“I don’t have to know him to know he’s a tool.”

Which made no sense at all. “How can you say someone’s a tool if you don’t know him?”

Instead of answering, he said, “You were practically tongue-kissing him.”

“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t made out with a stranger in a bar since college.”

“Maybe you’re tired of being ‘kind of sexually abstinent.’”

That was an understatement. She was really tired of it, but when she thought of having hot, down-and-dirty, animal sex, she thought of Mick. Ryan was cute, but ultimately he was a stranger in a bar, and she no longer made out or picked up strangers in bars. “Don’t worry about my celibacy.”

His gaze slid to her mouth and lower, down her chin and throat, and got hung up on her breasts. It was past nine, so of course she was cold. “Honey, your body isn’t made for celibacy.” Her hard nipples made two sharp points in the front of her dress. “It’s made for sex.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Lots of rough, sweaty sex that lasts all night long and into the next morning.”

Normally she might have been tempted to Mace a guy for saying that, but when Mick said it, she felt hot little tugs in her stomach and her body urged her to raise her hand to volunteer for sweaty sex duty. “Celibacy is a state of mind.”

“Which explains why you’ve gone insane.”

“Now who’s the tool?” She adjusted her purse to keep it from falling off her shoulder, but her fingers barely touched the bag before Mick pinned her wrists to the door beside her head.

She looked up into his face an inch above hers. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to just stand here and let you shoot my ass with fifty thousand volts.”

She tried not to smile and failed. “I was adjusting my bag on my shoulder.”

“Call me paranoid, but I don’t believe you.”

“You really thought I was going to zap you?” Zapping him had been the furthest thing from her mind.

“You weren’t?”

She chuckled. “No. You’re too pretty to get shot with fifty thousand volts.”

“I’m not pretty.” He let out a breath and it touched the side of her face and neck. “You smell like strawberries.”

“It’s my lotion.”

“You smelled like strawberries that day in Handy Man Hardware.” He buried his nose in her hair and she was so shocked, she felt like she’d been zapped. “You always smell so good. It’s been driving me crazy.” He pressed the length of his body into hers. “When I saw you across the bar, I wanted to do this.” He lowered his face to the side of her throat.

“I thought you wanted to toss me out on my ass.” How had it suddenly gotten so hot? A few minutes ago, she’d been cold. Now she felt hot little tingles rushing across her skin.

“I’ll get to that. Later.” He let go of her hands, but his hips held hers against the door. He’d definitely dressed left. He was long and hard and a dull ache settled between her thighs. Harriet had been right. The Hennessy men were blessed. “First I wanted to smell you right here.” He pushed her sweater away and kissed her bare shoulder. “Where you’re soft and taste good.”

“I like soft skin.” She took a shallow breath and closed her eyes. She wanted him to taste a little lower. “I’m kind of a hedonist that way.”

“How can you be a hedonist and celibate?” he asked against her neck.

“It’s not easy.” And becoming more difficult by the second. If she wasn’t careful, her hedonist side would rule her celibate side, and she would go down in a blaze of orgasmic glory. Which didn’t sound so horrible. Just not with him. She lifted her hand to the side of his face and brushed her thumb across the slight stubble of his cheek. “Especially when you’re around.”

He chuckled. A low masculine sound that came from the center of his chest. He raised his face and his gaze had gone all half-mast with lust and his lashes looked very long. Desire shone bright in his eyes and his hands moved to her waist.

“You’re the last man on the planet I can have.” She raised her mouth to his and he lifted his weight. “And the one I want most.”

“Ain’t life a bitch,” he whispered against her lips.

She nodded and rose to the balls of her feet. Her hand slid to the back of his head and she pressed her mouth to his. His hands on her waist tightened, and for several agonizing heartbeats, he remained perfectly still, his warm palms glued to her waist, his mouth against hers. Then a deep groan sounded low in his throat, and he slid one hand to the small of her back and the other between her shoulders on the outside of her sweater. He brought her against his chest and he kissed her. Soft, sweet. His lips created a delicious suction and he drew her tongue into his mouth, his cheeks sucking lightly.

