up as he'd been when he played football for UCLA. The sprinkling of dark hair had grown thicker as well, teasing and tickling her fingers, reminding her that the muscles that shifted and bulged under her hands belonged to a man, not a boy.

Speaking of which...

She nipped at his bottom lip and slid her hand lower, over his fly, until her palm pressed flat against a rock-hard column of flesh. The taxi took a sharp curve, sending them sliding across the bench seat until Kit lay halfway across Jake's chest. He took the opportunity to reach under her skirt and cup the bare cheeks of her ass, while she seized the chance to unzip his fly and reach greedily inside the waistband of his boxers.

Hot pulsing flesh filled her hand to overflowing. Her fingers closed around him, measuring him from root to tip, and they exchanged soft groans into each other's mouths. He was huge, long and so thick her fingers barely closed around him. It had hurt like a beast when he'd taken her virginity.

But now she couldn't wait to feel his enormous cock sliding inside her, stretching her walls, driving harder and deeper than any man ever had.

She traced her thumb over the ripe head, spreading the slippery beads of moisture forming at the tip. Her own sex wept in response. Unable to control herself, she reached down and pulled up her skirt, climbing fully onto his lap. She couldn't wait, her pussy aching for his invasion. God, this was going to be good.

If anyone had told her twelve years ago that someday she'd be having sex with Jake Donovan in a Mexican taxicab, she would have called that person insane.

Pulling her thong aside, she slid herself over him, teasing his cock with the hot kiss of her body, letting the bulbous head slip and slide along her drenched slit. She eased over him until she held the very tip of him inside...

The taxi jerked abruptly to a stop, and Kit dazedly realized they'd reached the villa. With quick, efficient motions Jake straightened her skirt and shifted her off him, then gingerly tucked his mammoth erection back into his pants. With one last, hard kiss he helped her down from the van and paid the driver as though he hadn't been millimeters away from ramming nine thick inches into her pussy in the back of the man's cab.

Kit waited impatiently by the door, pretending not to see the driver's leer. Like they were the first couple to engage in hot and heavy foreplay. Jake strode over, pinning her against the door as he reached for the knob and turned.

And turned again. He swore softly.

"What is it?" Kit was busy licking and nibbling her way down the strip of flesh exposed by Jake's still unbuttoned shirt. He tasted insanely good, salty and warm.

"I don't suppose you have a key?"

She groaned and leaned her head back against the door. "I didn't take one." There were only four keys to the villa, and when they went out they all made sure they had designated male and female keyholders.

Unfortunately, tonight Kit wasn't one of them, and apparently neither was Jake. "What time does the housekeeper leave?"

Jake looked at his watch. "Two hours ago."

He bent over and picked up the welcome mat, then inspected all the potted plants placed around the entry for a hidden key. Watching the way his ass muscles flexed against the soft khaki fabric of his slacks, Kit knew she was mere seconds away from pushing him down and having him right there on the slate-tiled patio.

He straightened, running a frustrated hand through his thick, dark hair. Eyes glittering with lust, he muttered, "There has to be a way in here."

"Through the back," Kit said. All they had to do was scale the wall that surrounded the villa. The house had several sets of sliding glass doors leading out to the huge patio and pool area. One of them was bound to be unlocked.

With a little grunting and shoving, Jake managed to boost Kit over the six-foot wall before hoisting himself over. Holding hands and giggling like idiots, they ran across the patio. But Jake stopped her before she reached the first set of doors.

"Doesn't that look inviting?"

She turned to find him looking at the pool. Wisps of steam rose in curly tendrils off the surface. The patio lights were off, the only illumination generated from the nearly full moon bouncing its silvery light off the dark water. A smile curved her mouth, and renewed heat pulsed low in her belly. "I could get into a little skinny dipping."

He pulled her to the side of the pool and quickly stripped off her top. Kit arched her back and moaned up to the sky as he paused to suck each nipple as it peaked in the cool night air. Her legs trembled at the hot, wet pull of his lips, her sex fluttering and contracting as it ached for more direct attention.

His hands settled at the snap of her skirt. "I like this thing," he said as he slid the zipper inch by agonizing inch. "Kinda reminds me of those sexy little shorts you wore that first time –"

Her whole body tensed. She didn't want to think of that night right now, didn't want to think about the last time she let uncontrollable desire get the best of her. Her fingers pressed against his lips. "I'd rather not revisit unpleasant memories."

She caught the quick hint of a frown across his features, but he hid it quickly as he slid her skirt and thong off, leaving them to pool around her feet.

"In that case," he said as his shirt slid off his massive shoulders, "I better get down to creating some new ones."

### Chapter 3

Damn, the woman knew how to hold a grudge. But the sting Jake felt at Kit's reminder of just how unpleasant she found the memories of their first time quickly faded at the sight of her in the moonlight, fully nude except for her stiletto-heeled sandals.

With her long legs and soft curves, sex radiated from her pores like a perfume, sending pulses of electricity straight to his groin. His cock was so hard he actually hurt.

In the clear moonlight he could make out the sculpted lines of her cheekbones, the dark sweep of lashes over her blue eyes, the full curve of her lips. Her dark hair swung forward over her shoulders, playing peekaboo with tight, dark nipples.

His hands followed his gaze, tracing the taut, smooth plane of her abdomen, coming to rest just above what he'd felt before but hadn't seen. Her pubic hair was a dark, neatly trimmed patch over plump, smooth lips.

Her breath caught as he combed his fingertips through the silky tuft of hair, inching his way down but not touching the hot, silky flesh that lay below.

He was afraid if he touched her he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pushing her onto a nearby lounge chair and shoving his cock as hard and high in her as he could possibly go. His hands trembled at the remembered feel of her soft pussy lips closing over him, stretching over the broad head of his penis as she straddled him in the cab. If the driver hadn't stopped, he knew he would have lost control, would have fucked her hard and fast until he exploded inside her, ruining his chances of proving he'd learned anything about self-control in the past twelve years.

So instead of dipping his fingers into the juicy folds of her sex, he knelt in front of her and removed her lethal-looking sandals before shedding his pants and underwear. Taking her hand, he led her into the pool.

He pulled her against him until her breasts nuzzled his chest like warm little peaches, reveling in the sensation of cool water and warm skin. He kissed her, tongue plunging rough and deep, just the way he wanted to drive inside her. He couldn't believe after all these years he was here with her again, touching her, tasting her. She tasted so good, like vodka and sin, her wet mouth open and eager under his. One taste and he regressed back to that horny twenty-two-year-old, shaking with lust and overwhelmed by the reality of touching the woman who had fueled his most carnal fantasies.

Greedily his hands roamed her skin, fingers sinking into giving flesh as he kneaded and caressed. He wished he had a lifetime to spend exploring every sweet inch of her. Kit gave as good as she got, her hands sliding cool and wet down his back, legs floating up to wrap around his waist. He threw his head back, clenching his jaw hard enough to crack a molar. Hot, slick flesh teased the length of his cock, plump lips spreading to cradle him as she rocked her hips and groaned. He backed her up against the smooth tiles that lined the sides of the pool. One thrust, and he could be inside her.

"No," he panted, "not yet."

Water closed over his head as he sank to his knees, drowning out everything but the taste and feel of her. Eyes closed, he spread her pussy lips with his thumbs, nuzzling between her legs until he felt the tense bud of her clit against his face. Cool water and hot flesh filled his mouth as he pulled her clit between his lips, sucking and flicking until her hips twitched and he heard the muffled sounds of her moans distorted by the water. A loud buzz hummed in his ears, and it occurred to him that he might pass out soon from lack of air.

Surfacing, he sucked in a deep breath and lifted her hips onto the tile ledge. She drew her knees up, resting her heels on the edge to give him unimpeded access to her perfect pink cunt. He parted the smooth lips with his thumbs, lapped roughly at the hard knot of flesh, and circled it with his tongue, sucking it hard between his lips as her pelvis rocked and bucked against his face. Every sigh, every moan, every guttural purr she uttered made his dick throb until he was so hard he feared he might burst out of his skin.

"Oh God, oh, Jake," she moaned. Another rush of liquid heat bathed his tongue, and he knew she was close. The first faint flutters of her orgasm gripped his fingers as they slid inside, clamping down harder as the full force of climax hit her.

***

Kit stared up at the bright night sky as the last pulses shuddered through her. Taking several deep, fortifying breaths, she risked a look at Jake. His dark head was still between her thighs as he rained soft, soothing kisses on the smooth inner curves. Tender kisses. Loving kisses, even.

Oh Christ, she might be in really big trouble.

She could never remember responding to a lover like she did to Jake. Then again, she'd never had a lover treat her like Jake did.

Her last partner was exactly the type she liked. She told him what she wanted and he listened, bringing her efficiently to satisfaction before finding his own.

But he hadn't looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He hadn't run his hands over her skin like he wanted to memorize every inch of her. He hadn't buried his head between her legs and licked and savored her pussy like it was the most succulent, exquisite fruit he'd ever tasted.

And he sure as hell had never made her come so hard that her vision blurred and her body felt like it was wracked by thousands of tiny electrical currents.

She heard the sound of water splashing, and her stomach muscles jerked as Jake held his dripping body over hers. Bracing himself with his hands, he came down over her and kissed her with a tenderness that almost made her want to cry.

Crap. What was wrong with her? This was Jake, the man who'd so rudely introduced her to the world of slam bam thank you ma'am. To give him credit he'd proven – twice now – that he could make her come. Really, really hard. But still. It was just an orgasm.

The smartest move would be to get up and leave before she fell victim to this weird hormonal anomaly. But her brain had ceded all control to the area between her legs that still throbbed and ached to feel all of Jake buried deep inside her.

And to think men got a bad rap for being controlled by their dicks.

She draped a lazy hand around his neck and slid her fingers into the wet silk of his hair. Then he was gone, water splashing as he levered himself out of the pool. She could barely summon the energy to turn her head to watch him dig around the pockets of his pants.

Moonlight cast silvery shadows on the muscles of his back and shoulders, illuminating the drops of water cascading down his long, strong legs. A renewed jolt of energy rushed through her as he turned, his cock jutting out in stark relief. Though she couldn't see his eyes, she could feel him watching her as he rolled on a condom with slow deliberation. Stroking himself, reminding her that in a few moments the whole of that outrageously hard length would be buried deep inside her.

She rolled to her knees as he walked toward her, reaching for him as he got close. He brushed her hands away, slipping back into the water and pulling her in with him. The cool tile was hard on her back as he pulled her close for a rough kiss. He lifted her leg over his hip, burrowing the tip of his erection against her. "I can't be gentle," he murmured. "I've waited too many years to have you again."

Waited years? What did he mean by –

The thought was abruptly cut off by the sudden, swift presence of him shoving inside her. Even though she was wetter, readier, than she'd ever been, the sheer size of him caught her off guard. Stretching tight slick flesh, pressing deep, and just when she thought she couldn't take any more he drove in another inch.

Her mouth opened wide on a silent scream of pleasured pain, her startled gasps swallowed by his mouth as he pumped inside her with his cock and his tongue. Towering over her by several inches, he surrounded her, dominated her. She'd never felt so invaded, so claimed. She wasn't sure she liked it. But her body did.

She felt herself easing, softening around him, relaxing to take him deep with every surge of his hips. "Oh, Kit," he groaned, the helpless note in his voice perfectly matching the way she felt. Suddenly he pulled out, ignoring her embarrassing wail of protest as he spun her around to face the edge of the pool.

Gripping her hips so hard it should have hurt, he thrust in from behind, whispering all the while how beautiful she was, how hot and tight her pussy felt around him. Whispers that faded into groans as his hands reached around to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her yell as she pulsed and clenched around him. His hips pumped faster now, short shallow strokes interspersed with long deep plunges as he gasped and heaved behind her.

Bracing her hands on the tile wall, Kit pushed against him, working herself on his swollen shaft, pushing him so deep she felt him at the base of her spine. Her climax hovered around the edges of every stroke, knotting and tightening low in her belly. Suddenly he stiffened behind her, a low roar bellowing from his chest as he jerked heavily inside her.

The tight walls of her pussy clamped down in response, clenching around him as her own orgasm pulsed through her core with such force she might have drowned if he hadn't been holding her up.

He cradled her against him as he nuzzled his mouth against her neck. Though she wasn't one for postcoital cuddling, Kit allowed herself to enjoy his tender affection. He was preventing her from drowning after all.

"Aw, shit," he muttered.

Not exactly what she was expecting him to say.

Abruptly he pulled out and levered out of the pool as she gradually became aware of what he must have heard. Motors running. Doors slamming. Drunken laughter. "C'mon, unless you want to be tonight's late night entertainment."

Kit considered herself adventurous when it came to sex, but she had no desire to be caught in the act by ten of her closest friends.

Hurrying as much as possible on sex-weakened legs, Kit awkwardly heaved herself up and onto the patio.

Jake gathered up their clothes and wrapped her in an oversize pool towel before tucking one around his hips. Pulling her over to a set of sliding glass doors away from the main entry, he whispered a quick prayer, followed by a sigh of relief when the door slid open without protest.

Someone cranked up the stereo as they padded down the dark hallway.

How was she supposed to get to her room unnoticed when she had to cut through the living room? The hall light snapped on, and heavy footsteps echoed against the tiles. Grabbing her arm, Jake pulled her into a bedroom, dimly lit by a single lamp on the heavy wooden bedside table.

His bedroom, she quickly concluded when she saw the shirt he'd been wearing earlier carelessly tossed across the foot of the queen-size bed.

Grinning like a son of a bitch, he tumbled her back on the mattress and flung her towel across the room. "Guess you'll have to hide out in here."

***

"Morning."

Kit's eyes flew open in horror at the sound of Jake's sexy, sleep-roughened voice in her ear.

How could she have possibly stayed the entire night in his room?

