Angel leaned on the doorframe, her arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other. “Hmmph.” Her left eyebrow shot up above the charcoal-framed glasses. “Take a picture, it might last longer,” she scoffed with a teasing smirk. “I told you I was a mess.”

Alex himself was casually dressed in jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, which lightly clung to his muscular torso. He was ripped, and all she could think about was how it felt to be in those strong arms. It created vivid recollections in her mind of how the muscle played beneath her fingers and how his breath came in uninhibited pants the night before. His jaw was dusted with just a smattering of stubble, and his hair was the same perfect disarray that she ached to thread her hands through.

He put a hand on his chest. “Um…” he began as her eyes raked him over in a similar fashion. Angel stepped aside and ushered him inside. He grinned and her heart did somersaults. “Take a picture, it might last longer,” he retorted.

She laughed softly as he moved past her. “Hey, what’s good for the goose, is good for the gander.”

He turned to watch her close the door and bolt the lock; the gentle curves of her hips, the slimness of her back, and round fullness of her rear, getting his full attention.

“What?” he asked incredulously when their eyes met.

“Oh, nothing.” Angel shrugged slightly. “Just something my nana used to say when I was growing up. It means…”

“Yeah, I know what it means.” His green eyes burned, and her full lips lifted at the corners in the start of a smile. “That you give as good as you get. I like that a lot.”

Alex longed to grab her and press his mouth to hers but somehow managed to resist the urge. He needed her to trust him. It was the only way she’d open up and he wanted that for the first time in his life. He actually wanted to know her. The thought stunned him, and Alex tugged on the hair at his right temple in agitation.

Angel sauntered back into the kitchen, shooting a look over her shoulder indicating that he should follow. He did, but before she got far, he reached out and slid his hand down her arm until his fingers closed warmly around hers, pulling her gently back toward him. Her free hand came up to rest on the solid wall of his chest and she felt the heat of his skin radiating through the material of his shirt.

Angel tried to mask the shivers running through her; to hide the electricity she felt at his slightest touch. The firm muscles under her hands did little to calm her down. Angel’s mouth dropped open slightly as her lids became hooded and Alex couldn’t help but register the implications. Still holding her hand, he cupped her cheek with the other and brushed the pad of his thumb over the fine bones in her cheek and then gently across her full lower lip.

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch you tonight, but I can’t seem to help it,” Alex murmured softly, his forehead coming to rest gently against hers. Her breath rushed out and he sucked it into his lungs. He wanted every nuance of her, and the knowledge rushed over him in waves, but he held himself firmly in check. He was used to taking what he wanted, but this time, what he wanted was Angel to give.

Angel’s body pulsed and her breathing quickened. She longed to press into him; to feel his hardness against her soft curves and have his mouth and tongue inflicting the sweet torture she knew he was capable of.

“Mmmm…” Involuntarily, her face lifted, offering Alex access to her mouth but his hovered without making connection. Eyes closed, his breath was hot as she waited. “Maybe I want you to touch me,” she whispered against her will. “Just a little.”

Alex’s thumb continued to rub over her hand while his fingers tightened around hers, and he moved to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the corner of her lips. “Okay. Just a little then.” Angel was left bemused when he released her suddenly and moved around her into the kitchen, leaving her flustered and confused.

“So… tell me.”

Her face twisted in consternation and amusement. “Tell you what?”

“Anything.” He shrugged and leaned casually against the counter near the refrigerator at the far end of the kitchen. “Everything.”

She moved about preparing the pasta, and trying to avoid his eyes. “Um, I’m thinking that this is not such a good idea. You’re… well, you’re you and I’m…”

His soft laughter filtered through the room. “Yes. Last night, I think that worked out quite well for both of us. I’m not asking you to lose your identity, Angel. Only share a meal and your thoughts.”

“Come on, Alex. We both know you don’t give a damn about my thoughts. But, if you must know, I’m considering that last night was a mistake.” She was chopping something on a hardwood board with her back to him. Alex didn’t like that he couldn’t see her face as she said the words. “I wanted to talk to you about it in person.”

