Given her unhurried pace, she obviously planned to have revenge on him. Not that he was complaining-hell, no-but he didn’t know how long he’d be able to withstand the exquisite torture.

When he felt her hands at his waistband, he opened his eyes and watched her flick open the button on his jeans then slowly drag down the zipper.

“Is that a few dozen truffles in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” she asked in a sultry, teasing voice, easing her hands beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“I am extremely-” he sucked in a swift breath as she freed his erection then skimmed his jeans and underwear down his legs in one, smooth motion “-happy.” He pushed the discarded clothes aside with his foot.

“So I see.” Touching her index to the center of his chest, she walked slowly around him, dragging that single fingertip along his skin. When she stood directly behind him, she said, “View is exceptional from the back as well.”

He would have thanked her, but she stole whatever command he still retained over the English language when she stepped closer and slowly rubbed herself against his back. A shudder ran through him at the sensation of her skin brushing against his. Her fingertips drifted over his hips, down his thighs, while she pressed openmouthed kisses across his shoulders.

Her hands continued their gently teasing marauding, roaming up and down his torso and legs, touching him everywhere-except his erection. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice gravelly with need.

She walked around until she faced him again. Then ran a single fingertip down his hard length. “Better?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Better do it again.”

Wrapping her fingers around him, she gently squeezed, dulling his vision. “Good?”

Incredible. He tried to say the word, but all that came out was a guttural groan. Tipping his head back, he endured the sweet torture of her stroking him, cupping, teasing and caressing him until the need to come approached overwhelming. Lifting his head, he looked down at the erotic sight of her hands pleasuring him and knew he couldn’t take anymore.

He grasped her wrists, tumbled her onto the bed, then followed her down, making quick work of grabbing a condom. After rolling on the protection-a delay that nearly unhinged him-he covered her body with his. The slow, slick glide into her tight, wet heat dragged another growl from his throat. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper, meeting his every thrust. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his every muscle strained with the effort to hold off his release until she came. The instant the first ripple of her orgasm gripped him, he let himself go, and with a feral groan, followed her over the edge.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, still deep inside her, his face buried in the soft, fragrant curve of her neck, before he found the strength to lift his head. A minute? An hour? Damned if he knew. He propped his weight on his forearms and gazed down into her eyes. She looked drowsy and satisfied and sexy as hell, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Right in the heart. Cripes, he’d thought their simple kiss had felt complicated? The tangle of unexpected, unsettling feelings roiling through him after what should have been nothing more than a breezy bout of no-strings sex had him positively reeling. Several seconds ticked by as they simply stared at each other. Then she licked her lips and whispered, “Holy cow.”

If he’d been able to string two words together, those were the two he’d have uttered. Since one was about all he could manage, he said, “Yeah.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“That couldn’t possibly have been as incredible as I think, could it?”

More so. “Maybe,” he said as if his entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis, “but I’m not positive, so I vote for a re-do, just to make sure.”

“Count me in. I, uh, didn’t know computer nerds had so much…”

“Stamina?” he provided helpfully. “Willpower?”

One corner of her mouth quirked upward. “I was thinking along the lines of skill and finesse, but hey, if the shoe fits…”

“It’s the glasses,” he said in a perfectly serious voice. “Men who wear glasses are frequently underestimated.”

She ran her fingers down his back and lightly pinched his butt. “Hmmm…I suppose that’s true with some guys, but I never doubted you’d be as clever in the bedroom as you are with a computer. Trust me, you could be the poster boy for skill and finesse.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. She turned and pressed a warm kiss against his palm, and his sucker-punched heart rolled over.

“Guess what I want?” she asked, nudging him with her hip.

He nudged her back. “Same thing I want?”

“I was thinking ‘chocolate.’”

“I wasn’t. But I’m willing to concede.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, unsettled by how much he wanted to turn it into something more than a quick kiss. “For now anyway.”

