He was silent so long she glanced up at his face, so ruggedly handsome, his gaze fixed on hers. “I’m going away for a couple of weeks. I wanted to say goodbye properly.”

This time she gulped her wine so fast it went down the wrong way and she coughed and spluttered as tears came into her eyes.

He patted her back, but so softly it was more of a caress. “We had some wonderful times together. I don’t want our last memory to be that fight and you hurling the ring in my face.”

She shook her head. No. She didn’t want that, either.

Calmly, he reached for her glass and placed it on the glass and marble coffee table along with his. He leaned forward then and touched his palm to her cheek.

That was all. Just his palm touching her cheek, and she felt the warmth of his flesh, the yearning in her belly. She couldn’t stop the movement. Her own hand reached up to cover his.

His gaze still fixed on hers, he moved closer and kissed her.

Oh, it was so sweet. So well remembered. His lips were warm, wine-flavored, and she moaned at the jolt of pleasure as their lips met. He slanted his mouth to the perfect angle, kissing her softly, then increasing the pressure, just the way she liked. Damn him. He knew her too well.

She slipped both arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him.

“I want to make love to you,” he whispered, pulling away from her mouth to study her face.

She should refuse. It was a dangerous idea. A terrible idea. She started to shake her head.

“One last time,” he said softly.

One last time. He was right. They should make their last memory of each other a sweet one. What was the harm? He was the most wonderful lover she’d ever known, and she’d loved him. “One last time,” she agreed softly.

He rose, hooked his arm under her knees and carried her, like a bride, to the bedroom.

She felt suddenly nervous. Even though they’d made love countless times, it had been months and he felt almost like a stranger. With an hour’s notice she could have been ready. As it was, he’d surprised her in cotton sweats and no makeup, her hair pulled off her face in a ponytail.

He laid her on the bed, leaned his palms on either side of her shoulders and kissed her again, taking his slow, sweet time about it.

She pushed gently against his chest until he raised his head. He appeared wary, probably thinking she was going to change her mind. But nothing could relieve the hot ache between her thighs except his loving. She wanted him so much it hurt. “I was exercising, I’m kind of sweaty. Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

Chapter Four

“I don’t mind at all if you take a shower,” John said.

Charlotte kissed him lightly. “I’ll be fast.”

“No hurry. Take your time.” He made himself comfortable on the bed and crossed his hands behind his head.

She’d be fast, all right. She was throbbing with excitement. She jogged into the adjoining bathroom, where she stripped then stepped under a pounding stream of hot water.

She shrieked when the shower door opened, then shook her head. She might have known he’d follow her.

Even through the steam billowing around her face, she could see he was naked. Gloriously naked and looking even better than she remembered.

She felt his scrutiny and shivered at the hungry expression on his face as he stepped into her shower without an invitation—or a lame joke about washing her back. Without any words at all.

His hands ran down her glistening, wet body then gripped her wrists, pulling them high above her head and resting them lightly against the steamy white tiles.

In that position the water struck her breasts, bringing her nipples to pulsing attention. With his free hand he picked up her lemon/lime body wash and squeezed some on her loofah. Then he ran the rough, soapy surface over her breasts and belly.

She moaned at the combined sensations of warm water, rough sponge, and slippery soap, then moaned again as he returned the loofah to its spot and, cupping a breast in his hand, bent to nuzzle her tinglingly clean nipple. His mouth was teasing, demanding, making her wild with wanting.

After treating both of her breasts this way, he rose to kiss her mouth. He pressed his body tight up against her tingling breasts and abdomen and she felt his erection, hard and heavy against her belly.

She wanted her hands free so she could touch him, but he either didn’t notice her tugging or chose to ignore it.

Since her hands weren’t free to caress him, she rose on tiptoe and spread her legs until his erection sprang free and she could trap it between her thighs. She began moving her pelvis, rubbing his hardness against the magic spot that ached with need.

He groaned, his kisses growing more demanding. The water pounded against his shoulder, her breasts, splashed against her face. The steam smelled of citrus.

At last he let go of her wrists to stroke both his hands all the way down her sides, to her hips.

“I need you now,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He cupped her upper thighs and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, opening herself to him as he thrust deep inside her.

Not the pounding spray of the shower, not even his mouth covering hers, could completely muffle her cries as he drove deep within her body to the places that had been so empty without him. When the sweet ache was more than she could bear, she squeezed him even more tightly to her and let herself go. His own groan of satisfaction soon followed.

“So, that was goodbye, then,” she said as calmly as she could as they dried off using the big white fluffy towels she kept in her bathroom.

“Hell, no,” he said. “That was just a warm-up.” 

Chapter Five

The phone rang while Charlotte was in the middle of an energetic Sun Salutation. She smiled smugly feeling a sense of euphoria that wasn’t entirely Yoga-related. Her body was warm and limber this morning and completely relaxed from her night of loving.

She hoped it was John on the phone. He’d said last night was goodbye, but it wouldn’t be. Not if she had a vote. Sex that fantastic—no, she corrected herself—lovemaking that fantastic wasn’t something you threw away for no good reason.

The odd thing was, now that he’d officially renounced their engagement and said goodbye in his own spectacular fashion, she believed him. Deep down, she must always have known he and Sonya were discussing business strategy in that hotel room.

Maybe John was right and it was the whole wedding thing that had freaked her out. Death do us part and all that. With both her parents divorced—twice each—and her older sister’s divorce almost final, she hadn’t wanted to make public vows. What if she failed? What if she and John were terrible at marriage?

But was her yearning loneliness really any better?

Her brow furrowed as she fought the unease she’d felt since she’d awakened alone this morning. He always used to stay for breakfast and early morning chitchat. It was one of the routines she’d loved.

Had he meant what he said? Was he really only replacing a bad memory with a good one?

She unwound herself to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s John.” Warmth flooded her body at the sound of his voice—echoey, which probably meant he was on his cell.

“Good morning,” she practically cooed.

“Listen, I’m double-parked downstairs. I’m all packed to go but I think I left my wristwatch on the bedside table.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, glancing at the plain stainless timepiece she’d strapped to her own wrist. She knew it was a childish gesture, and the darn thing was so big it kept bumping her wrist bones, but she’d wanted to extend her connection with him, however tenuous.

“Can you run it down?”

That’s right. He was leaving. She’d been so happy-fogged she’d forgotten he was off on his vacation. It was supposed to be their honeymoon, she remembered with a pang. She’d just rubbed out the lines she’d penciled across her calendar and planned to work the next couple of weeks. Before he left, she had to let him know she wanted to see him again when he returned. “Sure. I’ll be right down.”

She grabbed her purse on the way out, then locked her door and took the elevator down to the lobby. She jogged out and saw his car idling in her building’s loading zone.

She couldn’t help the flush of pleasure she felt creeping up her face as she approached the open window on the driver’s side, or the pang she felt knowing he’d be going away. “John, I—”

“The building super’s already yelled at me twice,” he said, sounding harried, staring into the rearview mirror.

“Whatever it is, hop in and tell me.”

“But I—”

“Quick.” He leaned over and opened the passenger door and she scooted round and jumped in. She shut the door and he pulled out and headed into the busy downtown street.

“Did you get my watch?”

So much for sweet nothings about their spectacular night together—a night he hadn’t even bothered to see all the way through. “Yes,” she said tartly, undoing it and passing it over.

He thrust his wrist at her. “Can you put it on?”

She sighed and complied, secretly enjoying the chance to hold his wrist, look at his hand and remember all the places it had been last night. Mmm, she grew warm just remembering. “John, I was wondering…”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“I had a really good time last night.”