First rule of casual sex, never sleep over. It implied a certain level of intimacy and always resulted in an awkward morning after. Not that she hadn't tried to leave. After their second round, Jake had done what any normal man does after climax and had rolled over and started snoring. She'd even waited a good ten minutes to make sure he was really out.

But the second her feet hit the floor his hand had closed around her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?" he'd asked. "I'm not done with you yet."

And he'd tucked her underneath him and slid inside her as though he hadn't already come twice in the space of two hours.

Afterward, she'd been so exhausted, like an idiot she'd rolled over and fallen asleep.

God, she hoped she hadn't snored or drooled. Nothing like the harsh light of day to take the polish off a lover. She risked a look over her shoulder.

Of course, Jake would look perfect. Instead of looking like a sleepy slob, he looked gorgeous with his dark hair sticking straight up and beard stubble darkening his jaw. Sexy and relaxed in way that made a girl dream of long Sunday mornings spent cuddling and making love and pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist.

The moronic, naive, seventeen-year-old that lurked inside her was making her presence known. Making love? As if! She needed to get the heck out of there.

"Mmm, don't leave," he cajoled, rubbing a very impressive – and tempting – morning erection against the inner curve of her thigh. She glanced at the clock, relief mingling with disappointment as she remembered the spa treatments the girls had scheduled for today.

"Gotta go," she said briskly, forcing herself from the all too cozy bed and scrambling into her clothes. "We have spa appointments, and besides," she tossed him a naughty glance over one shoulder, "I'm sore."

His green eyes sparked with wicked heat. "Sure you don't want me to kiss it and make it better?"

While the idiot seventeen-year-old inside Kit pleaded with her to stay, the Kit who was older and knew better waved him off and got out of the room while she still could.

***

Monday morning, Kit woke up and cursed, finding herself in the same place she'd been yesterday morning: Jake's bed.

Dammit.

No matter how hard she fought it, she hadn't been able to keep herself from falling asleep burrowed up against his oversize chest and sleeping like a dead woman all the way through to morning. This morning she hadn't even noticed when he got up. But he must have been up for a while since his side of the bed was cold. Thank God for small favors. She didn't think she could fake immunity from his sexy morning-after self just now.

Yesterday after the women had returned from getting buffed, oiled, and polished within an inch of their lives, she'd been determined to keep a little distance. The last thing she wanted was to start acting all couple-y and give everyone the wrong impression. Yet somehow she'd spent the evening glued to his side before they retired shortly after dinner.

She sighed and rolled over, silently reprimanding herself for once again falling prey to Jake Donovan's considerable charms. And despite Kit's attempts to stifle her with neglect and copious amounts of alcohol, that ridiculous teenage girl who had so foolishly imagined herself in love with Jake so many years ago kept clamoring for attention.

Going on and on about how this had to be fate, bringing them together like this, her agenda fueled by Jake's constant attention and considerable sexual skill. Look at the way he stares at you when he thinks you're not looking, teenage-idiot Kit crowed. Listen to the way he laughs at your jokes. Isn't it nice to be with a guy who actually gets your sense of humor? And talk about gorgeous...You have to admit after all these years it's fun to be with a guy who's so big and strong and...dominant.

Kit conceded that point. For years the guys she hooked up with tended to the slender, wiry side, the exact opposite of Jake's six foot four of imposing brawn. At an athletic five seven, she wasn't particularly petite herself, and she had to admit it was kinda fun feeling almost dainty in bed.

But so what? So he was still incredibly hot, and his sexual technique had improved by several orders of magnitude. Jake, she reminded herself firmly, was still the original dog that had crushed the romantic spirit of her seventeen-year-old self, screwing her literally and figuratively without so much as a follow-up phone call. And she was no longer an innocent girl in the throes of a wicked crush, but a grown woman who knew better than to put much stock in a handful of orgasms. Once they got on their flights this afternoon – he to Boston, she to San Francisco – the last two days would fade to a vague memory of hot sex under the Mexican moon.

Not bothering to hunt for her clothes, Kit snatched up one of Jake's XXL T-shirts and pulled it over her head. It hung past her knees, providing plenty of coverage for her walk of shame back to her own room.

She tried not to notice the masculine soap and sandalwood scent that clung to the soft cotton as she padded down the hall. Nevertheless, she couldn't ignore the fierce pulse beat that picked up between her thighs at the thought of nuzzling her nose into the naked skin of his chest, the silky underside of his arm, his hair-roughened inner thigh...

As she crept across the living room, thankful that she'd yet to encounter any other guests, she picked up the low rumble of his voice coming from the kitchen. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, and wouldn't have even stopped if she hadn't heard her name.

She crept into the adjoining dining room, and from her vantage next to the china hutch she could hear them clearly without being seen.

"She's one hot piece of ass." Kit was pretty sure that was Dave, her least favorite of the groomsmen. Unfortunately he was also the groom's brother, so he had to be included in the wedding party. He'd struck Kit as an overgrown frat boy trying to perpetually relive the glory days of the Sigma Chi house, so she wasn't surprised or particularly offended to hear his assessment of her. "Is she as wild as she looks? I bet she's a screamer."

Kit tensed, bracing herself for Jake's contribution to the locker room talk, telling herself she didn't give a crap what he had to say.

"If you say one more word about her, I'm going to take this spatula and shove it straight up your ass." Even more shocking than his words was his tone: low and lethal and definitely not messing around.

"Hey man," Dave's voice sounded garbled, like someone was choking him, "I was only kidding. It's not like I'm talking about your wife or anything –"

Jake's next words stunned her. "As far as you or anyone else in this house are concerned, Kit is mine, got that? And if you so much as look at her again before we leave today, I'll feed you your own testicles."

Kit's shoe slid from her nerveless fingers, its impact unnaturally loud in the tiled, high-ceilinged room.

"What the –"

Crap! She made a mad dash across the dining room and down the hall to the room she hadn't slept in for the past two nights.

How dare he be so possessive, she fumed. Kit is mine. Whatever! She wasn't anyone's, thank you very much, and one weekend of – albeit fantastically amazing – sex was not about to change that.

Especially when it involved Jake Donovan. Did he really think, after all these years and the way he had treated her, he could waltz back into her life and give her a few mind-blowing orgasms, and she'd allow herself to be dragged back to his cave?

Fat chance. It was time Jake got his own bitter taste of reality.

### Chapter 4

What is it about an old flame that really gets our engines revved? Why is it that some guys make us come back for more, even when they don't deserve it? Me, I'm not one to offer up second chances. Yet I spent the most incredible sun-and sex-soaked weekend of my life with a guy who, based on his past performance, never should have gotten within an inch of my panties again in this lifetime. But boy had this dog learned some new tricks – enough to make this girl howl...

Kit groaned in frustration as a knock sounded at her door. Who could possibly be here at nine P.M. on a Tuesday night? Maybe if she pretended not to be home, whomever it was would go away. One thing she did not need right now was an interruption. Not only did earnings reports start tomorrow, but also in less than twelve hours she had a deadline on another article in her ongoing investigation into local biotech companies that had fudged clinical study data on pharmaceuticals they were developing.

She clicked on a URL and pulled up yet another article on the fun things various drugs could do to one's liver, dreaming wistfully of the day when she could write things like "Stripping It Down" and get paid enough to leave the dry, clinical world of business reporting.

The pounding at her door continued. It was probably her neighbor Margot from across the hall wanting to watch TV since Kit had cable and Margot didn't. She slid her bare feet into the red fuzzy scuffs under her desk and shuffled over to the door.

"You can come in," she grumbled as she flung open the door without bothering to look through the peephole, "but you have to keep quiet."

"If I remember correctly, last time I saw you, you were the one making most of the noise."

Kit stepped back in shock at the sight of Jake Donovan in her doorway, a take-no-prisoner's grin stretched across his unfairly handsome face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped before she could stop herself. She thought for a split second she was hallucinating. In the week since she'd returned from Cabo, Jake had never been far from her thoughts. Especially when she'd written the last two installments of "Stripping It Down," during which she'd revisited every delicious moment she'd spent at the mercy of Jake's sexual potency.

Ignoring her question, he pushed his way past her and into her apartment without an invitation. Closing the door behind them, he caught her chin in one hand and tilted it up to meet his kiss. "I never did get to kiss you good-bye," he said as he released her, licking his lips as though savoring her taste.

She felt a wash of shame across her cheeks. After she'd heard his outburst in the villa's kitchen, she'd quickly packed her stuff and asked one of the maids to call her a taxi. After sneaking out the back entrance, she'd left for the airport without so much as a good-bye to anyone. Especially not Jake.

Not the best form, she conceded, and definitely not the move of a woman who was as nonchalant about Jake as Kit told herself she was. But Jake was getting ideas, as evidenced by his outburst to Dave, and at the time Kit could think of nothing but getting far, far away before he foolishly tried to make something out of their meaningless weekend fling.

And the fact that he was in her apartment, unannounced and uninvited, a mere week later warned her that Jake might not have taken their weekend as casually as she would have liked. "You flew across the country just to kiss me good-bye? Should I worry that I have a stalker on my hands?"

Jake chuckled and walked into the living room, tossing his suit jacket across the back of the couch as though he did it every day. As he loosened the knot of his tie, she couldn't help admiring the way his shoulders strained the brushed cotton of his button-down shirt, the way his suit pants draped over the tight muscles of his butt. He leaned his weight against the back of her putty-colored sofa, heat crackling from his eyes as they scanned her from her messy ponytail to her ratty red slippers.

She fought the urge to cringe. Of course, Jake would be dressed like a GQ wet dream while she had to answer the door in a threadbare T-shirt she'd picked up for free at a conference somewhere and a pair of ancient boxer shorts. Not that she cared what he thought of how she looked – she wasn't sure she wanted him here at all, and the less desirable he found her the less likely this situation would get complicated.

Never mind the fact that her nipples had risen up like bullets at the first flick of those cool green eyes.

"Don't worry, Kit," he said, "I won't be boiling any bunnies. My firm is working on a deal out here and they want me in the San Francisco office for the next month or so."

That sounded reasonable enough. She had, of course, Googled Jake the minute she got home and knew that his firm did have an office in San Francisco and had invested in several local technology companies.

What an idiot. As if he would actually fly all the way from Boston to see her, regardless of how phenomenal the sex had been. She didn't know what was scarier: the initial thought that he had taken their weekend too seriously or that she was actually disappointed he was there only for business.

"I called your brother to get your info," he continued, "and figured I'd stop by." He pushed up from the couch and walked slowly toward her, not stopping until he stood mere inches away.

"You could have called first," she said, folding her arms across her chest to hide her body's intense reaction.

"After the way you left," he slid his hand up and around to cup her neck, "I wasn't sure you'd agree to see me."

She licked her lips nervously, clenching her hands around her biceps as she fought the urge to sweep his feet out from under him and knock him to the floor. "You didn't think I'd want to see you?"

His teeth flashed whitely against his tan skin. "I knew you wanted to see me," he said, "but I didn't know if you'd agree."

He leaned closer, until she could feel his warm breath across her lips. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" she murmured, her lips brushing his chin as she couldn't stop herself from rising up on tiptoe and leaning in.

Grasping her ponytail in his hand, he pulled her head back, teasing her lips open with his tongue before thrusting inside. Her arms uncrossed and coiled around his neck, pulling him close as she opened her mouth wide for his invasion.

He groaned and sank into her, sucking and biting at her lips like a starving man. Heat pooled between her thighs until all she could think about was getting him naked and inside her as quickly as possible.

Still, she couldn't let him win so easily. Jerking her head from his grasp, she said, "So that's it? No flowers, no dinner? You were in town and thought you'd look me up for a booty call? I wonder what Charlie would think about you treating his baby sister like this."

Jake slid a proprietary hand up the back of her shirt, his splayed fingers sending hot shivers down her spine. The other wrapped around her hip, drawing her close enough to feel the heat of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "You want me to work for it, Kit? Dinner? Flowers? I'll do whatever you want." He kissed her hard, leaving her lips swollen and throbbing. "But I spent the whole flight like this," he growled, pulling her hand down to his fly so she could feel for herself how hard and huge he was, "thinking about how soon I could get inside you."

It was too much. She didn't want to hear the want, the need in his voice, scaring her even as it sent a rush of liquid heat pulsing between her thighs.

"I'll play any game you want," he whispered as his tongue trailed down the sensitive cords of her neck, "but I thought at this point we could be honest with each other."

Relief, mixed with disappointment, coursed through her. Kit focused on relief. Clearly whatever possessive feelings he had for her had faded, and all he wanted from her was sex. Why beat around the bush pretending to date when all he wanted was some good old-fashioned, no strings-attached sex like they'd had in Mexico?

Because that was exactly what she wanted too.

Liar.

But Kit ruthlessly silenced the voice that tried to tell her she wanted more. Instead she grabbed Jake by the tie and pulled him into her bedroom, where they stripped each other with frenzied efficiency, pausing to kiss and lick each new patch of skin as it was revealed. Backing him up against the edge of the mattress she pushed him down, following after him until she landed sprawled naked across his mile-wide chest. Like a cat in heat she rubbed herself against the lightly furred wall of muscles, hissing as his hands covered her bare breasts, palms rasping against the sensitive points of her nipples.

His cock was hot and throbbing against her belly, and she positioned herself over him so she could slide her dripping slit along the rock-hard flesh. Big hands cupped her ass, grinding her against him until she was on the verge of orgasm from that brief contact.

Not yet. She pulled away slightly, leaning down to trace her tongue between his pecs as something he said in that wine cellar tickled at the back of her brain.

With one hand she guided his hands up to the wrought iron rails of her bed frame, while the other slid open the drawer of her bedside table. In only a few seconds she managed to locate what she wanted.

