For some reason, the men in her life just never lived up to her fantasies…until now. Rafe Kendrick was pure fantasy material. A naughty, sweaty, erotic fantasy.

As she wove through downtown Boston, Keely replayed their encounter over and over again. He seemed to like her. In fact, he seemed to find her outrageous behavior charming. He'd been concerned for her safety and her health, and had teased her through one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. And when he'd touched her, her knees had gone all wobbly and her heart had begun to pound. Keely smiled to herself and began to hum a tune. When she realized it was "Someday My Prince Will Come," she forced herself to stop.

After everything she'd been through the last month, she should know better than to allow herself to slip into another silly fantasy. Rafe Kendrick was just a man with all the flaws that came with his sex. All his money and good looks would soon fall away and she'd come to know him as the jerk he probably was. No doubt he'd charmed hundreds of women, promised to call the next day, then never had. And Keely was willing to bet that he had a date with two or three underwear models this very weekend.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and tried to focus on her next move with the Quinns. But images of Rafe Kendrick kept creeping back into her mind until she was certain she'd made the biggest mistake in her life by driving away from him.

Keely pulled the car up to the front entrance to the Copley Plaza and stepped out. She handed her keys to the parking attendant, then gave him a generous tip. As she turned to walk inside, she noticed a dark Mercedes pull up right behind her car. For a moment, she hesitated. There were a lot of black luxury sedans in Boston. She slowly walked toward the car. The door opened and Rafe Kendrick stepped out.

A tiny thrill raced through her. He'd followed her here. He was even more handsome than she remembered. And that memory was only minutes old! "I thought I told you I could get back on my own," Keely said, unable to keep a smile from curling the corners of her mouth.

"I was just making sure you were all right," Rafe countered. He leaned against his car and sent her a rakish smile. "Are you all right?"

Keely felt her blood warm and a flush creep up her cheeks. Here was her chance. "Would you like to join me inside for a drink?"

"A drink?" His eyebrow arched up. "Only if it's a club soda."

She laughed and patted her stomach. "That sounds good to me."

"I'll just park my car and I'll meet you inside."

A parking attendant jogged up to him. "I can park your car for you, sir."

Rafe nodded, handed him the keys and then walked up to Keely. He placed his hand on the small of her back, the gesture oddly possessive. His touch sent another thrill coursing through Keely's body and she steadied herself. Though she was as nervous as she'd been all day long, she didn't feel sick now. She felt…exhilarated, full of anticipation. It felt good to have a man touch her again.

They walked inside, the doorman holding the door open for them both, then headed for the bar. The lobby of the Copley Plaza was as opulent as the rest of the hotel and one of the most elegant in Boston. Keely had decided she could afford one night there, especially since she'd come to Boston for such an important reason. But maybe it was fate that she'd made such a choice, rather than followed her usual practical impulse to find the cheapest room available at the nearest motor lodge.

The Plaza Bar was an inviting spot, furnished with leather chairs and comfy sofas and intimate tables. A jazz pianist played softly from a corner and Rafe steered her toward a sofa, then motioned to a cocktail waitress. He whispered something in the waitress's ear and she nodded, then walked away.

Keely slowly sat down and he joined her, casually draping his arm over the back of the sofa. "This is a nice place," she said, leaning into him ever so slightly, just until her shoulder touched his arm. "Have you been here before?"

Rafe nodded. "For business meetings. Are the rooms nice?"

"They're very elegant."

The waitress reappeared with their drinks. She set two crystal champagne flutes on the coffee table in front of them, then poured sparkling water from a small bottle into the flutes. Then she set a silver dish of strawberries and whipped cream down next to the drinks.

Keely giggled as she picked up one of the glasses and took a sip. "A very fine vintage. French, is it?"

"I thought you'd like it," Rafe said. He leaned back and took a sip from his own glass. "So, I guess you should tell me something about yourself, Keely McClain. What do you do when you're not throwing up on men's shoes?"

"I bake cakes," Keely replied as she munched on a strawberry.

"Cakes? A person can make a living baking cakes?"