Five minutes later, Carlie entered the kitchen, wearing one of Daniel’s dress shirts, with Daniel following her. He nuzzled her neck from behind as she opened his refrigerator. “Got milk?” she asked.

“Got anything you want.” Probably he should let her go, but damn, he just couldn’t keep his hands off her. Still nibbling on her neck, he reached around her with one hand and snagged the carton of milk.

“Is it sour and lumpy?” she asked eyeing the container with clear suspicion. “I know how you bachelors operate.”

“No lumps in the milk.”

Just as he was about to hip check the door closed, she pointed to the top shelf and said, “Oh-there’s your heart half from Sinfully Sweet. Have you read the secret message?”

“I have.” With an effort, and just to prove to himself that he could, he released her, then reached for two glasses. “Feel free to take a look.”

While he poured the milk, she unwrapped the blue foil and pulled out the slender strip of paper. “Passion is best described as unpredictable because it’s often found in surprising places. With unexpected people. Leading to unanticipated encounters. All of which can result in unforeseen outcomes.”

“Pretty prophetic, huh?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he looked up and their gazes met. Something he couldn’t define flashed in her eyes, then she nodded. “Very. And very familiar. It matches mine.”

He raised his brows. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I have the other half of your heart.”

“Which means I have the other half of yours.”

“Right. Which means-”

“You’re my perfect match,” they said in unison.

Their eyes met and those four words filled Daniel with a warm sensation he couldn’t name. That warmth was immediately followed by something that felt suspiciously like relief that he’d be her Valentine’s date and not some other guy. “I guess that means you’re stuck sharing the Valentine’s Day dinner prize with me,” he said.

“I guess so,” she agreed, sauntering toward him with a sinful sway of her hips. “I’ll try not to complain too much.”

“I’ll try to not to give you anything to complain about.”

“You can start right now.” She twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “By giving me one of those expert kisses.”

His hands glided under her shirt to touch her warm, soft skin. “Happy to. But I thought you wanted chocolate.”

“You’re better than chocolate.”

And that, Daniel decided as his mouth settled over hers, was one hell of a compliment coming from the Queen of the Chocogasm.

7

THE NEXT TWO weeks passed so quickly, Carlie felt as she’d merely blinked and they were over. Valentine’s Day dawned bright and clear and she spent the morning working her shift at the Delaford spa, then visiting a client on the way home. At two o’clock she stowed her portable massage table in the trunk of her car, then slid into the front seat. Her regular weekly session with Mrs. Fanning had gone very well, especially considering that during the entire hour, Carlie’s mind had stubbornly wandered from the task at hand to the one thing she’d spent the last two weeks thinking about.

Daniel Montgomery.

She closed her eyes and a veritable slide show of Daniel-induced memories flickered through her mind. Daniel, smiling, his dimples flashing at her. Pushing his fantasy-inspiring glasses up his nose. Falling asleep on her sofa with her puppies sprawled across his stomach. Lying in all his naked glory on her bed as she gave him a massage. The two of them feeding each other his chocolate truffles. Playing with P.B. and J. Walking hand in hand through downtown Austell. Playing Frisbee in the park with the dogs then enjoying a picnic lunch. Renting a James Bond flick and snuggling in with a bowl of popcorn. Talking, laughing, sharing childhood memories over pizza and late-night cappuccinos. Daniel gazing at her, his eyes dark with want. Whispering her name. Touching her. Over her. Under her. Buried deep inside her. His hands and mouth…everywhere.

And it was all about to end. Moving day was tomorrow.

Skulking beneath her happiness of the past two weeks was a sensation that had grown each day, until it now sat like a rock in her stomach. She’d tried to put various euphemistic names on the feeling, but the way it squeezed her right now, there was only one word for it: desolation.

Throughout the past two weeks she’d felt as if an egg timer were counting down the minutes of their time together, an incessant internal ticking clock that she’d forced herself to shove to the back of her mind. But there was now no more room to shove because as of tomorrow morning he’d be gone. Another wave of desolation washed over her, this one nearly drowning her.