The cold snap of metal sounded unnaturally loud in her tiny bedroom, and Jake's eyes flew open as he found himself handcuffed firmly to her headboard. His biceps bulged deliciously as he tested the bonds, and finding himself tethered, he relaxed back against the pillows.

Knees spread on either side of his torso, Kit sat back, surveying him like a conquering Amazon claiming her prize.

"I'm at your mercy." He smiled.

"You certainly are." Leaning forward until her breasts just brushed his face, she moaned as he obediently turned his head so he could tongue first one, then the other nipple into his mouth. She sat back again, and his mouth released a hard point with an audible pop. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

"I could make some suggestions, but since you're the one who wanted to play power games, I think it should be up to you."

She wondered what Jake would say if she admitted this was the first time she'd used the handcuffs. A gag gift from a girl's night out, the pink fur-lined novelty item had rested unused in her bedside drawer for the past two years. As sexually liberated as she liked to think she was, she'd never had the urge to tie a man down and had certainly never trusted one to do the same to her.

But Jake was so cocky, so sure of himself, she couldn't resist the temptation to put his skills to the test. "You told me in Mexico," she said, gently raking her nails down the skin of his chest, "that you could make me come with both hands tied behind your back." A film of sweat erupted on his skin, and she felt the tip of his cock jerk against the back of her thigh. "Let's see how you do with both hands tied to my bed."

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face, and she could tell by the flutters low in her belly that he wouldn't have to try all that hard.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he whispered, "Climb on up, Kitty Kat."

She settled herself over him, knees on either side of his ears. Her breath caught, eyes closing as he nuzzled into her folds. Her fingers wrapped around his where they gripped the headboard, a soft moan pushing through her lips as his tongue made a soft foray. Flicking and swirling, he teased and taunted her clit with soft brushing strokes, then abandoned it to trace the drenched seam of her lips, pushing his way into her hot core in a soft tongue fuck.

Her hips rocked to meet the soft thrusts, her sounds of pleasure giving way to frustration as he kept his strokes light, brushing, never settling into a firm rhythm that would drive her to orgasm.

Proving that just because he was tied up didn't mean he was powerless.

"Damn you, stop teasing," she said between clenched teeth.

He laughed softly, the vibration sending shuddery pulses against her aching flesh. She sighed as his mouth opened over her clit, drawing the tight kernel between his lips and lashing it with firm strokes of his tongue. He feasted on her with hungry sucks of his lips, lapping and plunging against her.

Within moments she felt the familiar tightening in her core as her orgasm bloomed low in her belly. His mouth's relentless assault drove her over the edge, his tongue driving inside her quivering cunt as she trembled and pulsed against his face.

Hot tingles spread down her arms and legs as she slid herself down his body, coming to rest with her head against his chest. "I guess you weren't lying."

He lifted his head off the pillow and leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I hate it when people exaggerate their abilities, so I try never to do it myself."

Kit sighed and squirmed against him, jerked out of her sleepy postcoital lassitude by the insistent prodding of his erection against her ass, reminding her that she might be well satisfied, but he was still very much aroused and raring to go. It would serve him right if she left him unsatisfied and tied to her bed, but she couldn't bring herself to do it after he'd done such a good job of getting her off. True, she had a petty vindictive streak and she didn't know if she'd ever be through with Jake, but to leave him hard and aching seemed outrageously unfair.

Not to mention a horrible waste of a perfectly good erection.

She nibbled and sucked her way down his torso, loving the salty taste of his skin, the musky scent of aroused male teasing her nostrils. Her tongue traced the narrow line of hair that bisected a perfect six pack, skittered around his navel, and stopped just short of the rigid shaft jutting up and tapping insistently against his belly button.

A bead of pre-come pearled on the tip. His cock jumped against her tongue as she lapped it off. Every muscle stood out in tight relief as she punished him with the same teasing licks, the soft, kitten-like laps he'd used to torment her. A vein stood out starkly along his shaft, throbbing double time as he strained against her firm hold.

Finally she took him into her mouth, and his thrilled groan was enough to send a bolt of renewed want straight to her core. He was so big she could barely fit her lips around him, her mouth stretched around the tip of his cock as she struggled to take him deeper. Grasping him in her hand, she worked him in short, tight strokes as her tongue swirled against the silky smooth head. His hips moved restively, and she could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth.

As much as she loved the taste and feel of his cock in her mouth, it wasn't enough for her either. Her pussy wept and throbbed, aching to feel the thick stretch of him sinking inside her.

"Where are you going?" His voice held the strain of a man pushed to the brink of his endurance.

She leaned over and took his mouth in a deep, tongue-thrusting kiss but didn't answer as she pushed herself off the bed and sauntered away. When she pulled away his expression was wary. He was actually worried that she wouldn't come back. Did the cheap thrill she got from that make her a sadist?

### Chapter 5

For a minute Jake thought he might actually cry with relief when, instead of leaving him with the world's worst case of blue balls, Kit reappeared with a naughty smile and a condom in one hand.

She paused in the doorway, unabashed in her nudity, looking so beautiful and sexy he thought his heart might burst.

"You didn't really think I was going to leave you."

"I don't know what to expect from you." He jerked against the handcuffs for emphasis.

Somewhere in the midst of their frenzy, her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, and the thick brown strands tickled his cheeks as she kissed him. "Lucky for you," she murmured against his lips, "I'm not done with you yet."

Jake had used the time she'd spent rummaging in the bathroom for a condom to pull himself together, but his control nearly shattered at the feel of her smooth hand against his raging hard-on. Instead of the delicious feel of her fingers as she covered him in latex, he focused on random details of her room: how her dresser was nicked and obviously used; the framed Ansel Adams black and whites that seemed too calm for the vibrant, badass image she seemed to cultivate.

But then she was sliding herself over him, the tight walls of her body gripping him so tight he feared he was going to come right then and there. He clenched his teeth, holding himself back with every sinew in his body as she began to move over him, her back arched, tawny pink nipples jutting out in hard little points until his mouth watered to taste them. He tried to lift himself off the bed, the movement hampered by the handcuffs. "Let me loose," he said, "I need to touch you."

"What if I don't want to?" she said breathlessly, bracing her hands on his chest as she started a slow, lazy pace.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jake drove his hips hard, high enough so he knew she'd feel him against her spine. "Unlock the goddamned handcuffs," he growled, barely recognizing the almost savage tone of his own voice. He thrust again, eliciting a keening moan from between Kit's kiss-bruised lips.

She leaned over and retrieved the key from the bedside table, and in seconds he was free. His hands immediately moved to grasp her hips, holding her still for his slow, deep thrusts as he held a nipple captive between his teeth. Such a little tease, he thought affectionately. Trying to act so tough, leaving him without a good-bye in Mexico and pulling her little dominatrix act on him tonight. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she was as powerless over this thing between them as he was.

Now it was the perfect time for a little demonstration.

***

Kit gasped in surprise as, in one movement, Jake flipped her onto her back and captured her wrists above her head. So enthralled by the feel of him buried impossibly deep inside her, she didn't register the metallic click until she tried to reach her hands up to cradle his head.

Goddamn him! "Let me go." She struggled and bucked against him, but that only served to shove his cock more firmly inside her as her clit ground against his pubic bone. He swallowed her angry sounds of protest with his mouth. She retaliated by biting his lip hard enough to taste blood.

He jerked back, incredulous as he touched his tongue to the wound.

She couldn't decide who was more shocked by her savagery.

She watched him warily as he hung frozen above her, still buried so deep she could feel his pulse inside her body. Then a scared little shiver skittered through her as a positively evil smile spread across his face. "Don't start games you don't want to play, Kit."

She didn't have time to wonder what he meant. She was too horrified by the fact he was rummaging through her nightstand drawer while she lay pinned and helpless to do anything about it. Her journal was in there, along with private mementos and...

"You naughty girl, Kitty Kat." She immediately recognized the small cylindrical object in his hand, along with its telltale hum.

She jerked and moaned as he passed the tip of the vibrator over her nipples, the jolt causing her to spasm around his cock. Unaccountably embarrassed to have him find her sex toy, modest though it may be, she strove for bravado. "Most guys are intimidated by a vibrator. Think they can't match up."

"This little guy?" He held up the white toy, not more than five inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. Deliberately, he slid out of her until just the head of his erection lodged inside her body. He drove himself back in with excruciating leisure. "I don't think I have anything to feel threatened by."

"It's not the size of your boat," she said, the high, thready tone of her voice betraying her.

His slow, steady strokes kept her from finishing the rest of the saying.

Coming up on his knees, he draped her legs over his hips and moved in steady, measured thrusts until she was a moaning, writhing mess who could barely remember that the world existed beyond his cock. Without breaking his pace he traced the vibrator down her belly, resting it just above her mound. Her clit pulsed at the indirect stimulation, and she let out a harsh cry.

Then he froze, halting his thrusts and moving the vibrator away.

Her eyes snapped open and he hung above her, braced on one trembling arm as sweat dripped from his forehead to sizzle on her chest. "Damn it, don't stop," she demanded, but there was a pleading tone in her voice too. She squirmed against him, sure if she could get some leverage she could end this torture for them both.

But he held her hips pinned to the bed, forcing her to stay still before bringing her to the brink again, and a third time, until finally the need to climax had become a physical pain.

"Please," she begged helplessly, hating him for doing this to her, hating herself for being so weak. "You're killing me."

Immediately he came down on top of her, cradling her face in his hands as he whispered his apology. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured against the flushed skin of her cheek. "I'll make it all better."

Sliding his hands behind her knees, he pressed her legs back against her chest. He slid the vibrator against the outside of her labia, as though realizing that her clit was too painfully sensitive for such direct stimulation. Within seconds she came, squeezing her eyes shut as every muscle in her body seized in ecstasy. She was vaguely aware of his shout and the feel of him jerking inside her.

She'd be lucky if the neighbors didn't call the police, what with all the yelling and caterwauling.

Jake nuzzled his face into her neck and murmured something, and for a horrified second Kit was afraid she was going to cry. "Unlock me," she said through gritted teeth.

He fumbled for the key and released her from the handcuffs. Kit immediately jumped from the bed and grabbed her robe. She didn't like the way she felt, shaky and vulnerable and exposed. Didn't like the way Jake could burst into her apartment, into her life, and start chipping away at the wall she'd spent the past twelve years building around herself.

She needed to be alone, regroup, and put this thing with Jake in its proper perspective.

"You need to go," she said curtly.

His dark eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn't budge from her bed.

"I mean it. I have a deadline and I've already wasted enough time with you."

"I had a really long flight and I'm just going to sleep. You won't even know I'm here."

Ha! Like she could possibly relax enough to focus knowing that Mr. Universe and his wonderdick were sprawled out in her bedroom. "No way. Didn't your company book you in a hotel or something? I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable there." As she spoke she flung his pants, boxers, and shirt at him. He swore when she tossed his belt at him and the buckle caught him on the forehead.

"I get the point," he grumbled, rising from the bed. Kit turned her back, knowing if she allowed her eyes to feast on his lean, naked body, she'd end up right back in that bed with him, and deadline be damned.

Needing to get away, she waited for him in the living room, holding out his suit jacket when he emerged, blessedly, clothed.

"You're sure I can't stay?"

"Do you need cab fare?" She did her best to banish the slightly nauseating guilt at the hurt, angry look in his green eyes.

But then the hurt was gone, as a self-sure, slightly amused smile teased at the corners of his full lips. Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. Instead of the fierce kiss she expected, she felt the soft press of his mouth against her forehead, her cheek, and finally her mouth. "Good night, Kit," he whispered. "I'll call you."

She stared blankly at the door for a good five minutes after he left. She felt completely discombobulated. On the surface, her life was exactly the same, but it seemed like it had been taken apart piece by piece and put back together slightly askew, until nothing looked or felt quite right.

The e-mail program on her computer jarred her out of her daze.

What was wrong with her? It was just sex. With Jake Donovan, little seventeen-year-old Kit whispered dreamily.

Like that made a difference. He was just another man, albeit one with more skill in the bedroom than any other she'd ever encountered. Nothing for her to get all bent out of shape about. Still, it was probably best not to see him for the rest of the time he was in town.

She went into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee since she still had hours of work ahead of her. Good thing too since she doubted she'd get any sleep.

But as she sat down at her keyboard, fully prepared to begin the next installment of how evil drug-discovery companies were willing to put patients' lives in danger to pump up the stock a few more points, she found herself instead clicking on her "Stripping It Down" folder.

Inspired, she began to type.

Girls, you'll never believe who showed up at my door, like a poor, pathetic puppy begging me for more...

### Chapter 6

Two days later, and still no call.

Kit wasn't surprised, or upset, she told herself firmly.

Sure, that's why you check your home voice mail twenty times a day and have asked the IT manager if there's something wrong with the email server.

Okay, maybe she was a little upset, but only because the sex with Jake was so beyond anything she'd ever experienced before, and she wanted more. It was that simple.

Thankfully, writing her column for Bustout.com had helped her put her latest evening with Jake in proper perspective.

The article she was working on blurred on her computer screen, and she rubbed her eyes. As a business reporter, she hated earning report time, listening in on endless shareholder calls, and attempting to put her own unique spin on why a particular company did or did not hit their revenue goal this quarter.

Her stomach jumped as her cell phone buzzed on her desk, and she reminded herself that Jake didn't have that number.

It was Tina, the editor in chief at Bustout.com. "Kit, have you seen your numbers this week?"

"I've been so busy here I haven't even had time to go to the site." Bustout had a handy Web program that not only tracked how many people accessed the column but also showed how many times a reader emailed the article to a friend.

Kit glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was lurking in her cube door before she logged into the site. "Holy crap!"

"I know," Tina crowed. "Your last two columns have had fifty percent more readers. And check out your e-mail forwards."

Kit's heart skipped a beat. Her past two columns had been forwarded to no less than five thousand readers.