Maddie’s purse fell to the floor and she moved her free hand up the hard muscles of his arm and shoulder. Heat radiated from him and warmed her breasts where she was pressed against his chest. Maddie had never been a passive lover, and while he sweetly made love to her mouth, her fingers combed through his hair and her free palm roamed the hard contours of his chest and back. If he wasn’t Mick Hennessy, she would have pulled his shirt from his Levi’s and felt his bare skin.

Mick slid his mouth to the side of her throat. “You’re the last woman I should want,” he said between short gasps. “The only woman I can’t stop thinking about.” His hands moved to cup her behind and her hips cradled his erection. “What is it about you that drives me so crazy?” Pressed against her lower belly, he was enormous and so hard the pressure against her pelvis almost hurt.

Almost. She rocked against him as he pushed her sweater down her arms. He tossed the red angora somewhere behind him, but she didn’t need it. She was too hot. Her fingers curled in the front of his shirt and her mouth moved to his neck. He tasted good beneath her tongue. Like warm flesh and aroused man, and she sucked his skin. She grasped handfuls of shirt and swayed against his stiff penis. It had been four years since she’d felt anything so delectable, and she’d missed it. She’d missed the touch of a man’s hands, his hot mouth, and the sounds of arousal deep in his throat.

His fingers found the bow at the back of her neck and he tugged until her halter came untied in his hands. He pulled down the white straps as his lips once again sought hers. This time there was nothing soft or sweet in his kiss. It was all carnal and feeding, with hungry mouths and tongues, and she ate it up. She could have stopped him. She didn’t want him to stop. Not yet. Not when she wanted more. The top of her dress slid to her waist and Mick’s hands cupped her breast through the white strapless bustier. Underwires and metal corseting kept her double-Ds front and center, and his thumbs brushed her nipples through the stiff cotton. She pressed her belly against him, touching the aching places, and he groaned into her mouth. She was so hot, dizzy. Her skin tingled, her breasts felt heavy and her nipples painfully tight. It had been so long since she’d felt such delicious pleasure, and she slid her hand down his chest, over the waistband of his jeans, and pressed her palm against his turgid erection.

“Touch me,” he groaned into her mouth. And she did. While his fingers brushed her nipples through her corset, she slid her hand up and down the length of him, from the bottom of his zipper up the long rock-hard length to the swollen tip. The man had heft, and the wet ache between her thighs urged her to take one of his hands and slide it between her legs, to cup her crotch, and touch her through her panties and…She dropped her hands. “Stop!”

He raised his head. “In a minute.”

In a minute she’d be in the throes of orgasm. “No.” She took a step back and his hands fell to his sides. “You know we can’t do this. We can’t ever have sex.” She kept her gaze on his as she tied her dress behind her neck. “Not together.”

He shook his head and his eyes looked a little wild. “I’ve been rethinking that.”

“There’s nothing to rethink.” He was Mick Hennessy and she was Maddie Jones. “Believe me, you’re the last man on earth I can have sex with, and I’m the last woman you should have sex with.”

“Right now I can’t remember why.”

She should tell him. All of it. Who she really was and who he was to her. “Because…” She licked her lips and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Sexual tension pulled between them, an almost irresistible hot pulsing force. His neck was red from where she’d marked him, and he looked at her through blue eyes all shiny with lust. The last thing she wanted was to see all that fiery need replaced with disgust. Not now. Later. “Because I’m writing a book about your parents and Alice Jones, and making love to you won’t change that. It will only make it worse.”

He took a few steps back and sat on the edge of his desk. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through the sides of his hair. “I forgot about that.” His hands fell to his sides. “For a few minutes, I forgot you’re in town to dig up the past and make my life hell.”

Maddie bent down and picked up her purse. “I’m sorry.” And she was, but being sorry didn’t change anything. She almost wished it did.

“Not sorry enough to stop.”

“No,” she said and reached for the door handle behind her. “Not that sorry.”

“How long, Maddie?”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “How long are you going to be in town messing with my life?”

Good question. “I don’t know. Next spring, maybe.”

He looked down at his feet. “Shit.”

She slid her purse on her shoulder and looked across at him, sitting there with his dark hair sticking out from being finger-combed. She resisted the urge to smooth his hair.

He lifted his gaze. “Obviously, we can’t be within ten feet of each other without tearing at each other’s clothes. And since telling you to stay out of my bars is like waving a red flag in the face of a bull, I’m going to ask you to stay the hell out of my bars.”