"The master bedroom?"

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at the hopeful note in his voice, the inviting light in his gaze. "You plan on letting your guests mingle in there?"

A warm, private smile brushed across his mouth. "I'm only extending the invitation to you."

"It would be incredibly rude of us to leave our guests downstairs while wemingle upstairs," she said, deliberately misconstruing his meaning.

He followed her through the living room to the kitchen. "I'm sure our guests wouldn't miss us for an hour."

A delicious pressure tightened in her belly at his insinuation. An hour of pure ecstasy compared to the ten minutes of groping and fumbling she'd experienced three years ago.

Oh, wow.

Trying not to allow his sexy overture to entice her, she sat at the small kitchen table and withdrew the invitations, address labels and stamps. It was time to execute her scheme to discourage his interest in the party planning.

He didn't complain when she gave him the unpleasant job of licking the envelopes, and assigned him the monotonous task of affixing the return labels and stamps. Too cheerfully, he did as she instructed, not once shifting anxiously in his chair, or issuing an exasperated sigh.

Her ploy wasn't working. The man was impossible to dissuade. Not to mention that he had her completely distracted and unable to concentrate.

He was sitting so close, his leg occasionally grazed hers, the friction of denim against denim nearly electric. She could feel his eyes on her as he waited patiently for her to address the last two invitations.

And then he reached out and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear that had fallen against her cheek, exposing her neck to his gaze in the process. His fingers lingered for a few fretful heartbeats, then skimmed her jaw as his hand fell away.

A shiver coursed through her, and she calmly handed him the invitation and reached for the last one. "Am I boring you?"

"Not in the least." Without acknowledging that he'd touched her, he dampened a stamp and pressed it onto the corner of the envelope. "And why do I get the impression that you're disappointed about that fact?"

"More like amazed that you're actually enjoying this." Finished with the last invitation, she passed it to him to finalize the job. "Well, that's done." And now she could leave. "I'll drop them in the mail on my way home."

"All right." He gathered the other items for her to put into her tote bag, then stood, left the kitchen, and returned with her jacket, and a worn, masculine leather one.

Considering his sudden eagerness to help her clean up, and the fact that he was shrugging into his own jacket, she wondered if maybe shehad waylaid his interest in party planning. Obviously, he had more exciting plans on his agenda, and was just politely going through the motions.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked.

She grabbed her purse and tote bag and replied without thinking. "Not since breakfast."

"Me, either, and I'm starved. Come on, let's get out of here." He retrieved a set of keys off a hook on the nearby wall, and before she could gain her bearings, he had her hand enclosed in his and was guiding her out a back door to the garage.

He hit a button on the wall, a light went on, and the garage door started rolling upward, revealing a gray sky and snow flurries. A gleaming black Lexus with rich gold trim sat waiting, and Ryan opened the passenger door and ushered her into the butter-soft, tan leather interior.

Marveling at how easily he could manipulate her, how easily she let him, she buckled up while he circled around the car. Once he was behind the wheel, she asked, "Where are we going?"

The engine turned over on a soft purr of sound, and he glanced her way, grinning with wicked satisfaction. "On our first date."

Chapter 3

"This is not a date," Jessica reiterated once they'd arrived at the restaurant he'd selected and they'd placed their orders with the waitress.

Ryan glanced across the table at his date, and grinned. The sparkling laughter in her bright blue eyes belied her insistent tone and convinced him that she really didn't mind that he'd coerced her into having lunch with him. "You keep insisting that this isn't a date, but I think it all depends on how our afternoon ends."

Her features altered into mock suspicion. "What's the deciding factor?"

His gaze dropped to her soft lips, remembering the taste and lush feel of her. He could feast on her mouth for hours and still want more. "I think a kiss at the end of the day would determine whether this outing constitutes a date or not."

She dipped her head as she opened her napkin and spread it on her lap. "Sorry to disappoint you, Matthews, but this is strictly a business lunch."