"You should see the feedback we're getting. Your stories about this guy from your past – readers totally love them."

Kit clicked on a link and logged into her C. Teaser e-mail account, created especially for her column fans to e-mail their thoughts.

Kit's grin grew wider as she scrolled down the list of messages with headings like "You're Hilarious" and "You are my Idol." Her grin wobbled a bit as she reached the end of the page. "You're a Ball Busting Bitch," she read aloud.

"Okay, not everyone loves it," Tina conceded, "but it's provoking a strong reaction, which is just as good."

"Kit, aren't you supposed to be covering the Smith and Downing conference?" her boss snapped irritably.

Kit fumbled for her mouse and closed the Bustout.com window before Tom could see. It was a given that most of the staff writers for the Tribune moonlighted and freelanced, but nothing could get you in hot water with Tom faster than if he thought you were writing for someone else on his time. Checking the clock she realized she did indeed have to get a move on if she wanted to make it to the conference in time for the keynote.

She pasted on an enthusiastic smile and gave Tom a thumbs-up as she started gathering her things. "I have to go," she muttered to Tina.

"Day job, I know. We're all waiting eagerly for the next installment of C. Teaser's blast from the past. Keep writing the way you are, and pretty soon you'll be able to leave the high-tech geeks and investment bankers behind."

Kit powered down her laptop, tucked it into her briefcase, and slung the case over her shoulder. Grabbing her purse, she did a quick check around her desk to make sure she hadn't left anything. She was meeting Elizabeth and Michael, the ecstatic bride-and groom-to-be, near the hotel where the conference was being held, and she didn't want to have to come back to the office. She scooted around Tom, taking care not to brush up against his pot belly as he partially blocked the exit from her cube.

He didn't like her, never had. And she knew exactly why. Because she didn't care about this job, not really. To her it was a means of paying the bills so she could write things she was really interested in. Yet she was talented enough to fulfill her reporter duties with relatively minimal effort and she never made noise about getting promoted to a byline or columnist slot at the paper. So Tom put up with her less than enthusiastic attitude in order to retain a reliable workhorse.

She glanced up just as she was squeezing by him and caught him looking down the front of her tailored button-front shirt. She nonchalantly held her briefcase up to her front so that when he casually tried to lean in he hit leather instead of her breasts.

Tom didn't like her attitude, but it didn't stop him from perving out on her.

She mulled over Tina's news as she walked to the conference.

Readers were going crazy over "Stripping It Down." The thought made her giddy.

But what was she supposed to do now that her source of inspiration didn't seem inclined to come sniffing around anymore?

Was she going to have to admit to her readers that she, C. Teaser, man-eater extraordinaire, had experienced the all-too-common hump and dump?

It was either that or chase Jake down herself – something, as a rule, she never did.

The mere thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. In her world, men were dogs, and she was the cat, and they chased her.

You're Hilarious. You're my Idol. Her readers' e-mails scrolled through her mind. Somehow she had to get Jake back in her bed.

Kit was deathly afraid that this once – purely for the sake of her career – she would have to break her own rules.

***

Jake fought the urge to toss Kit over his shoulder like a caveman as she walked into the Redwood Room. It had been two days since he'd seen her, and he'd barely resisted the nearly overwhelming impulse to call her or drop by her apartment unannounced. It was pure, dumb luck that Michael had e-mailed today to check in. When Michael found out that Jake was in town, he'd immediately invited Jake to join him and his fiancée, Elizabeth, for drinks with Kit.

Now he had the perfect, innocent excuse to see her, all without having to make a call. He'd planned on giving it one more day, instinctively knowing that if he came on too strong, too fast, she would turn tail and run, just like she had in Mexico. Kit had been freaked out the other night, even though she'd tried to hide it behind her tough chick bravado. He recognized her fear because he felt it himself.

Hell, the fact that he'd actually convinced the partners at his firm that he should work out of the San Francisco office for the next month made him break out into a cold sweat. Sure, he had legitimate business out here, but nothing he couldn't get done back in Boston.

He wondered what Kit would do if he admitted he was here on his own dime, that his only goal in visiting San Francisco was to prove to her that what they'd started in Mexico was real.

She'd run so fast she'd leave skid marks. Which was exactly why he'd gone dark for the last two days, to give her time to calm down, give her fear a chance to turn to irritation as she wondered why he hadn't called yet.

As a rule, he despised playing games with women. Jake prided himself on being straight with the women he dated. If he said he was going to call, he did. If he didn't think there was any potential, he said so, as tactfully as possible.

But he knew if he was straight with Kit and actually admitted that he thought she – Christ, it sounded disgustingly sappy in his own head – was "the one," she'd reinforce that wall she'd built around her to the point he'd never get through.

Served him right, he supposed, since he was the one who'd broken her heart by clumsily taking her virginity and never calling again. The fact that he'd wounded her so that even now, years later, the scar hadn't completely healed was evidence that she'd cared deeply about him. Ironically her fear offered the only evidence that he wasn't completely insane in his quest to win her heart.

Kit was scanning the room for their party, and Jake took the opportunity to watch her unobserved. Today she was wearing a suit, and she looked like the prototypical businesswoman fantasy come to life. Though the brown fabric was cut conservatively, the fitted jacket skimmed her curves, and her white button-front shirt was open at the neck, barely hinting at a perfectly tasteful amount of cleavage. Her skirt ended just above the knee and showed off the long line of her nicely toned calves. His mouth watered as he remembered skimming his lips up the smoothly muscled length as it rested on his shoulder.

She spotted them where they occupied a leather sofa in the back of the bar. He watched her wide gray-blue eyes register recognition, surprise at his presence, and finally pleasure that she couldn't quite disguise at seeing him there. He didn't even realize he'd been anxious until he saw that little smile. Even in his anticipation, he'd been worried that she'd still be too freaked out to let him get close again.

He took pure, animal pleasure in watching her as she walked toward them with an easy, unhurried stride. Elizabeth, seated in the middle of the two men, pointedly shoved over closer to Michael so Kit would have no choice but to sit pressed up against Jake. Jake slid toward the end of the couch, giving Kit just enough room to slide her hips in. As she sat her scent filled his nostrils, a fresh mix of perfume and shampoo that made him want to release her thick brown hair from its clip and bury his face in the curve of her neck.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said as she sat. The feel of her warm weight settling against him was enough to bring his cock to instant, aching attention. The way her tits bounced as she shimmied out of her jacket didn't help. Kit sat back, caught him watching, and raised a knowing eyebrow.

"Hope you don't mind that I invited Jake along," Michael said as he motioned the waitress over.

Kit ran her tongue deliberately over the plump, glossy curve of her lips. "I don't mind at all."

Jake grinned back and stretched his arm along the back of the couch, lust pounding through his veins when he felt her casually rest her palm on his thigh.

Patience. Pretty soon he would have Kit right where he wanted her.

***

I've got him right where I want him. Kit couldn't believe her good luck. Saved from having to chase Jake down in the interest of good column fodder! If it wouldn't have earned her a slap from Elizabeth, she'd lean over and kiss Michael in gratitude.

She'd been a little worried when she'd seen him, unable to completely suppress the insecure teenager who still lurked inside. What if he really had no interest in seeing her again? Men were easy enough, and she was confident that she'd be able to get him to sleep with her again at the very least. But the idea of having to work at it didn't sit right with her.

But given the way Jake was eyeing her the way a lion eyes a steak, she had nothing to worry about.

And, Kit admitted, she was equally eager to have him drag her off and pin her against the closest flat surface.

The next hour seemed interminable as they sipped their drinks and talked about Elizabeth and Michael's upcoming nuptials. A month and a half away, the wedding had Elizabeth wired so tight it was a wonder she didn't spontaneously combust. No wonder she was pounding the wine like it was water.

"Kit, you're one of my besht – best friends," Elizabeth slurred. "I really love you, you know?"

Oh no. Elizabeth had crossed the line from happily tipsy to "I love you, man" drunk.

"I love you too," Kit said gently, returning her friend's sloppy hug and pulling a face at Michael over her shoulder.

"But I worry about you," Elizabeth continued, grabbing her wineglass and not seeming to notice when she missed her mouth completely and spilled down her chin. She looked at the napkins Kit handed her as

though she was not sure what to do with them.

Jake chuckled behind her, and Kit shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"I don't know why you would worry about me," Kit said to Elizabeth.

"Becaushe you need to find love, Kit. Everyone needs love."

Oh God, here we go. "There is nothing wrong with my love life," she said, though she recognized the futility of arguing with a woman who'd eaten nothing but lettuce all day in an effort to fit into her designer wedding dress and then consumed an entire bottle of chardonnay.

"You have all these men, Kit, like that Max, Mort""

"Matt?" Kit supplied.

"Yeah, that one with all the tattoos?" Elizabeth scowled at the memory. "Dint like 'im." She belched a little, and Kit could feel Jake shaking with suppressed laughter. "Stupid tortured writer type."

Kit sighed but couldn't deny Elizabeth's assessment of poor maligned Matt.

"Shee, you have these men, Kit, but you don't have love. Don't you want to find someone to love, someone you can get sherious about""

"Okay little matchmaker," Michael broke in, "let's get you home."

He pulled Elizabeth to her feet and mouthed, "Sorry," silently to Kit over her head. Kit waved his apology away. The poor woman was planning a ridiculously lavish wedding for nearly four hundred people while running her own interior design business. It was enough to drive any woman to drink.

"Like my Mikey," Elizabeth said dreamily as Michael got her to her feet, supporting her with one arm wrapped around her waist. "Don't you want a man just like my Mikey?"

Frankly, no, Kit thought as she took in Mike's dirty blond, slightly thinning hair; his medium frame with shoulders that were showing the first signs of corporate slump, and a midsection that hadn't revealed an ab muscle in a decade. But Elizabeth adored him and he treated her like a queen, so maybe there was something to that.

"So tell me more about these men Elizabeth mentioned," Jake said as they sat back down and watched Michael guide his inebriated fiancée to the door. "I didn't know I was among legions."

Though he tried to keep his tone light, the derisive edge was unmistakable. "Typical sexist response," she said, pinning him with a look of disgust. "Not that it's any of your business, but you're not 'one among legions,' as you so charmingly put it." The way he said it conjured up an image of her lying naked and spread-eagled on her bed, pushing a guy off her even as she yelled, "Next."

Is that what he thought of her? So what if he did. She didn't give a crap.

"How many?" he said tightly, taking a big gulp of his vodka tonic as though bracing himself.

"Total? Or just this week?" A frisson of unease trickled through her veins as she met his icy green glare. His question didn't deserve an answer, yet she heard herself say, "More than can be counted on one hand, but fewer than can be counted on both." She took a hearty sip of cabernet and waited for his reaction.

"Total, or just this week?" he mocked.

"What about you?" she shot back. "Big stud like you, I'm sure you've had your share of tail. If I recall correctly, all four of you

The Donovan boys were notorious along the north shore." Their little town was right outside Lake Tahoe, near some of the best skiing and mountain sports in the country. As such, there was always a steady inflow of tourists, and Kit could feel her smile harden as she remembered all the stories she'd heard about Jake and some ski bunny or other.

A dark flush stained his cheekbones, evident even in the dim light of the bar.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said, telling herself she couldn't care less about Jake's lovers that came before or after her. So why did the thought of him with another woman cause the wine to curdle in her gut?

Chalking it up to drinking on an empty stomach, Kit firmly reminded herself of her purpose. Taunting Jake about his sexual past and luring him into a combative conversation about sexual double standards was not going to help her write her columns.

Luckily he seemed equally eager to change the conversation's course. But not in the direction she would have liked. "So do you want to find love, Kit?"

Maybe I already have. The thought barely had time to register before she thrust it away. They had to get off this track, fast, before she said something she really regretted. Turning to face him, she set her wineglass on the table and slid her palm slowly up his thigh. Steely muscles jumped through the fabric, the heat of his skin coursing through her fingers. "Not tonight," she whispered. "Tonight I'll settle for good, old-fashioned lust."

The distraction was effective – for both of them. A hot pulse of said lust surged between her legs as Jake pulled her face close for a greedy, tongue-thrusting kiss. One hand traced the bare skin of her calf, up over her thigh, traveling upward to squeeze the curve of her ass in his big, broad palm. For several minutes they made out on the couch like two crazed teenagers in the back of a bus. It was only as Kit's hand trailed down his abs toward his waistband that Jake seemed to come to his senses.

Lucky for her, since she'd been about to get them both arrested for lewd conduct.

Grabbing her briefcase in one hand and her in the other, Jake steered her out onto the street. The cold air brought her partially back to her senses. Even at this relatively late hour, this part of the city was crowded with the shoppers and diners that frequented San Francisco's Union Square neighborhood.

Kit cursed. They needed a cab, now. She barely recognized the sexcrazed woman who seemed to take over her body whenever Jake so much as laid a finger on her, but if she didn't get him inside her, and soon, her entire body was going to burst into flame.

Jake tugged at her arm, hurrying her along. She prayed his hotel was close.

Apparently Jake had another destination in mind. After a block or so, he yanked her into an alley between two buildings, dropped her briefcase, and unceremoniously pinned her up against a cold brick wall. His mouth met hers with bruising force. "I can't wait," he muttered between his tongue's luscious forays. "I have to get inside of you."

Wet heat surged between her thighs, her pussy clenching in anticipation. Still..."What if someone sees us?"

"Don't tell me," he whispered as he bit and sucked at her neck, "an experienced, sophisticated," she moaned as his hand clamped firmly over her mound, "woman like you would let a little thing like getting caught stop her." His fingers yanked the crotch of her thong aside and sank into her hot, willing folds. "I didn't think so," he said, pumping his fingers in and out, finding her more than ready.

Big hands shoved her skirt up around her hips. Kit yanked open his belt and tugged on his fly, groaning when his rock-hard cock surged against her hands.

