She set her nearly empty cup on the small table between the two chairs, her eyes brimming with excitement. "We'll send Brooke and Marc a separate invitation on the pretense of you having a New Year's Eve celebration so they'll be surprised and won't try and talk us out of the party."

He took a drink of his warm cappuccino and didn't reply to her monologue, since she wasn't really asking for his input. He hadn't said yes to using his house, either, but Jessica was obviously way ahead of him on that score and assuming that he'd agree. She had the party all planned out in her mind, and he was getting the distinct impression that he was just along for the ride.

He intended to veer her off course and make the excursion much more interesting.

"I'll take care of the other invitations, the decorations, catering, and a cake, and if you have a stereo system I'll bring along some CDs with romantic music that we can play." She grinned, bowling him over with that guileless smile that lacked her normal sass or reserve. "And I'll find a gift that I know they'll both enjoy, which we can go in on together, if you'd like. You won't have to worry about a thing except writing up a speech to toast the newlyweds."

How convenient, he thought in amusement, knowing exactly what she was attempting to do-take complete charge and keep his interaction with her to a minimum. "And splitting the cost of the party with you, of course."

"I'll keep the expenses as minimal as possible, I promise. And if the expense of the party gets to be too much for you, I'll cover the costs."

Money wasn't a concern for him. Not in the least. "I can afford whatever you have in mind."

She leaned forward in her chair expectantly, her eyes hopeful. "Then the party is a go at your place?"

He saw this idea of hers as his last opportunity to insinuate himself in her life, to work past those barriers she put up with him, to spend quality time with her and tempt and seduce her, and see where their attraction might lead.

Picking up his favoriteMont Blancpen, he rolled it between his fingers. "I'll agree to the party at my place on one condition."

She made a snickering sound. "You can't agree without striking some kind of bargain, can you?"

"I can't help it." He shrugged. "Making deals is part of my business. Why settle for less than what I know I can get?"

"Call it what it is, Matthews-wearing your opponent down."

He feigned a wince at her barb. "I'd like to think of it as drive and ambition to succeed. I haven't gotten as far as I have without it."

Derision colored her gaze. "In your illustrious career as a divorce attorney, or with me?"

Somewhere along the way their conversation had taken a personal slant, and it seemed as though his ambitious nature was a source of contention for her. "With both, actually."

The leg crossed over her opposite knee bounced impatiently. "All right then, counselor, let's hear it. What are your conditions?"

He set his pen in its holder. "That I'm part of the planning, every step of the way."

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him incredulously. "You're joking."

He blinked, and kept his face carefully blank. "I'm completely serious."

"You don't have time to do the planning," she insisted, obviously rattled by his suggestion and what it implied-spending time with him.

"How do you know what I have time for?"

She shook her head in an attempt to divert his interest. "I work out of my apartment with my medical transcripts, and can take care of calls and errands during the day. Why would you want to worry about any of this when I'm more than willing to handle everything?"

Knowing if he revealed his true motives he'd never stand a chance with her, he opted for the obvious. "Well, for starters, I'm paying for half of this party, which gives me the right to contribute my opinion on everything, yes?"

Very reluctantly, she said, "Well… yes."

"And I'm opening my house to thirty-something people, so I'd like to know what to expect, and what you plan to do." He flipped through his daily calendar and summed up his schedule fairly quickly. "I do have some court appearances coming up and cases that I need to close, but for the most part my nights and weekends are wide open."

Frustration all but radiated from her-there was nothing she could refute. She sat back in her chair with a small huff. "Why don't sharks attack lawyers?"

Suppressing a grin, he reached for a piece of letterhead and retrieved his pen again. "Why?"

"Professional courtesy," she muttered.

He chuckled deeply as he drew a diagram to his house for her. "Is that your way of saying I got my way?"

"Yeah, you got your way." She didn't sound happy about the fact

He added his address and home phone number to the piece of paper. Standing, he circled around the desk and handed her the stationery with his bold script on it. "Here are directions to my place. How about we start on the planning tomorrow since it's Saturday? I'm free-how about you?"

