SHE WAS REALLY DOING this. Beth couldn’t believe it. She stared at the gold mirror of the elevator doors, watching the people in the lobby move behind her in wavy streaks. Could anybody tell what she was doing? She felt as if she was wearing a neon sign on her head advertising her unseemly intentions.

Her hand still tingled where the phone had vibrated against her palm when he’d called. “Room 421,” he’d said. That was it. No niceties or polite chitchat. Beth had said okay and hung up before hurrying toward the lobby. Unfortunately the elevator didn’t seem to be in as much of a hurry as she was.

When the Up arrow finally lit with a faint chime, she slumped in relief. Then she heard Roland Kendall call her name.

Her mouth made a comical O of alarm in the elevator door before it slid open. For a brief moment, she considered sprinting into the elevator and slamming her hand against the Door Close button, but that could possibly be seen as suspicious. So she pasted a numb smile onto her face and turned.

“Hello, Mr. Kendall. How’s Monica?” She spoke way too fast, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“She’s wonderful. I’m still waiting for her to get married and give me some grandchildren, but she can’t seem to settle down.”

Beth couldn’t imagine Monica as a mom. She’d always struck Beth as self-absorbed and manipulative, though she was also smart as hell. Still, if they hadn’t been suitemates in college, Beth would never have exchanged two words with the woman.

“So, Beth, are you still running that unfortunate store? You’re one of the savviest young ladies I’ve ever met and it’s a shame that you’re involved with that place.”

Oh, Jesus. Every time she’d seen Roland Kendall in the past few years he brought this up. She wished she could simply excuse herself, but what could she say? Sorry, I need to get upstairs to have sex with a man I hardly know. Nothing to do with my unfortunate store, though.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. “Well?” His tone suggested that she was answerable to him in some way.

“Um. Still there, yes. Say, I heard you were talking to Donovan Brothers about beer for High West.”

“Pardon me? How’d you hear that?”

Oops. In her panic to change the subject, she’d latched on to the one thing she didn’t want to talk about. “Oh, you know. Small-town talk. But I hear the Donovan family is great.” Don’t say any more, her brain frantically ordered. Zip it.

Kendall grunted. “I’m not convinced. I like their product, but the brewery’s been around for almost twenty-five years. I need a name that’s a little more fresh, I think.”

Beth looked at the negativity written so clearly on his face. Roland Kendall was a successful businessman, but he worked from the gut and had rigid ideas about his businesses. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in giving Jamie Donovan a chance.

It shouldn’t matter to her. She shouldn’t get involved. But Jamie was smart and good-hearted and she didn’t like to see him so easily dismissed. “I’ve met Jamie Donovan,” she blurted out, even as she tried to stop herself.

“Oh?”

“I was impressed. You should at least give them a chance. It’s a company run by young people, right? How stale could it be?”

“Well—”

“And it’s a beloved local company. That could be some great publicity.”

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms and glared down at the floor.

“Think about it, at least.”

“I will.”

“Well,” she prompted. “It was nice seeing you.”

Thankfully, he’d already lost interest in her, and he simply waved a hand and walked away. Beth counted to ten then punched the button with her finger. The doors slid open and she jumped inside.

She put Roland Kendall from her mind, but that left room for the anxiety she’d been feeling before. Oh, God, her brain repeated as the elevator rose. Oh, God, I’m really doing this. Was he waiting? Was he wondering where she was?

When she stepped out, her heels clicked too loudly against the tile floor outside the elevator before they were muffled by the carpet of the hallway. A sign pointed her in the direction of room 421, and Beth forced herself not to slow as she turned down the hallway and headed closer to Jamie Donovan.

What would happen when she got there? Would they just…start? My God, what if he was already undressed?

Her toe scraped the carpet and Beth stumbled to a halt before forcing herself to walk on. No, he was not going to be standing there in black socks and what the Lord gave him. And if he was, she’d simply turn around and run, no question.

