There’d been nothing good or clean about her then. Not one single thing. And she made Eric want to be dirty, too.

Maybe it was the wrongness of what he was doing that caused vivid excitement to awaken every nerve in his body. He felt…alive. Intrigued. Guilty and righteous all at once.

He rubbed both hands over his face and forced himself to open his email window. He deleted some messages and scrolled through a few more. He reviewed a few invoices and signed off on the larger checks that needed two signatures.

By the time he finished up, it was nine. As he stood and grabbed a jacket, Eric knew he wasn’t going to tell Beth his real name. What the hell did it matter? Jamie was just a name to her, a reputation. Eric was real flesh and blood, and he wasn’t going to lie to her about that. No, that he could offer her with complete and utter honesty.

BETH HADN’T BEEN IN DANGER of falling asleep during the seminar, at least. She’d been wide awake and anticipating this walk across the street.

As usual, a few steps down the path toward living out a fantasy and Beth was a nervous wreck. She paused on the sidewalk to close her eyes and visualize sexual success.

She believed with every fiber of her being that women needed physical fulfillment as much as men did. That women should feel free to seek out their pleasure as earnestly as men did, whatever that pleasure might entail. But she couldn’t seem to discover what hers was. She had trouble relaxing enough during sex to get off. She had no interest in group sex or spanking or other women. She wasn’t turned on by whips or latex or leather. Her only kink was preppy boys, for God’s sake, a desire so vanilla it couldn’t even be called a kink. There had to be something else that would get her engine running, something more interesting, something hot enough to distract her from her own thoughts.

But maybe it wasn’t something, but someone. Because Jamie Donovan made her warm in very special places. And when she walked into the bar and saw him, those special places ratcheted from warm to hot.

Hands in his pockets, he leaned against a red-velvet banquette toward the back of the bar. She couldn’t see his expression in the dim lighting, but somehow she already knew the shape of his wide shoulders and the line of his bent head as he stared at the floor. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it more than once.

She was only five feet away when he looked up. His blue-gray eyes sent sparks down her spine. When the sparks reached low enough, lust exploded like fireworks inside her. The man looked for all the world like a furious, determined, sexy stockbroker forced to work overtime to address a financial crisis.

He looked like a preppy god.

And Beth was the troublesome financial crisis. Oh, wow.

A waitress brushed past her, but Beth was stuck, held to the ground as his frown edged up into a smile.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

“I got a booth…” He stepped back and gestured toward the deep circular booth. The only light provided was a flickering candle in a beaded lamp. As if he were reading her mind.

She slid into one side, and he slid in opposite, and they were cocooned in dark red velvet. Beth could just see the edge of the bar and a dark hallway beyond it.

“I forgot to get your number,” he said, flipping open his phone.

“Oh, right.” She scrambled to get her own phone out of her purse. Was this the point at which she told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship? Should she type BOOTY CALL next to his name so he’d get the idea? She typed in a simple “Jamie Donovan” and tried to think of a diplomatic way to say “please don’t use my number after tonight.”

Her mind worked frantically as they exchanged numbers. Her hand trembled as he handed her the wine list. She had to say something, right? Or should she just let things take their natural course? “Jamie…” she finally blurted out—and a waitress appeared as if by magic.

“What would you like this evening?” the girl asked.

Good question.

He smiled. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Yes, Beth thought. How about the hottest sex I’ve ever had and not a peep out of you afterward?

The server rattled on, but Beth couldn’t concentrate. He had spread his hand out on the table, and she could only stare at it. That hand might be touching her later.

“Beth?” he prompted.

“Oh! What are you going to have?”

“The Shiraz, but I’m no wine expert. You might want to—”

“I’ll have that, too.”

He gave her a helpless smile and shrugged. “Okay, two glasses of the Shiraz.” When the waitress disappeared, he leaned closer. “We should’ve gone somewhere with beer. I’d feel much more confident and manly while ordering.”