He clasped his hands on the table and lowered his voice flirtatiously. "Ahh, but we haven't discussed any 'business' yet."

"But we will," she said, and dutifully pulled out her pad of paper and a pen, along with a very diligent attitude. "We need to nail down the specifics for the party so I can make the appropriate calls and get everything set up and scheduled."

"You win," he relented, feigning a defeated sigh. "Business it is. For today."

How was it that she looked both relieved and disappointed? The conflicting emotions he glimpsed intrigued him, and assured him that the potential for something more than their business dealings looked promising. It was just a matter of taking things slow and easy, and he had four weeks to persuade her to his way of thinking.

Admittedly, he'd never taken such time and care with a woman, but then the sophisticated, career-driven women he'd dated in the past had blatantly pursuedhim, and they'd both gone into the affair with the mutual understanding that there were no strings attached. Satiating physical needs had been the mainstay of those relationships, and ultimately their jobs had taken precedence over cultivating anything lasting. When they'd parted ways, they'd done so without regrets or emotional entanglements, and that type of arrangement had always suited him just fine.

Ever since meeting Jessica, he'd found himself growing more selective, to the point that he'd turned down a few offers from beautiful women he knew wouldn't make demands on his time. Attracting willing females had always come easily, but somewhere along the way indulging in a purely sexual relationship had lost its appeal.

Jessica stimulated not only his body, but his mind, and a woman hadn't accomplished such a feat in along time, if ever. She made him think of things he'd put aside for his career, made him wonder if combining a real, lasting relationship with his job was do-able.

Made him wonder if there was some kind of way to strike a balance between achieving success and maintaining traditional values.

Not with her,his conscience mocked, reminding him of her ultimate aversion to his profession. She was tolerating him because of the party she wanted to throw for Brooke and Marc, and no doubt would say good riddance come New Year's Eve, unless he could convince her otherwise.

Yet there was no denying their attraction-or her reluctance to let their desire for one another take its natural course. And that meant he needed to help things along at a gradual, coaxing pace, in a way that would entice Jessica to give him a chance.

"…I thought appetizers would be more practical, instead of a full-course dinner," he heard Jessica say. "Quiches, chicken fingers, stuffed mushrooms, buffalo wings. Those kinds of things that everyone seems to like. I can call a few caterers, get their suggestions, too, and an estimate for the party." She took a drink of her soda, her gaze expectant. "What do you think?"

He pretended to mull over her suggestion. "That sounds fine to me."

"Great." Seemingly pleased with his easy acquiescence, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper with the heading "Caterer." Meanwhile the waitress arrived with their meal, setting a bowl of potato cheese soup in front of Jessica, and a cheeseburger in front of him.

They both started in on their respective lunches. After a few spoonfuls of soup, Jessica continued with her agenda. "I was going to contactWilson's bakery to order a cake, and I was thinking we should go with white cake with a butter cream frosting."

He chewed on a bite of cheeseburger and thought about her bland suggestion. Not wanting to outright discount her opinion, he chose his words carefully. "I'm not a cake connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but what's wrong with a flavored cake, like chocolate, or lemon, or even something more exotic likeBlack Forest?"

She wrinkled her nose at him, silently rejecting his idea. "Not everyone likes those flavors, and vanilla is pretty safe."

"But not very exciting or different," he pointed out, and saw her brows pucker ever so slightly at his argument. "I mean, why do we have to go with just one cake?"

"Because…" Her jaw snapped shut when no other words emerged, then she tried again. "Well, I just thought…" Seemingly unable to find a solid answer to dispute his creative concept, her shoulders slumped. "I guess we could get a variety," she said reluctantly. "What doyou suggest?"

He'd put her on the defensive, and he hadn't meant to do that. And she obviously wasn't happy about his interference inher plans, but it just wouldn't be any fun if he gave in to her every whim without adding a little spice to the mixture. If it was really important, he'd let her have her way-but first, he'd prove to her that plain and practical white cake didn't compare to a more exciting, tasty and pleasurable array of desserts.