Tentatively, she took the heavy cream vellum from his outstretched hand, but didn't bother looking at it. "Unfortunately, I don't have any plans, either."

"Great. Why don't you come over around eleven and take a look at the layout of my house and see what we have to work with, and then we'll go from there?"

"All right." She folded the paper into a precise square. "I have a list of Marc and Brooke's close friends, and I have a program on my computer that can print up nice party invitations, so I'll do that this evening, get them addressed, and drop them in the mail on my way to your place in the morning."

He leaned his backside against the edge of his desk and crossed his legs at his ankles. "Bring them over and we'll address them together."

Her lips pursed. "I can do it myself. It's really a one-person job."

"Regardless, I want to be a part of every aspect of this party, Jessie." He knew if he gave her an inch, she'd run a mile. "Including addressing and stamping the invitations."

Her chin lifted a stubborn notch. "It'sJessica."

"I like Jessie better." The nickname was soft, gentle, with just a hint of rebellion. "It suits you."

She clucked her tongue. "I suppose you could call me worse."

He dropped his voice to a low, husky murmur for effect. "Like honey, or sweetheart?"

Her cheeks flushed a sudden, telltale pink. "Those endearmentsdefinitely don't apply to me and you." Finishing the last of her mocha, she stood and pitched the empty cup into the wastebasket at the side of his desk.

"They could." He twisted around to keep her in his line of vision as a sudden thought dawned on him. "Unless you're dating someone else?"

"No," she admitted freely. "I'm single, available, but not interested… in you."

Then it was up to him to change her mind, because her lying words contradicted the wistful look in her gaze.

She broke eye contact first. "Well, I think we just about covered everything, and now that you've blackmailed me, I think I'll be on my way." She headed toward the door, and he followed right behind.

"Just one more thing," he said with a lazy, self-assured smile.

Her gaze narrowed skeptically as she reached for her coat. "What? Another condition?"

He gently grabbed her wrist before she could execute her move, startling her. Instantaneous awareness cloaked them. She sucked in a swift breath, but didn't struggle or pull back. Their gazes locked as he stroked his thumb over the pulse point at the base of her wrist. In gradual degrees, he eased closer to her, while she stood statue-still.

He watched as her irises turned as dark and sensual as crushed sapphire velvet, and a surge of heat sped through his veins. Their thighs brushed, and he heard her breath hitch in her throat. Unwilling to let this moment pass without indulging in one of his tamer fantasies, he lifted his hand and finally skimmed his fingers along her smooth cheek, savoring the suppleness of her skin.

She looked stunned by his boldness, mesmerized by the tenderness of his touch. Taking advantage of her uncharacteristic docility, he gave in to the impulse he'd been denied earlier and slid his fingers into her hair. Silky warmth engulfed him, like nothing he'd ever experienced. The sensation was so unbelievably erotic he shuddered with pleasure.

"Ryan?" she whispered, her voice holding a slight tremor.

"No more conditions," he said, his tone low and rough. Fisting his hand into the feathery mass, he tipped her face up, so she could look into his eyes and see his intent. "This has nothing to do with the party, and everything to do with you and me… and finally getting an answer to a question I've been wanting to ask for the past year."

And then he lowered his head and settled his mouth over hers.

Chapter 2

Jessica never could have anticipated the impact of Ryan's kiss, or her open response to him. A year's worth of resisting his charm, teasing and advances dissolved the moment his mouth touched hers, unraveling every solid lecture she'd given herself on why she could never fall for a man like him… a man who made a career out of tearing families apart, just as her family had been ripped apart.

But none of that mattered at that moment, not when the man, not the lawyer, was gently coaxing her with the soft glide of his lips across hers, taking time and care to draw her into far more forbidden territory. She had no defense against his brand of lazy seduction, his hypnotic patience. And when he slid his other hand into her hair, gradually eased her back against the wall and slanted her mouth more firmly beneath his, she was totally and completely lost. She gripped his corded forearms for support, bared by his rolled-up shirtsleeves, and held on.