But she had to assume everything would go well. If she didn’t go into this with a positive attitude, the night would turn out badly. She’d think too much. She’d worry that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Then she’d worry that she wasn’t enjoying herself, because she so desperately wanted to be the kind of woman who threw herself into sex and devoured every second of it. She wanted to be good in bed, for her own sake. She wanted to love it as much as she loved the idea of it.

And Jamie had certainly proved that they worked well together. She had every reason to think happy thoughts.

Beth forced herself to take a deep breath as she approached the next door: 421. The numbers were smaller than she’d expected. Innocuous. They didn’t loom or glow. They didn’t pulse with red menace.

“Okay,” she whispered. Before she could lose her nerve, Beth straightened her dress, smoothed down her hair and knocked.

He opened the door too fast and had to catch it before it slammed into the wall. The startled look on his face drew a shocked laugh from Beth. And the humor wasn’t the only thing that prompted relief to well up inside her. He was still fully clothed. And he was holding a tumbler of something bubbly.

“Champagne?” he asked as she stepped past him.

“Thank you!”

“I’m sorry, there weren’t any wineglasses.”

“No, this is perfect.” She took a grateful sip and then sipped again, faced with the horror that she didn’t know what else to say. The door closed hard behind her. They were standing alone together in a room with a dresser, a bed and not much else.

Something swelled beneath her breastbone, pressing into her throat. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. Heat rose up her neck.

“There’s a beautiful view,” he said quietly, moving toward the window.

A view. There was a beautiful view. The tightness in her chest loosened by small degrees as she realized she’d have a few moments to compose herself.

His pants were still on, after all. He hadn’t jumped her. Hell, she was here to have sex with him, and Jamie was behaving with a lot more restraint than that asshole at the reception earlier.

When he reached the window and turned toward her, a frown tugged his eyebrows low. And a realization hit her. Hard.

Beth finally knew what her fantasy was. What buttons she’d always wanted pushed. All those years of wondering, hoping, waiting…and here it was in the stormy eyes of this man.

She didn’t want to be the seductress. She didn’t want to be the experienced one. She wanted to be overwhelmed. Persuaded. Coaxed.

No wonder she’d been such a failure at this. The men who asked her out were looking for a sexual savant. And deep in her heart, Beth wanted to be seduced.

She was an old-school-feminist failure.

He tilted his head, and the hard line of his mouth softened. “Are you all right?”

“Yes!” she answered too brightly as she hurried the last few feet to join him.

He slid the window open, and a cool, crisp breeze swept over them. The sky glowed violet behind the black silhouette of Longs Peak.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “It is beautiful. It’s a gorgeous night.” Beyond the faint traffic, she could hear the occasional coo of mourning doves. The wind touched her again, licking over her skin like cool hands. She closed her eyes.

“Beth,” he murmured. “If you’ve changed your mind…”

She breathed in the scent of fresh leaves and icy water. “No.” Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She set her purse on the chair, and then Jamie took the glass from her hand and set it down on the sill.

“Would it be an exaggeration if I said I’ve spent days thinking of kissing you?”

Adrenaline shot through her. “I don’t know. Would it be?”

“Two whole days. Almost. That counts…” His hand rose to frame her cheek. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered against his thumb as he touched it to her lower lip. “It does.”

The nerves of her lips buzzed as if they were about to go numb, but Beth pushed thoughts of numbness away. She wanted to feel everything, and he was lowering his head, slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. As if she had to be eased into this.

The thought tightened her clit and made her hands shake. His lips touched her as if she were fragile.

Oh, God. Oh, God, yesss.

He brushed his mouth against hers one more time, and then ever so gently caught her lower lip between his teeth.

Perfect.

Beth sighed against him and raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself against the rush of sensation. His lips, his teeth, the slow slide of his hands up her back…

What they’d done in the bar last night hadn’t made him less of a stranger, and alarm rushed through her brain as he eased closer. But this was the kind of alarm that had fed one-night stands for centuries. The kind of alarm that pushed your blood harder into pulse points and erogenous zones. The fear that made it feel as if every cell in your body was pulling toward your skin.