"You make me so hard," he whispered, thrusting against her fist as he fumbled in his back pocket for his wallet. "It's only been two days, but I feel like I've been missing you for years."

She pulled him closer until the tip of his shaft brushed against her slick, wet core. His hand shoved hers aside to roll on a condom. "Are you always this prepared?"

He lifted her with a husky chuckle, pinning her firmly against the wall and hooking one leg up over his elbow. "If I was lucky enough to see you again," his voice hitched on a groan as he sank all the way in, "I wanted to be ready." He ground hard against her, pulled almost all the way out as her greedy inner muscles quivered and grasped to keep him buried deep.

Kit started to come as he shoved back inside. The back of her head ground against the rough brick wall; her leg gripped his hip as she struggled to press herself against him more firmly. A high, keening wail erupted from her throat, and Jake's hand came up to cover her mouth. She writhed and squirmed against him as he thrust in hard, heavy strokes, grinding the base of his shaft against her clit, making her orgasm go on and on.

He came with a softly hissed curse, replacing his hand with his lips to take her mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss.

Kit barely felt him pull out and straighten her skirt, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. Holy crap, she'd just had sex in public – in an alley, for God's sake! Never in her life had she so completely lost control, especially when it came to sex. She watched Jake ditch the condom in a nearby dumpster and zip up his fly.

This was insane. The whole encounter had taken less than five minutes, and other than a couple of rumpled shirtfronts, their clothing had barely been disturbed.

With shaky hands she twisted her hair back up into a knot and secured it with her clip. Jake picked up her briefcase, and she wrapped her shaky fingers around the handle of her purse. She'd dropped it at some point during their ten-second foreplay.

He slid his hand around her waist and nuzzled his face against her neck. "I want to get you home and get you naked," he murmured.

Unbelievably, her nipples immediately went rock hard and her pussy clenched in primitive response. Kit chose not to dwell on her disturbing, overwhelming response to Jake and instead focused on the fact that if she could keep him around for the next month, "Stripping It Down" would have ample source material.

### Chapter 7

Jake went home with Kit that night and never left. Three weeks later he sat at her kitchen table drinking coffee in his boxers and eating his Cheerios as though he owned the place.

She eyed him over the Entertainment section of the paper, still not entirely sure how this had all happened.

First his toothbrush had appeared next to hers. Next, his razor took up permanent residence on her sink. Soon after, he'd started bringing a spare change of clothing, until finally, Sunday afternoon he'd arrived with his suitcase and asked her for a spare key.

Like an idiot she'd given him one.

Other items had followed. Instead of being used as a receptacle for nail polish and leftover takeout, her refrigerator now contained a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, milk, and beer. Even as it gave her pause, Kit had to admit it was nice to wake up and always have milk for her coffee.

Still, just because Jake was acting like a live-in boyfriend didn't actually make him one. After all, he was leaving in a little over a week to return to Boston, at which point she fully expected him to end their affair. Because despite his proprietary move into her apartment and into her life, he'd said nothing about wanting a commitment beyond what they currently had.

Which is more than fine with me, she reminded herself firmly.

Though she would miss the sight of him half-naked in her kitchen.

Unable to resist, she moved behind him, sliding her fingers through the dusting of black curls covering his world-class chest. He tilted his head back and she kissed him, the taste of hot coffee and hotter man nearly bringing her to her knees. Though she'd never admit it, there was something to this full-time boyfriend thing.

Not that she thought of Jake that way. Unfortunately, despite Kit's assertions to the contrary, Elizabeth had started referring to them as a unit, inviting them out as a pair, even going so far as to change Kit's hotel reservation for the wedding so she and Jake could stay together.

Even her editor at Bustout had gotten on the bandwagon. "What does your boyfriend think of these columns?" she'd asked Kit just last week.

"He doesn't," Kit had replied, "because he doesn't know about them. Besides, he's not my boyfriend," she'd said tersely, "he's research."

"Damn, you're cold." Tina laughed. "I almost feel sorry for the poor guy. Whatever he is, try to get him to stick around for a while, because thanks to you, the site's never been more popular."

At the time, Kit had been surprised not to feel the expected elation at her column's popularity. It was true though; her column – and consequently Bustout.com – had experienced a surge in readership over the past three weeks. And Kit had even received e-mails from her friends with copies of her own column, exclaiming over this hilarious, clever column that she just had to read.

Instead she'd been brooding over what Tina said. She tried to convince herself that C. Teaser was just a facade, a persona she put on for the entertainment of women everywhere. But when she thought about how she was using Jake for material, she wondered if that cold, calculating man-eater was the real Kit after all.

As she felt Jake's hands reach up to stroke her forearms, she tried to banish the guilt that snuck up on her more and more frequently these days. As though to remind herself not to get foolishly caught up in the haze of great sex and warm emotions Jake awoke in her, she had taken on a particularly harsh tone in "Stripping It Down" in the past couple of weeks. She'd purposely made Jake out to be a sex-hungry, pussy-whipped idiot held firmly in her thrall.

Which was so far from the wickedly intelligent, funny, charismatic, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous man that he was.

She buried her face in his hair as a voice whispered, not for the first time, that she was on the verge of completely screwing up her relationship with the one man she could spend the rest of her life with.

She banished the thought before it could take root, reminding herself of her purpose. She was with Jake only to further her writing career. And if she got some great sex and nice dinners out of the deal, hey, she'd take the perks.

"Ouch," Jake winced, tugging her hands away from his chest.

Kit didn't realize she'd been unconsciously digging her nails into his skin. She muttered an apology and made to move away, but he grabbed her wrists, staying her. "What are you doing tonight after work?"

"I was planning on working on a freelance project." Truth was, the latest edition of "Stripping It Down" was due tomorrow, and she hadn't been able to come up with anything good.

"Any chance you could join me for a work dinner?"

Kit stiffened and straightened. Going out together with their mutual friends was one thing. In her world, at least, you brought a date to work functions only when you were ready to admit to the world you were using the "BF GF" words. Which was why in the three years she'd worked at the Tribune, she'd never had a date to the holiday party.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," she hedged. "I mean I'm not, we're not," she stammered. Crap. The last thing she wanted was to get roped into one of those "state of the relationship" talks.

Jake managed to completely distract her simply by standing up. He was so much taller that her braless breasts were pressed against his abs, and against her stomach she could feel the bulge in his boxers stirring in interest. Her body responded like Pavlov's dog, even though he'd woken her up this morning with his tongue buried between her legs.

"It's not a big deal, Kit. Everyone else is bringing their wives and girlfriends, and I'll stick out as the odd guy if I go alone. Don't read anything into it."

His green eyes were bright with amusement, and she saw nothing in them to make her doubt his assertion that this was nothing more than a casual favor to him.

Damn, if she really wanted a relationship with him, her heart might actually break right now.

"Fine," she agreed, resigning herself to a long evening with stuffy venture capitalists and their trophy wives and girlfriends. "Tell me when and where."

***

Surprisingly, the dinner wasn't nearly as hellish as Kit had feared. Jake's surprised delight at seeing her hadn't hurt. After taking in her tight navy turtleneck sweater, chocolate brown pencil skirt, and knee-high chocolate suede boots, he'd pressed a kiss to her ear and murmured, "You look great."

Which made her glad she hadn't gone with the deep V-neck blouse and red ankle-strap fuck me pumps she'd been tempted to wear just to shake things up.

It was clear Jake was the baby in his firm, as most of the West Coast partners – the "younger crowd," Jake had assured her – were at least five years older than Jake's thirty-four. She couldn't help but be a little awed by his undeniable success at such a comparatively young age.

Not that it surprised her. Even back in high school, Jake had exuded that certain something, like a pheromone, something that assured the world that he would never be average. It was what had made her fall in love with him in the first place.

What kind of a moron had she been, thinking he would find her equally special?

The thought drew her up short. Since when did she succumb to feminine insecurity? Besides, the woman she was now was twelve years and miles away from caring about whether any man – Jake Donovan included – found her "special."

Still, she was enjoying the solicitous boyfriend act he was putting on, holding her hand under the table, making sure her wineglass was full, smiling admiringly as she spoke intelligently about many of the companies the firm had invested in. It was rare that her business reporting background felt like a social asset. Most of her friends weren't particularly interested in tech trends and the latest CEO shakeups.

The only black mark on the evening was the fiancée of one of the other partners, a shrill, skinny woman around Kit's age. Once Amy, a junior PR exec, had heard Kit was a business reporter, she'd immediately launched into a list of her clients and all the reasons Kit should write feature stories on each and every one of them.

That is, when she wasn't drooling over Jake like she wanted to spread death by chocolate icing over his body and lick him clean.

"You must work out," Amy said to Jake, her eyes flickering hungrily over him from across the table. Her fiancé; a stocky dark haired man with a thick neck and well-developed paunch, didn't seem to notice.

Jake smiled uneasily. "I get to the gym when I can."

"Come on," Amy said, fluttering her eyelashes as though a grasshopper had just landed on her eyeball, "you don't get a body like that with occasional trips to the gym. What's your secret?"

Kit's fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. Of course she wasn't jealous. She never let herself care enough to be jealous. But she did believe in a code of conduct among single women. In Kit's world, one did not flirt with another woman's date.

The wicked devil who'd urged Kit to dress like a slut made another appearance on her shoulder. Leaning over the table, Kit said in a low voice so the rest of the table couldn't hear, "I'm very demanding. I keep him in shape with our marathon fuck sessions."

Amy's mouth sagged open, and her fiancé , who'd apparently been paying attention to the whole exchange, laughed so hard he shot wine out of his nose.

Almost immediately Kit wished she could take it back. It was a special talent of hers, having a few glasses of wine and making some scathing or inappropriate remark. In situations like this, her internal editor clicked off and she forgot that not everyone thought she was funny, even if she found herself hilarious.

For all that she tried to convince herself she didn't care, she didn't want to embarrass Jake in front of his coworkers.

Kit turned to Jake, almost afraid of what she'd see. There was no shock, anger, or even embarrassment on his face. His expression was one of smug pride that said he was the luckiest man in the room and he damn well knew it.

"What can I say," he said, sliding a hand across her shoulders. "If she put out a workout DVD she'd be richer than that Tae Bo guy."

Oh. My. God. She froze in shock, wineglass halfway to her lips.

He gets me. This man who I've written off as the first and worst dog in my life understands me better than anyone I've ever met. She felt like she was falling headfirst into the mischievous warmth of his eyes. Not only that, he's actually charmed by me. A panicky feeling swelled in her chest, and she was saved from having to analyze this new, terrifying revelation by the announcement that after-dinner drinks were now being served in the bar.

She caught Jake's hand before he could follow the others. "Come with me," she said, tugging him down the hallway toward the restrooms.

She was suddenly edgy, restless, compelled to show him that she felt...something. Something she was in no way prepared to put into words.

She pulled him into the women's restroom and shoved him into the handicapped stall.

"Kit, we shouldn't –"

Pushing his back against the door, she sank to her knees and ripped open his fly. "Don't tell me," she whispered, pulling his pants and boxers below his hips, "that an experienced, sophisticated man such as yourself would let something like getting caught stop him."

He laughed softly to hear his words thrown in his face, the sound morphing into a moan as she grasped his pulsing erection in her fist and ran her tongue down its entire length. Grasping him around the base, she rasped her tongue along the underside, lavishing special attention on the spot just below the velvety plum-shaped head. He tasted so good, like salty man skin and earthy musk. The feel of him throbbing against her tongue made her thighs squeeze against the aching pulse of her sex.

Big hands threaded in her hair, guiding her motion as she sucked him as deep as she could, feeling him against the back of her throat, fingers coming up to tease his sac. In the past three weeks she'd come to know his body as well as she knew her own, knew exactly how to touch him to bring him to immediate, explosive release.

Now she used every trick in the book, trying to convey without words that despite all her efforts to the contrary, she'd actually come to care, that he was amazing in so many ways, that this month with him had brought her more happiness than she'd ever thought possible.

His groans echoed off the tile as her fingers cradled his balls and her fist pumped him hard and fast. Her lips sucked and teased the head, and just when she knew he was on the very brink, she sucked him deep, relaxing her throat muscles as he exploded into her mouth. She milked him of every last drop of come, kissing the tip one last time

before tucking him back in his boxers.

Jake pulled her gently to her feet and closed his mouth over hers, groaning into her mouth as his hand started to draw her skirt up her thighs. She gently brushed him off.

"Don't you want me to?"

She pressed a finger against his lips, unable to stifle the tiniest of moans when he sucked it into his mouth. "That was all for you."

His slow, crooked smile was worthy of a toothpaste ad. "I need to know what I did to deserve it, so I can do it every day for the rest of my life."

Even though she knew he didn't really mean anything by it, she was stunned that his use of the phrase "the rest of my life" in relation to her didn't send her into a tailspin of panic.

***

Kit woke up early the next morning to check her e-mail. For the first time ever, seeing all the praise for "Stripping It Down" didn't fill her with thrilled pride. Instead she felt a little nauseated. Last night she'd been forced to acknowledge that what she and Jake shared was special, beautiful even, and it wasn't right for her to denigrate it for

the sake of entertainment.

She comforted herself with the knowledge that, at the very least, neither Jake nor any of her friends knew of her bitchy alter ego, and if she stopped now Jake would never know how she'd used their relationship to boost her column's readership.

As though reading her mind, Tina called at that very moment. "Kit,

I'm sorry it's so early, but you'll never guess what happened." Even through the phone, Kit could hear Tina quivering with excitement like a Chihuahua.

Kit cut her off. "Actually I'm glad you called. I need some help brainstorming column ideas. I have to stop writing about Jake."

Tina was completely silent for several moments. "No, Kit, you can't stop now. That's why I called. An editor from Hardin Publishing just called me. She got a hold of your column and wanted to know if

we, that is, you and Bustout, would be interested in putting together a collection of columns for a "Stripping It Down' book."