“I do care about what you’re thinking. I’ve said it. Can you look at me?” His tone took on that of Alex Avery, CFO: man who commanded respect and one that didn’t like what he was hearing.

She threw something into a pot and the sizzling mixed with the rumbling and hissing of the water boiling in the other pot, and then turned to face him.

“Look—” she wiped her hands on a white towel and threw it aside carelessly, “—last night was nice.”

“Nice? Hmmm, not the adjective I’d use, but continue.”

“I guess I’m curious what you want from this?”

“I told you. A meal and your thoughts. I didn’t come here to seduce you or fuck you into submission.” His eyebrow quirked and a sexy grin split his handsome face. “That is what you think happened last night, right?”

She chuckled softly as she resumed cooking, unwilling to admit how much this man got under her skin. “Um, actually I sort of see it as the other way around.”

“Touché.” His grin widened. “So how about we agree that we won’t go there tonight. We’ll eat, talk—”

“Touch?”

“Only a little,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I’ve already made that commitment. When you know me better, you’ll realize I always keep my word.”

She bristled slightly, not sure if it was an implied promise to keep his distance or that he wanted to be closer. She poured the sauce over the pasta and picked up a block of cheese and began grating it over the top. “Hmmph,” she snorted, disappointed at the lack of contact that seemed to be her fate tonight. “That remains to be seen. Do you want it dressed?”

“I thought we agreed we liked things naked,” Alex teased.

“Yes, well, use your imagination,” she shot back without missing a beat, and Alex burst out laughing. She was so different, so refreshing, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face as she used the back of her hand to push a stray lock away from her face.

“Uh uh. No teasing, miss. I promised to be good, so play fair, please.”

This time it was Angel’s turn to laugh as her eyes widened in mock exaggeration. “What’s good for the goose…” she reminded as she plopped a well-laden plate filled with garlic-scented pasta and a light salad down in front of him. “And, stop fishing. You are good. Very good. So let’s just get that off the table right now, okay?”

Alex’s body reacted to her words and to her nearness… to the luscious memories from the night before as she took the seat to his left and the soft scent of her perfume wafted in his nostrils.

The light in her apartment was low and the soft jazz playing from somewhere in the living room echoed off the walls. Alex felt comfortable in an unsettling sort of way. His body reacted, but he felt at ease in Angel’s home. Talking with her was nice, and their easy bantering was completely stimulating in a number of ways. He chose to ignore her comments lest he give in to the need to reach out again, but his eyes stole glances at her as she offered him some bread.

“What?” she demanded when she caught him staring.

“Nothing. I’m not going to let you trick me into anything. Did you get your reports finished? Were the results what you’d hoped?”

Angel shook her head and shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I can’t really say.”

Alex’s brow dropped as he wound some pasta onto his fork. “It just seems dangerous, Angel. What made you choose to do this type of work?”

Angel’s eyes lifted to meet his and what she saw there was earnest concern. He truly wanted to know. “I wanted to help people who couldn’t help themselves, to become a voice for those without one.”

Something in her voice made Alex push. “Sounds like there’s more to it.”

“The pasta will get cold. We should eat,” she murmured, but Alex had already taken a bite.

“It’s delicious. Is gourmet cooking another of your many talents?”

“Hardly. Only the bare essentials. I’m surprised Dad and I survived. This is so easy, though. I make it a lot.” Angel was thankful he moved to another subject, praying silently that he wouldn’t revisit the previous one.

“So?” he persisted. “Why psychology?”

“Um.” Angel hesitated as she played with the food on her plate. She’d never discussed it with anyone other than Becca and not for years. “Well…”

A warm hand closed around hers and the heat traveled up her arm and infused her face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I really hope to know you better,” he said gently, his fingers brushing back and forth over her knuckles. “I want you to trust me. I get that I have to earn it.”

Something about this man caused an upheaval of her insides and all of her carefully laid plans to resist him came tumbling down. Suddenly, she found herself longing to open up, but what would his reaction be? Did she dare tell him?