"Sure. There's no shortage of weddings and birthday parties and grand openings. And I have quite a reputation for designing unusual cakes. It's kind of a family business. We have a bakery in Brooklyn. And what do you do?"

"Nothing quite so interesting," he said. "I'm a businessman. I buy and sell buildings." His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair, and for a moment, Keely couldn't think. "You know, I'm a big fan of cake," he murmured.

"Then I'll have to bake you one." At first, she regretted the offer. She was acting as if they'd see each other again after tonight. But why hide her desire? She was attracted to Rafe Kendrick and she shouldn't be afraid to let him know. "What's your favorite flavor?" Keely held up her hand. "Wait, let me guess." She studied him for a long moment. "I'm usually very good at this. It's obvious that yellow cake would be too ordinary for you. Most people would automatically think that you're a chocolate man, bold and intense, but everyone loves chocolate and you're a guy who doesn't follow the crowd. You don't look like a coconut man-too trendy. I'd peg you as a banana man."

"A banana man?" Rafe asked with a laugh.

"A man who likes banana cake," Keely explained. "A bit exotic but still comforting. Am I right?"

"Actually, you are," Rafe admitted. "Right now, I have a couple of Sara Lee banana cakes in my freezer at home. And I do find them very…comforting."

Keely sent him a flirtatious glance. "After you taste my banana cake, you'll never eat another frozen cake again."

"I look forward to that," he murmured. He dipped a strawberry into the whipped cream and offered it to her. A long silence spun out between them. His gaze fell to her mouth and Keely held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak. All her silly talk about cake! How could a man like Rafe find her even remotely interesting?

She took a bite of the strawberry as she tried to think of a witty, sophisticated response, anything to break the silence. But it didn't matter. Rafe slowly leaned forward to touch his mouth to hers and all thought of conversation ceased.

The kiss was incredibly sensual, his lips brushing hers, tasting the strawberry and the whipped cream before he drew away. Keely swallowed hard. What was she supposed to do now? She fought an impulse to throw her arms around his neck and drag him down on the leather sofa. That would be way too aggressive, but it would certainly keep her from babbling on about cake. Maybe she could comment on the kiss, but Keely was afraid she'd start blithering.

In the end, she just smiled. And relaxed. And stopped thinking so hard about what she was doing. The conversation resumed and Keely was surprised at how easily Rafe moved between subjects. He asked personal questions yet never pressed for more details when she'd give him vague answers. Keely didn't mention anything about her new family. That conversation would have been too complicated and Keely wasn't even sure how she felt about it all.

As Keely had suspected, Rafe was quite well travelled. He'd spent time in Europe and the Orient and when she told him about her recent trip to London and Ireland, he remembered the exact stone circle she'd seen from a trip he'd made a few years ago. They moved from travel to books to art to music, and before Keely knew it, the pianist had stopped playing and the lights had gradually come up in the bar.

"What time is it?" she said, glancing around.

Rafe looked at his watch. "Past two," he said.

"In the morning?"

He nodded. "Maybe we should call it a night?" Rafe stood and held out his hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

Keely forced a smile. It was now or never. If seduction was in the forecast, she'd have to decide to make it happen. Somewhere between the lobby and her room, she had to find a way to kiss him again, to make sure that the idea came to him before she'd have to make the suggestion herself. And twelve years of Catholic girls' school had made that possibility nearly impossible.

As they walked to the lobby, Rafe didn't rest his hand on her back. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers. Keely expected him to say goodbye at the elevators, but he followed her inside. She pushed the button for the eleventh floor, then fixed her attention on the numbers blinking as they went up.

When the elevator doors reopened, she stepped out, then paused, wondering if this would be the place to say good-night. Rafe looked both ways and Keely took that as a hint that he'd accompany her to her room. "I'm in 1135," she said. "Down this way."

As she walked, her heart slammed in her chest and she could barely breathe. Was he going to kiss her? Should she invite him in? What did he expect? By the time she reached her room, she felt light-headed with confusion. "This is it," Keely said. She leaned back against the door as Rafe slipped his hands around her waist.