The handset slid from her numb fingers.

"Kit? Are you there?"

Kit fumbled on the floor for the phone. "A book? Are you serious?"

"Not only that," Tina said, "she said she has a friend at Bella magazine who might be interested in buying the rights and giving you a monthly spot."

A monthly column in a national magazine? And a book? This was better than she'd ever dreamed.

"I'd hate to lose you," Tina was chattering, "but if they buy the rights we can expand the editorial staff. The only thing is," Kit braced herself for the catch," she wants to see more. She really likes the work you've done in the six months that you've been writing for us, but she thinks the last month's worth has been really stellar, and she wants to be sure you can keep writing at that level."

Kit squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach clenched. The last month. The Jake Chronicles, as she'd started calling them in her head. She looked at the door of the bedroom, behind which he slept in blissful ignorance, having no clue that to thousands of readers, he was the anonymous, brainless dick attached to a body being sorely used and abused by one C. Teaser.

He'll never know. That's why you came up with the pseudonym in the first place.

But how was she going to keep the truth from him once she had a book published?

You know damn well he'll be gone and out of your life long before it ever hits the shelves.

That thought stopped her cold. But who was she trying to kid? Jake was leaving soon, and the fact that she'd come to care for him was irrelevant. She certainly wasn't about to sacrifice her career for him.

"Tell her to keep reading," Kit said. "Tell her the next week's column should be my best ever."

### Chapter 8

Jake glanced up as his e-mail whistled, relieved to have an excuse to stop reading the business plan spread out on his desk. Normally he could skim through these things in five minutes and absorb all the pertinent details. Lately his concentration was shot, and he knew exactly who to blame.

He clicked open the message from Michael, a forward of some column he'd found on the Web. Michael had added his own forward, Makes you glad we caught a couple of the nice ones, huh?

Jake usually ignored the jokes and things forwarded by his friends, but he found himself immediately engaged by the author's lacerating wit and undeniable flair for humor. He read the column with a combination of amusement and horror. Entitled "Stripping It Down" and written by a woman with the oh-so appropriate moniker C. Teaser, it was like an extra-harsh version of Sex and the City. This C. Teaser apparently had some schmuck by the short and curlies, leading him around by his dick until she tired of him, which, she assured her readers, would happen very soon.

Whoever the guy was, Jake felt sorry for the poor sap.

Oh, like you're one to talk.

He shook his head. Four weeks. Four weeks in San Francisco chasing Kit around and he wasn't any closer to having any sort of permanent relationship with her. Christ almighty. He had sex with her every night, had essentially moved into her apartment, and he was still afraid that if he referred to her as his girlfriend she'd run for the hills.

What an ass. For a guy who had a reputation for aggression, who was known for his ability to turn a no into a yes, he sure was acting like a pussy.

Of course, he'd never in his life faced the possibility of a rejection that had the potential to make or break the rest of his life.

Makes you glad we caught a couple of the nice ones, huh?

Honestly, Jake wasn't sure he had. After all this time, he still didn't know what to make of Kit. Sure, the sex was amazing, explosive, and while he was inside her he knew she wasn't holding anything back, knew that she was giving him everything she had.

And afterward she'd look at him, and for a few brief seconds there was no wariness, no distance, no wall in place to keep him from seeing what she really felt. And in those seconds he was sure she loved him as much as he loved her.

But inevitably the wall went up. She'd roll out of bed to take a shower or catch up on work. Anything to distance herself from the intimacy they'd just shared. Then he'd wake up in the morning with her nestled up against him like she couldn't get close enough.

This is bullshit, he thought angrily as he picked up the phone. He had to go back to Boston in a week, and by this time he'd fully expected to be planning a permanent move here to San Francisco, or hers to Boston. He'd even gone ring shopping the other day. But he, Jake Donovan, the guy who never let anyone or anything keep him from getting exactly what he wanted, had chickened out. Holding the three-carat diamond solitaire in his hand, he'd imagined proposing to Kit. And instead of immeasurable joy, maybe even a few happy tears, he'd imagined her eyes widening in horror as she gently patted his hand and told him that, while she appreciated the gesture, she simply didn't feel "that way" about him.

And like a wimp he'd handed back the ring that would look perfect on her slim, long-fingered hand and skulked out of the store.

Frowning, he picked up his phone and punched in Kit's number. Enough of this crap. He was sick of pussyfooting around trying to manipulate her into giving him what he wanted. Tonight they were going to sit down and have a good, long talk, and he was going to show some balls and actually admit how he felt. No more game playing. No more pretending that this was nothing but sex simply to keep her in her comfort zone.

Tonight he was going to make Kit face some hard truths about the true state of their relationship.

And if she hit the ground running? At least he'd know he tried, but the mere thought of her dumping him pinched like an icy fist in his gut.

Kit answered on the second ring.

"Meet me for dinner tonight," he said curtly. "We have some things we need to discuss."

He was met with silence. Maybe he should have tried for a friendlier tone.

"I can't," she replied. "I have other plans."

"Other plans?" It stuck in his craw that after all this time, he still had to make plans with her in advance, that she didn't check in with him before making plans on her own like she would if they were actually a real couple.

Until now, he had purposely avoided questioning her, not wanting to cramp her style or give her reason to bolt. He had no such reservations now. "What kind of plans? Why didn't you check with me?"

"I didn't realize I had to check in with you, Daddy," she said, sarcasm oozing through the phone lines.

"What plans?" he repeated.

She paused. "A work thing," she said finally.

In the month he'd been here, she'd remarked several times that unlike his own job, she was grateful that her job at the Tribune required almost no work-based socialization. "A work thing," he said skeptically.

"It's for a freelance project, something I've been working on." Her voice was uncharacteristically flustered.

"Fine. I'll see you back at your apartment." He hung up, glaring at the phone as though it were her face. Something wasn't adding up.

She'd been acting evasive for the past week. Just last week he'd gone to her office to invite her to lunch, only to find that she was out. When he'd asked her about it later she'd told him she was out with a friend.

Two nights she'd arrived home late, offering sketchy details about where she'd been. And more than once he'd interrupted her working at home, only to have her immediately close whatever she was working on before he could see.

Was it possible she was seeing someone else? The mere thought of another man's hands on her, touching her, caressing her, having unbridled access to her smooth, tan skin and silky wet warmth, made him want to puke. Jake, who'd never been jealous over a woman in his life, struggled to contain the rage that surged at the mere thought of another man so much as looking at the woman he'd claimed as his.

***

Kit slowly unlocked the dead bolt of her front door. It was past midnight and she prayed Jake was asleep as she tiptoed into the room. Her head throbbed with a combination of guilt and frustration. She'd spent the last several hours with Tina and the editor from Hardin Publishing, who had flown out from New York specifically to go over the book deal she was putting together for Kit.

But instead of feeling elated over her soon-to-be-skyrocketing career, she felt ill. For the past week she'd walked around feeling like venomous snakes were nibbling her insides. In addition to her regular columns, she'd written several extra pieces for the book, all about Jake.

She'd cried as she'd sent the most recent one last night, in which she'd written the biggest lie of her career.

My little puppy is returning home soon, and I can hardly wait.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of regular sex, and this little doggie's no slouch. But lately he's been hanging on my bra straps, and I'm starting to feel a little...constrained.

The truth was, she was dreading Jake's departure but didn't know what to do about it. He hadn't mentioned anything about what would happen once he went home to Boston, and she'd been so busy and so consumed with guilt that she hadn't been able to work up the courage to bring it up herself.

Still, she was pretty good at reading people, and every look, every act, every touch told her Jake cared. Any uncertainty about their relationship was entirely her fault. She was the one putting it at risk with her skittish, and lately sneaky, behavior. And judging by his tone earlier today, he was obviously irritated, suspicious of her sudden spate of meetings and plans that had nothing to do with him.

What was she going to do? Though she'd vowed not to let whatever it was she and Jake had interfere with this amazing career opportunity, she could no longer deny that she cared for him. Deeply. Somehow, that naive, unrealistic, idealistic teenager had taken over, reminding her of all the reasons she'd fallen in love with Jake then, and why she really, really liked him now.

Yet if they did get serious, what would she tell him? She couldn't keep her book and her new column a secret forever. What could she say? Oh, by the way, Jake, I write this really mean-spirited column and I've completely exploited our sex life and made you look like a complete boob. And you better get used to it because I'll probably have to mock the most amazing relationship I've ever had for the foreseeable future.

For a woman who prided herself on avoiding male-related complications, she'd somehow managed to land herself in a huge, freaking mess.

Kit didn't turn on the light as she entered her apartment, hoping she could sneak in and slide into bed next to Jake and pretend for a few more hours that she hadn't completely screwed up her life.

The lamp clicked on, and she shrieked and dropped her purse. Jake sat in her overstuffed leather club chair, a glass in his hand.

"A little late, isn't it?" he asked in a voice so cold she expected to see icicles forming off the tip of her nose.

Cornered, she struggled for her usual bravado. "You've been sitting here in the dark like some modern-day Mr. Rochester? How very gothic of you."

He pushed himself up, tossing back the last of whatever liquor remained in his glass before setting the glass down on the side table.

"Where were you, Kit?" He walked toward her slowly, and she got the uncomfortable sensation that she was being stalked.

"I told you, I had a meeting," she snapped. At least that much was true, and she hoped he didn't press for details. She could bullshit over the phone, no problem, and had no compunction about embellishing for effect, but she had a really hard time maintaining her poker face when caught in a bald-faced lie.

Finally he was so close she could smell the familiar musk and sandalwood scent of his skin, mixed with the smoky aroma of scotch on his breath. She wanted to lick the taste off his lips, but his demeanor didn't exactly encourage affection.

"Are you cheating on me?"

She took a step back, stunned. Part of her was so relieved that he wasn't pressing her for details about her meeting that she nearly laughed. But that urge was overtaken by irritation. What kind of person did he think she was? Did he really think she could have him living in her apartment, have crazy, unrestrained sex with him every single day, all while fooling around with someone else? She ignored the little whisper that said he had a right to be suspicious, given the way she'd been scurrying around lately.

Instead, she did what she always did and copped an attitude.

"Cheating? Cheating would imply we have some sort of exclusive relationship," she pointed out dryly, "which we don't. But if you want to know if I'm screwing anyone else, the answer is no."

***

Kit's body language — head and shoulders back, arms crossed firmly over her breasts, one dark eyebrow raised imperiously — screamed "Don't touch," but Jake grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her firmly against him. Relief coursed through him. Kit was still hiding something from him — of that he had no doubt — but it wasn't another man. She'd been a terrible liar as a kid, something that hadn't changed in the past twelve years. He knew she wasn't lying about being with somebody else.

So what was it, then?

He pushed the question aside. Now wasn't the time to care.

After all his patience, maneuvering, and attempts to manipulate, it had come down to this. He was going to have to bare his soul. Tell Kit that he'd fallen head over heels all over again in Mexico, and he'd come out to San Francisco with some ridiculous scheme to get her to fall in love with him. And pray that she didn't either laugh in his face or run screaming for the door.

"Kit, I have to go back to Boston soon," he began. Her blue-gray eyes were unreadable as he fumbled for what to say next.

"And?" Her hands had dropped to her sides, and though she didn't pull away from him, she didn't embrace him back either.

"Fuck it," he muttered, releasing her to plow frustrated hands through his hair, "no reason to beat around the bush."

She regarded him warily, and no wonder, since he'd started to pace and was muttering to himself like he was some kind of psycho.

"Jake, I know what you're going to say, and —"

"I love you, Kit."

His stomach dropped to somewhere around ankle level when he was met with stunned silence.

Finally she managed to croak out, "What?"

"I love you," he repeated, cradling her face in his hands, seeing the raw panic in her eyes. "I didn't come out to San Francisco for business, Kit. I came out for you. I fell in love with you in Mexico — hell, I think I loved you when you were still in high school. But when I saw you in Mexico last month, I just knew. I knew you were it. I know I hurt you a long time ago. I acted like a complete jackass, and I'd do anything if I could go back and change what happened. But that was years ago, and this is now. And I've tried to be patient, tried to give you space to figure it out on your own, but I'm running out of time, and I love you, Kit." He stopped to take a breath, feeling a faint tremor course through his entire body.

Or was it her? Her hands, as she lifted them to cover his, were shaking too, and in her eyes he saw naked vulnerability and fear. And underneath it, some fierce emotion that sent the first tendrils of hope radiating out from his chest. "This is it, Kit," he said, keeping his gaze locked on hers, "no more games, just the truth. I'm laying it all out, and I need you to do the same."

### Chapter 9

Kit gripped his hands for dear life, trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking of her body.

He loves me. He LOVES me!!!!

Joy poured through her veins. Jake Donovan didn't merely like her, didn't simply care for her, he loved her. And he'd fabricated an excuse to live in San Francisco for a month to prove it. To be with her. Joy was immediately replaced by panic at the way he was looking at her, his killer green eyes so full of hope, fear, and expectation.

What did Kit know of love? She'd spent her entire adult life killing every tender emotion, every romantic impulse that smacked of the idiot girl who'd been used and tossed aside years ago.

But she cradled his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her fingers, loving the way his day-old beard rasped against her skin. Despite all her efforts, she realized, she loved him too. She opened her mouth but couldn't force the words past the lump in her throat, even though she knew how much he wanted to hear them.

Frustrated tears blurred her eyes. Stupid jerk. Why can't you just say it? I love you. Three words, three easy syllables. Her mouth opened but no words came out.

"It's okay," he whispered against her mouth, tongue stealing out to trace her parted lips. "You don't have to say it back tonight. But tell me you care. Tell me you'll give us a chance."

Kit kissed him back fiercely, trying to convey in that one caress all the emotion she felt but couldn't bring herself to put into words.