Beth couldn’t keep up her worried monologue when he was smiling so close to her. And she’d been right about him. He did smell good. Like starched cotton and soap. As though he should be on the cover of a Polo catalog. Beth’s heart shook with nervous joy. “You seem manly enough.”

“Oh, manly enough?”

“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Notice I qualified it with ‘seem.’”

“Ouch. I didn’t know you were into sadism.”

She laughed, but his smile slipped a little. “Um, you’re not into sadism, are you?”

“Oh, God,” she laughed, tears springing to her eyes in amused relief. He looked so worried. Did he only want her to be a normal girl? What a nice change. “No,” she finally said. “I am not a sadist. Or a masochist, if that’s your next question.”

“Good. I didn’t think you looked—I mean, not that people look a certain way. Or that I thought this was leading to a… That we would… Ah, shit.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion as Beth laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I’m sorry.”

The waitress delivered their wine and he snatched his up with a muttered, “Thank God.”

If he was nervous, then maybe this was okay. Maybe she wasn’t a failure. Maybe this kind of sexual tension was supposed to make you nervous.

She suddenly felt so much better that she scooted a little closer while he wasn’t looking and clicked her glass against his. “Cheers.”

He opened his eyes and his gaze dipped to her mouth as she put the glass to her lips. “Cheers,” he murmured back.

“Mmm. It’s good. Your manhood is safe with me.”

He tasted the wine and his eyebrows rose. “That is good. How could you ever have doubted me?”

“I didn’t really. In fact, I’ve heard amazing things about you.”

“Oh.” A pink flush rose up his face.

“I’m sorry. Was that rude? It’s just that…”

“Beth—”

“Listen,” she interrupted. “I just…” She leaned even closer. Her arm brushed his, and the crisp hair on his forearm sent pleasure sizzling through her. “Jamie,” she whispered, “can I be completely honest with you?”

Chapter four

ERIC WAS FILLED WITH a strange and arousing mixture of lust and guilt. Her arm slid along his, and a very interesting amount of cleavage was exposed when she leaned so close to him. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and every time she said “Jamie” it was rubbing his conscience raw. Now she was offering complete honesty?

He would have stopped her if he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her thoughts.

“You know where I work.”

He nodded and watched her pink lips touch the edge of her glass. She drank, and when she lowered the wine, her lips were even pinker. Ruby-red and touched with dampness. Eric’s mouth went dry.

He felt hypnotized, and when her knee brushed his, he reached automatically to touch it. Beth inhaled sharply, and those ruby lips parted just the tiniest bit.

“Because of my job,” she continued, the words slightly breathless. “You might think…”

Fascinated by her response and drawn in by her soft skin, Eric rubbed his little finger along the inside of her knee. She edged her leg closer to his, parting her knees, giving him space. His mind tumbled over in a primal surge of victory.

“What I’m trying to say,” she whispered, “is that I don’t usually do this.”

“This?” he repeated. Her skin was so hot. He spread his fingers wider, edging them past her knee to her thigh.

“Yes,” she breathed. “This.” And her hand pressed atop his.

This was wrong. Because she didn’t know who he was. Because they were virtually strangers. Because they were in public. But wrong felt better than he’d imagined it could.

Wrong felt like the silky heat of her thigh as she dragged his hand higher. It felt like her skirt easing up as he slid beneath it. And it felt like her muscles trembling as she edged her legs farther apart.

Eric suddenly regretted that he’d spent his life doing the right thing. Instead, he wanted to do…this.

His fingers brushed the satiny fabric between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat, and Eric ceased breathing altogether. Her muscles tightened as she tried to spread her knees farther, but the material of the skirt was too narrow around her thighs.

Eric didn’t mind. He didn’t plan to go further than this. This place, where he could slip his fingers between her thighs and rub just there.

Beth bit back a little whimper, cutting it off before it became a moan. She let go of his wrist and put her hand on his thigh instead. He held still, settling in to the idea that he was really doing this, giving himself just a few seconds to decide that he was.