She pulled away and buried her face in the warm skin of his neck, breathing him in, feeling his big body surrounding her as he wrapped her in his arms. "For so long I've been afraid to let myself love anyone," she whispered. "But I think with you I'm finally ready to risk it."

It may not have been "I love you too," but it was something, and tonight it was apparently enough for Jake. Tilting Kit's chin up he said, "I'll never let you regret it." His eyes were so full of love and desire Kit felt a fresh onslaught of tears and cursed herself for being so damn girly.

They made their way to her bedroom, stopping often to kiss, leaving a trail of discarded clothing across her living room. Closing the door, Jake paused in front of the full-length mirror mounted to the back.

In the dim light cast by her bedside lamp their skin looked sleek and golden, and the sight of Jake's ropy arm wrapped around her front, his big hand splayed proprietarily across her stomach, sent a fresh wave of moisture between her legs.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered, and she saw his lips tickle the side of her neck at the same instant she felt the waft of his breath. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Both arms slid around her now, pulling her back firmly against his front, and she saw her throat arch back as she felt the hard, insistent prod of his cock against the small of her back. Both of them watched, mesmerized by the sight of his palms sliding lightly down her stomach, over her hips, down the fronts of her thighs, until Kit was practically quivering in his arms.

His hands on her skin were the most erotic thing she'd ever seen, and in that second she understood what drove normal people to make their own home videos. And they said women didn't get off on visual stimulation...

Licking her lips in anticipation, Kit arched her back as Jake's hands slid teasingly up toward her breasts, pausing to trace the soft undersides. Moaning in frustration, Kit covered his hand with hers, watched herself place his palm over her breast and guide his hand to pinch one hard nipple. Her breath hissed and her eyes dropped closed as he pulled at the tip, his mouth tracing a wet path along her neck and shoulder.

"That's it, Kitty Kat, show me how you want me to touch you. Show me all the ways I can make you feel good."

As far as she could tell, Jake had pretty much figured all of them out, but if he wanted instruction, who was she to refuse?

She pulled his other hand up to cover her neglected breast, sighing as he kneaded plump flesh and rolled her nipples between his fingers. "Kiss me," she whispered, tilting her head back against his shoulder. He bent his head and opened his mouth over hers, his tongue licking inside as though he couldn't get enough of her taste.

Releasing her mouth, he closed his lips over one earlobe, and another jolt of lust shot straight to her core. He nibbled and sucked the peachy flesh as his fingers rasped and tweaked her nipples, and Kit wondered, as she watched his hard, male hands claiming her body, if she was about to come with nothing more than his hands on her tits and his lips on her ear.

Wet heat pounded between her thighs. Grabbing his wrist she tugged his hand down to cover her neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair. She shuddered, watching his fingers disappear into her moist heat, feeling strong, thick fingers stroke against the plump, slippery flesh of her pussy.

She watched herself, that wild woman in the mirror, her eyes heavy lidded, mouth slack with lust as she thrust her hips forward, trying to urge his hand harder against her. Two fingers worked between her legs, glistening with her juices, circling and rubbing the tight bud of her clit, sliding down to plunge inside.

"Yes, Kit," he growled against her neck. "Come for me."

His fingers pressed more firmly, and her eyes drifted closed as she felt the first sharp tug of her orgasm.

"Open your eyes," he said. "I want you to see yourself, how beautiful you are when you fall apart."

She did, and what she saw almost made her freeze. Her face, her whole body, was unguarded, vulnerable as she strained against him, letting him see the naked emotion in her eyes as she shuddered and convulsed.

Before the tremors faded Jake scooped her up and carried her the short distance to the bed, coming down over her so his weight was supported on his elbows. "You're so damned sexy," he said, rubbing the hot, hard length of his erection against the sweat-slicked skin of her belly. "Sexy and beautiful and amazing."

She wrapped her legs and arms around him, rubbing her hands up and down his back as she tried to touch every inch of smooth skin and hard muscle.

He pulled away long enough to slide on a condom, and she spread her thighs wide in welcome. Grasping his cock, she pulled him against her, urging him to slide hard and deep inside her pussy.

Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, Jake drove in, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt.

Electric shocks shot through every limb as Kit felt that thrust to the very bottom of her soul.

Cradling her head in his hands, Jake held her pinned with his fierce gaze. "I love you, Kit." He pulled almost all the way out, then slid slowly, deliberately, back in. "I'm not going to live without you. Do you understand me?" He punctuated his question with a rough circling of his hips, making her arch and strain as her greedy inner muscles clamped down around his thick shaft. "You're mine now, Kit. You've always been mine."

Her only reply was a low moan as her palms slid down to grip the hard muscles of his buttocks, pressing him even deeper inside. She wanted to swallow him whole, absorb him into her skin. Make him hers as much as she was his.

They rolled and twisted on the bed, trading who was on top, giggling as they got tangled up in the bedsheets. Eventually Kit found herself facing Jake on his lap, rocking against him in a slow, steady rhythm as his hands cupped her ass. He ground against her, holding himself impossibly deep as he swallowed her rising moans in his mouth.

Curly chest hair rasped her nipples as she rode him, arms looped around his shoulders as she held him tight. Almost without warning her climax gripped her, pulsing through her in long waves as Jake held her close, whispering he loved her, kissing away the tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

He buried his face in her neck, whispering a soft "yes" as he came.

***

Hours later, Kit lay snuggled up against Jake, unable to sleep.

Even though she was physically and mentally exhausted, something ate at her conscience, refusing to allow her to escape into sleep.

Guilt.

For all the amazing sex she and Jake had had over the past month, this was different. Having Jake on top of her, inside her, knowing that he loved her...Now she understood what all those sappy morons meant when they talked about a spiritual connection.

Unbidden, Elizabeth's drunken question echoed in her head. Don't you want to find love, Kit? God help her, she did, and lucky girl that she was, she'd found it with Jake.

Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her robe and went into the living room, silently closing the door behind her. She knew what she had to do.

She had to come clean, both with her readers and with Jake, and pray that he forgave her when she told him the truth about her man-eating alter ego.

Maybe if she put it into writing, it would be easier for everyone to take. She switched on her laptop and began to type.

Well girls, it's time for me to fess up. Time to let the world know that I, C. Teaser, invulnerable, unshakeable user of unsuspecting males, have done the unthinkable.

I've fallen in love.

Crazy, balls out, no holds barred, would move myself to the ass end of the planet and shave my head if he asked it kind of love. I'm even thinking about popping out a couple of gorgeous, green-eyed, black-haired babies. You know how vain I am. The fact that I would even contemplate the risk to my hard-won flat abs should tell you something.

But alas, it's true. I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you over these last few weeks. Remember the little stray hound who came begging so sweetly? He's really a prince in disguise and he swept me off my feet...

Two hours later, eyes gritty and a little nauseated from lack of sleep, Kit sent the column to Tina and stumbled off to bed. She fell into bed, exhausted, smiling as Jake murmured in his sleep and spooned her from behind. As she drifted off she whispered a little prayer to the gods of newfound love, asking them to help Jake forgive her when she confessed the entire mess in the morning.

***

Jake was awakened by the harsh clanging of metal and the rumble of a truck engine that vibrated Kit's entire apartment building. God, he hated garbage day. He squinted at the clock. Five forty-five.

Kit didn't budge. Not surprising, since he'd felt her get up sometime around two. He'd promptly fallen back to sleep but had awakened briefly again when she'd slipped back into bed around four. Her bouts of insomnia had increased lately.

I'll just have to do more to tire her out, he thought with a grin.

The grayish morning light caught the side of her face. He loved watching her sleep, the way her full lips parted slightly as she crushed the side of her face into the pillow. Sometimes, like now, a little furrow appeared between her dark brows, as though she had worries she couldn't escape, even in sleep.

With a sigh of regret he slipped out of bed and left her undisturbed. As much as he wanted to roll her to her back and wake her by sinking between her legs, it was obvious she needed the rest.

He slipped on a pair of boxers, grinning to himself as he let himself out of the bedroom. He couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this...peaceful. Though he hadn't really been conscious of it, the entire time he'd been in San Francisco, a subtle tension had weighed on his shoulders as he struggled to keep a balance between pushing Kit into a relationship without overwhelming her with the force of his emotions.

Last night had changed all that. She loved him, he was sure of it.

She might not have been able to say it, but he felt it in every touch, every kiss, the way she wrapped her arms and legs around him in an almost desperate grip. The words would come eventually. What mattered was that they were going to be together. Bone-deep warmth surged through him as he imagined their life together. The words would come soon enough. All that mattered was Kit was finally his.

Steely morning light cast the living room in shadows, and he could hear the hum of Kit's computer in the otherwise silent apartment. He quickly fixed himself coffee and sat down at her desk to check his email.

As he clicked open a browser window and logged into his remote email client, he noticed Kit's e-mail was still up. He glanced quickly at her in-box, then looked away.

Jake still had the nagging feeling that Kit was keeping something from him, but snooping was not the way to ease his mind. How could he keep her hard-won trust if he went searching through her correspondence?

He was working his way through his messages when a message for Kit flashed on the screen. Reflexively Jake glanced at it.

The message was from someone named Tina, the subject line "Your Latest C. Teaser Column."

C. Teaser...something about that name bugged him. Now he remembered. That column Michael had sent him, where the funny, bitchy woman made fun of the majorly pussy-whipped guy she was dating.

A burning ache settled into the pit of his stomach. Why would someone e-mail Kit about C. Teaser?

Almost involuntarily, he read Tina's message.

Kit, your latest column was genius! One of the funniest ever. I still haven't read the one you wrote this morning (you must be getting tired of your sex slave if you're up at 2 A.M. writing instead of gettin' down!) but if it's anything like the last one, you should be signing a book contract by the end of the week.

Unable to stop himself, Jake searched through Kit's Sent folder and pulled up twenty editions of "Stripping It Down." With every word he read, the gnawing sickness grew until his whole body throbbed with hurt and rage as he realized what Kit really thought of him, of their relationship.

While he'd been falling in love, she'd thought of him as a sex toy and used him as fodder to entertain her readers. While he'd been entertaining visions of their future together, she'd been glorying in leading him around by his dick, waiting for the moment she could let him down hard as payback for the way he'd treated her twelve years ago.

He didn't bother reading the column she'd written at two o'clock this morning. He already knew what it said. No doubt she'd ridiculed his love, laughed at how thoroughly she'd duped him, and figuratively rubbed her hands as she anticipated how, very soon, she would grind his heart into a fine powder.

No wonder she hadn't been able to tell him she loved him.

Hot, humiliated tears burned his eyes, and he thought for a second he might barf all over her keyboard.

He had to get out of her apartment.

Grabbing his pants from where he'd dropped them last night on the living room rug, he hopped his way into them and slammed open the bedroom door. He saw her jolt awake in the corner of his eye but couldn't bring himself to look at her. If he did, he was afraid he'd strangle her, or worse, start crying like a chick and beg her to tell him none of it was true.

Tugging his suitcase out of the closet, he started throwing his clothes inside, yanking open the dresser drawer he'd claimed and shoving in shirts, underwear, and socks. Suits, pants, dress shirts were pulled from hangers and piled on top.

"Jake, what are you doing?" Kit asked. The mere sound of her low, sleep-husky voice nearly brought him to his knees.

How could he have been so wrong? How could he not have seen her for the cold-hearted bitch she really was?

He looked at her, reclining in the bed, un-self-conscious as the sheet slipped down to reveal gorgeous breasts he'd spent a good part of last night worshipping with his lips and tongue. Despite the stabbing pain in his heart, his cock sprang to eager attention. He had his answer.

"I'm leaving," he said, stuffing his running shoes into the corner of the suitcase. "Isn't that what you wanted, Kit?" He paused, staring at her hard. "Or do you prefer to go by C. Teaser, since that seems to be what you truly are?"

She swallowed audibly as all the color drained from her face. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

At least she had the grace to look ashamed, even if she didn't bother to defend herself.

She clutched the sheet to her chest, looking so vulnerable that for a moment he was ready to forget everything and believe it had all been a big, harmless joke.

But phrases he'd read drifted through his mind, cutting words that had the unmistakable ring of Kit's ruthless sense of humor. Lately he's been hanging on my bra straps...Some might say I'm taking advantage, but why should I turn down the chance for a little pleasure along with a side of revenge?

He shook his head, filled with disgust for both of them. "You got me, Kit, you got me real good. You wanted revenge, you have it. Congratulations. If I hurt you even half this much the first time we slept together, I'm surprised you lived through it."

"No, Jake, you don't understand –" She babbled something about the column, a book deal, being pressured into writing more about him even though she didn't mean it.

He continued as though she hadn't spoken. "I thought we were past what happened, Kit, but apparently you're still the same hurt little girl who wants to blame everything on me so you don't have to admit that you had as much hand in what happened as I did. I may have screwed up royally afterward, but you wanted it as much as I did."

"That's not true," she sputtered, "you came on to me!"

"We both know that's a lie." He laughed harshly. "And it's pathetic that you're still trying to convince yourself it's not. Almost as pathetic as the fact that you use what happened as an excuse to push people away, to never let anyone get close enough to have anything real with you."

"I loved you," she burst out, "and you tossed me away like a dirty sock! How was I ever supposed to trust anyone after that?"

"Jesus Christ, Kit, it was twelve years ago." He pulled on a shirt and zipped up his suitcase. "Past time for you to get over it and grow the fuck up."

### Chapter 10

The slamming of her front door echoed through the apartment. Kit wrapped her arms around her knees, still attempting to process what had just happened. She felt like she'd fallen asleep and woken up in some alternate universe, one in which everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Numb, she managed to drag herself out of bed. Pulling on a robe, she wandered out into the living room wondering just what in the hell she was supposed to do now. The smell of coffee permeated the room. Coffee Jake had made before he stormed out in a fury like she'd never seen.

Her laptop was on, her e-mail in-box displayed for anyone to see.

A burst of righteous anger hit her. How dare Jake snoop in personal email!

But even in her head the words sounded hollow. She could blame Jake all she wanted, but she was the one who'd kept things hidden, the one who'd mocked and ridiculed every moment they'd shared. Sick with grief and guilt, Kit let the tears roll unchecked down her face, stunned by the depth of her pain as she thought of the things Jake had read, how betrayed he must have felt.

More betrayed than she'd felt when he'd taken her virginity and left without so much as a good-bye.

His accusations rang in her head. You're still the same hurt little girl who wants to blame everything on me so you don't have to admit that you had as much hand in what happened as I did...you use what happened as an excuse to push people away...

She stumbled over to the coffeepot, poured a cup, and sank limply into a chair at her kitchen table. Staring blankly at the window over her sink, she let herself really remember that night. Jake was right. All these years she'd blamed everything on him. Painted him as an unrepentant seducer of virgins, a user who'd taken what he wanted without any regard whatsoever.

Now she allowed herself to remember that night, remembered what she'd tried so desperately to block out. How love struck she'd been by Jake, her older brother's gorgeous best friend. How much she'd wanted him to notice her, to see her, not as a little girl, but as a woman. A sexual, desirable woman. The eagerness and fear that had coursed through her when he'd appeared on her doorstep. The way she'd employed every amateur seduction technique in her pitiful arsenal, convinced that this was her big chance to prove to Jake that she loved him, that they were meant to be together.

He may have kissed her, but she'd made the first move. Rubbing up against him on the couch. Taking off her shirt so he was sure to see there was no bra under her paper-thin tank top. And she'd encouraged him to go further, shoving his hand up her shirt and down her shorts as she'd pulled at his clothing.

And yes, the actual sex had been painful, embarrassing, and disappointing. But what had really hurt was Jake's expression afterward.

Instead of falling immediately, irrevocably in love after she'd given him the gift of her virginity, he'd looked embarrassed. Ashamed. As though he regretted what had just happened with every fiber of his being.

So instead of facing the situation like the adult she'd thought she'd been, she'd run up to her room and cried her eyes out into the belly of her teddy bear. And used the experience as an excuse to avoid love and intimacy and tears ever since.

It never occurred to her, until now, that Jake had been young too.

In her eyes he'd always seemed so much older and mature. Maybe he was embarrassed and ashamed because he knew he'd botched her first time.

Maybe he worried what his best friend would think about him doing his little sister on the sofa in the TV room.

And really, was it any wonder he'd never called her? What twenty two-year-old man — boy, really — wanted to deal with a girl who'd run sobbing from the room after the first time they'd had sex?

She banged her forehead lightly on the kitchen table. God, she was such an idiot. An immature, emotionally handicapped idiot.

Maybe if she apologized...You never chase after guys, remember?

But this was different. This was Jake. The first man she ever loved. The only man she ever loved. The man who, after all these years, proved to her that real love was possible.

Where's your pride? Are you really going to run after him and beg him to love you?

Pride? Hah! Pride had gotten her into this mess, and Kit considered it a small sacrifice if she could get Jake to love and trust her again. She didn't care what it took, what kind of blow her ego had to suffer. She had to get him back, had to make things right.

The question was, how?

***

A little over two weeks later, Kit still wasn't sure if what she was about to do was right. Or if it would work. One thing she was sure of, though, was that the intensity of her feelings for Jake hadn't changed. Sitting across from him at the rehearsal dinner at the Lighthouse Winery in Napa Valley, her heart felt like one giant, aching bruise.

He looked beautiful, his dark hair recently cut, gorgeous body set off perfectly in tan slacks and French blue button-down shirt. Kit wanted to think that the sharp cast to his features was due to the same inability to sleep and eat that had plagued her, but her usual confidence in her own appeal had faded considerably in the past two weeks.

She'd taken special care with her appearance tonight, carefully applying smoky eyeliner and pale lip gloss that made her mouth look like a ripe peach. Her coral print halter-neck dress was tastefully low cut, barely hinting at cleavage while leaving her arms and back bare. She could have been wearing a flour sack for all Jake seemed to care.

Jake sat across the large, round table, chatting up one of the other bridesmaids, his mouth quirked in a sly half smile at whatever she was saying. He'd managed to ignore her from the moment she walked into the room, as he had for the past two weeks, three days, and six hours.

To be fair Kit supposed he'd only actively ignored her for that first week or so. After several days of unreturned phone calls and unanswered e-mails she'd stopped trying, and instead geared herself up for confronting him here personally at Elizabeth and Michael's wedding.

But all of her personal pep talks and plans to run him down bodily if need be fled as he glanced up, met her gaze, and looked past her as though she were a particularly uninteresting houseplant.

She couldn't ever remember feeling this kind of utter dejection, fearing she was mere seconds away from bursting into tears and making a complete ass of herself.

She straightened her shoulders and did her best to ignore the knot of hopeless grief squeezing the life out of her. She'd come this far, and now was not the time to give up in despair. Once again she reminded herself that she was a strong woman who went after what she wanted, even if it meant beating the man she loved into submission if that's what it took to convince him.

That's what she'd do, she vowed. As soon she could get him alone. Although with everyone from Grandpa Ed to fourth cousin twice removed getting up to give a toast, it could be awhile yet.

Kit's heart gave leap when, midway through dessert, Jake got up

from the table. It's now or never. She whispered a little prayer, drained her wineglass for fortification, and grabbed her purse.

Weaving her way through the crowd, she made a beeline for the men's bathroom. Perhaps it was tacky to corner a man while he stood at the urinal, but good manners were the least of her worries.

She peaked inside the men's but found it empty. Frustrated, she started back toward the table when she saw a shadow moving across the courtyard outside. She slipped out the exit and jogged toward the figure, trying not to snap a heel in the cobblestones. "Jake," she called, and the figure froze.

She stopped ten feet away, unable to see his face in the shadows cast by the outdoor lights. But his body language all but screamed "Get away."

It took everything in her not to obey.

Instead she walked slowly toward him, until she was close enough to see his clenched jaw and cold glare. "Jake, please talk to me, just for a minute."

"I don't have anything left to say to you."

"Fine, listen then. Or better yet," she fumbled in her purse and extracted the sheet of paper she was looking for, "read."

He ignored her outstretched hand. "After what you did, you think I want to read anything you've put on paper?"

"Why won't you let me apologize?" she cried, nearly stamping her foot at his stubbornness.

He started to walk away, and she lunged at him, clinging to his back and refusing to let go. "Don't walk away from me."

He swore and choked as her forearms wrapped around his neck.

"Fine. If I read this will you leave me alone?"

She nodded against his back.

Straightening his shirt, he snatched the paper out of her hand, and for a split second she was afraid he would rip it into tiny bits.

Instead he brought it about two inches from his face. "Sorry." He smirked. "Can't read it. It's too dark."

"Auggh!" The Charlie Brown-like sound of frustration erupted from her throat, and Kit pulled him across the courtyard and through the first unlocked door she could find. Heavy and arched at the top, the door lead to the winery's barrel room, she realized as she flipped on a light.

"Is this okay or do you need your reading glasses?"

He scowled but started to read the "Stripping It Down" column she'd written the morning he'd discovered her secret identity. The one where she'd confessed to the world that she'd fallen madly in love with Jake.

She held her breath as he read the first few lines. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, but his expression was remote, unreadable. No reaction at all to the fact she'd admitted she was in love with him.

He finished the page and handed it back to her. "I'm sure it will be great in your book" was all he said.

The sickly kernel of hope she'd nurtured for the past two weeks shriveled and died. He wasn't going to forgive her.

Taking the paper from his hand, she hung her head, sick with the knowledge that Jake Donovan had broken her heart, and this time she had no one but herself to blame.

***

Jake tried to keep his hand from shaking as he handed back the paper. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them into tight fists as he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her he forgave her, that she could write any damn thing she pleased about him.

I've fallen in love...

He wanted to believe her so badly it was like a physical ache. But what if it was another lie? What if she was manipulating him to get more material?

Did he even care if she was?

Yes, he decided. His pride — at least what was left of it after he'd made a complete ass of himself and let her walk all over him — was the only thing keeping him going these days.

"There is no book," she said, followed by a soft sniffle.

Oh Christ, she was crying? Tough, take-no-crap Kit? The sound of her tears hit him like a hammer to the solar plexus. Then her words registered. "No book?"

She shook her head. "I told them I wouldn't include the columns about you, so they won't move forward with the book."

That made no sense. After he'd left San Francisco, Kit had sent him several e-mails trying to explain why she'd done what she'd done. Her explanation about the book hadn't improved his attitude, instead proving to him that she was willing to use people she cared about to further her career. That he remained anonymous didn't matter. How could he ever trust her when she could so easily exploit their relationship and twist it for public consumption?

Though he hadn't forgiven her, he understood how important this book was to her career. It was her big chance to break free of her boring job at the Tribune and have a career writing what she wanted.

She scrubbed her eyes with her fists and sniffed again. "I know it doesn't matter. It's still out there on the Bustout.com site, but I couldn't let them put it in the book. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't do that to us." She paused and stared up at the ceiling in a futile effort to stop crying, before she continued in a trembling voice. "A magazine bought the rights to the column, so I'll still have that, but the stuff about you will never see the printed page, I promise."

Jake's mind reeled at this. After he'd read through all the columns, he'd been so sure Kit was a manipulative bitch, willing to do anything to further her career. Now it seemed she was willing to sacrifice it all. "Why?"

"Because I love you," she cried, sounding exasperated and none too happy about it.

He couldn't stop the flare of warmth that pulsed through him at hearing her say the words. Not exactly the way he'd hoped to hear them, but he'd take what he could get. "Let me get this straight. You gave up a chance to sell a book to protect me, even though only you and I will ever know those columns were about me?"

She shook her head. "You couldn't remain anonymous for long. The editor wanted to do a big publicity campaign, and people who knew about us would put two and two together. It wasn't worth hurting you more. And it wasn't fair to you, the way I used the column to get revenge for something I should have gotten over a long time ago."

Tears poured down her cheeks, her full pink lips trembling at the corners. She always tried so hard to be tough, unemotional, and now she didn't bother to hide her hurt and shame. Or her love. He knew how hard it was for her to admit she cared, to lay herself on the line. Gone was her bravado and confidence. Kit was once again the naive teenager waiting to have her heart crushed.

God knew he wasn't the man to do it. A slow smile spread across Jake's face as he pulled her into his arms, imagining those green-eyed, black-haired babies she'd mentioned in her column. She stiffened a moment, then melted against him, her body going boneless as she leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing like she'd found the one safe haven in the world.

She tilted her head back and looked at him with big, gray, mascara-smeared eyes. "Forgive me?"

Jake could barely speak past the lump in his own throat. "Yeah." It sounded like a croak. He kissed her, tasting salt and Kit, and it felt so good it almost hurt. His lips traced over her cheeks, forehead, even the tip of her red nose. "I want you to write your book, Kit." She started to shake her head. "It doesn't matter what you said, as long as I know the truth."

"Really?" she asked, her expression uncertain. "You're not going to do that thing where you say it's okay now but hold it over my head for the rest of our lives?"

He shook his head. "But the next time you write anything about me," he growled, backing her up against a wine barrel that was taller than he was, "it better be all about my enormous dick and how well I wield it."

Kit let out a watery giggle and threaded her fingers through his hair. "I have a deadline this week. You better refresh my memory."

***

To her delight, he wasted no time. His hands were everywhere, shoving inside the neckline of her dress to cup her breasts, sliding up her thighs to sink into the soft flesh of her ass, left bare by her thong underwear.

"God, I've missed you," Jake groaned, his hot, open mouth pressed against the sensitive inner curve of her breast. Kit felt a sharp tug at her neck as he undid the hook that held up the bodice. Her breath hissed out as he tongued a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and starting a pulsebeat between her thighs.

He pulled away long enough to shove his pants and underwear down his hips and tugged hard on the crotch of her panties, shredding the silk fabric.

His fingers slipped and slid against the moist lips of her sex, coaxing wetness and preparing her for his rough invasion. Hooking a leg over his hips he shoved his cock inside until he was buried as deep as he could possibly go.

She was pinned, helpless, unable to move as he held her there.

"You feel so good," he said, holding himself so still she could feel the pounding of his heart against her own, the faint tremors that wracked his body. "Tell me you love me again," he whispered.

"I love you." She clamped down on him, squeezing him from the inside, kneading his shaft and rocking against him. "I love you so much."

Licking and sucking at his lips and tongue, she tasted his moans, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes as she realized how close she'd come to never being with him again. Never feeling his hands on her skin, never feeling him sinking so deep he felt like a part of her.

Never hearing him whisper "I love you" in that low, shaky voice.

Finally he began to move, short strokes deep inside her, his thick cock brushing against her G-spot with every tiny thrust. She came almost instantly, vaguely aware of his groans as he spurted hotly inside her.

For a long moment they held each other, leaning against the barrel as they regained their breath.

Eventually he pulled away, and they made their way across the courtyard to the bathrooms for a quick cleanup.

Though it was tempting to retreat to the hotel, they returned to the dining room where assorted friends and relatives were still making endless toasts.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Jake pulled Kit against him and bent to whisper in her ear, "When we get married, promise me we won't do all those stupid speeches."

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "You want to marry me?"

His warm breath tickled her ear as he laughed. "How the hell am I going to keep tabs on you otherwise?"

Stunned, Kit leaned back against him, closing her eyes as the romantic, idealistic Kit she'd spent the last twelve years smothering had a big, triumphant belly laugh. I told you so.

Kit had to concede defeat. True love was possible. Not even a hard-headed, broken-hearted, wannabe cynic like C. Teaser could deny it.
