He felt his vision blur. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he watched her cup her breasts, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks.

Her gaze dropped to the very obvious bulge behind the zipper in his jeans, a look that felt like a caress, and affected him as surely as if she’d touched him. Then he damn near forgot how to breathe when she glided her hands down her torso and slowly shimmied her shorts and panties down her legs. After flicking the clothes aside with her foot, she leisurely straightened, tracing her splayed fingers back up the length of her body.

“Are you ready to give up your secrets?” she asked, dragging a fingertip over her nipple.

“Sure. As soon as I can think straight again.”

Reaching out, she hooked her index finger into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer, until his pelvis bumped hers.

“That’s not going to help me think straight, sweetheart.”

Tunneling her hands into his hair, she slid her leg up his and hooked her thigh over his hip, then dragged his head down for a lush, intimate kiss.

Damn, neither was that.

With a deep groan, his arms went around her, crushing her to him, his tongue deeply exploring her luscious mouth while his hands explored her soft, fragrant skin. Somewhere in what small portion of his brain she hadn’t liquefied, it occurred to him that after they made love it would be time for him to leave. Which meant that this was the last time. The last time.

Need clawed at him, his body screaming as if he hadn’t touched her in months, and he ached to simply yank open his jeans and bury himself in her wet heat. But they needed a condom, and damn it, they were in the bedroom. Bending his knees, he scooped her up and headed swiftly toward the hallway, making a mental vow never to approach her again unless he had a condom within reach. Better make that two. Okay, three.

Two or three isn’t necessary, his inner voice whispered, since this is the last time.

That reminder brought on an ache of an entirely different sort, one he could neither name nor wished to examine right now.

“Your conversation at the grill?” she prompted, brushing her lips against his neck.

“You’re expecting a lot from a guy who can barely form a coherent thought-your fault by the way.”

“Just give me the condensed version.”

“Right. He said something about women wearing cherry lip gloss and how unexpected things happen in the dark. I agreed. That’s all I remember-again, all your fault.”

He entered the bedroom and set her on the mattress with a gentle bounce. Leaning up on her elbows, her eyes glowing with arousal, she watched him undress, an exercise in torture that took him an interminable twenty seconds, a feat he could have accomplished in considerably less time if his damn hands had been steady.

Once undressed, he quickly rolled on a condom, then moved between her splayed thighs. Everything in him demanded a wild, fast ride and a quick, fiery finish. But those words one last time echoed through his mind, compelling him, forcing him to slow down. To savor when he ached to rush. To linger when he wanted nothing more than to bring a quick resolution to the desperate need clawing at him. To memorize every nuance, every touch, every look, every sound she made. One last time.

He entered her slowly, gritting his teeth against the intense pleasure of sinking into her tight, wet heat. Something flickered in her eyes, and she caught on to his shift in tempo. Was she thinking about this being their last time together?

“Give me your hands,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She slipped her hands into his. Entwining their fingers, he settled their joined hands on either side of her head. With his weight braced on his forearms, he stroked her with long, deep thrusts, withdrawing nearly all the way from her body, then slowly burying himself again. Her gaze never left his as she moved to meet each stroke. Mesmerized, he watched her pleasure build then her orgasm overtake her, her back and neck arching, her body clenching his, her long purr of pleasure, her fingers gripping his. Dropping his face in the curve of her neck, he thrust a final time and his climax shuddered through him.

When he could move, he raised his head. And looked down into the most beautiful, chocolaty brown eyes he’d ever seen. And his inner voice reminded him, That was the last time.

14

Sunday, 11:00 a.m.

MALLORY WALKED ADAM to the door, ignoring her clamoring inner voice that told her to lock the damn door, throw away the key and drag him back to her bedroom.

And it required all her willpower not to do just that. Especially after the exquisite way he’d just made love to her. Exquisite, yet poignant because she felt in his every stroke, his every look, a single word.

Goodbye.

He’d said it with his body. Now there were only the words. And then he’d be gone. And they’d both go on with their lives.

She reached for the door, but before she could turn the knob, his hand captured hers.

“It was an amazing night,” he said softly.

She looked at his handsome face and her heart rolled over. “Yes, it was. Between last night and my prom, that’s twice you’ve been my knight in shining armor. Better be careful or I’ll get the impression you like me.”

“I do like you. I always have.”

Firmly telling herself not to place any significance on his words-hell, he’d always liked steak and potatoes, too-she smiled and said, “Same goes. Thanks for rescuing my wounded ego.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

“Not all yours, I assure you.” Now that the moment of goodbye was upon them, she felt the need to get it over with. To make a clean break. Because for reasons she didn’t care to analyze, her heart felt as if an anvil were attached to it. Keeping her voice light, she said, “I hope you have a wonderful time in Europe.”

A slight frown creased between his eyebrows. “Thanks. I’m, uh, really looking forward to it.”

“Three months in Europe? Who wouldn’t? I’m pea green with envy. What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”

“At 8:00 p.m. British Airways.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll call you when I get back.”

She went still, refusing to acknowledge the leap in her pulse. Before she could reply, he raised her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her palm. “I want to see you again, Mallory.”

Every female cell in her body broke into a resounding chorus of “Happy Days Are Here Again,” and she inwardly frowned. “I’d like that, Adam…”

“Uh-oh. I sense a but coming.”

“It’s just that three months is a long time. A lot could change between now and then.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you might meet the love of your life in some piazza in Rome. Such as I might get swept off my feet by some real-estate magnate. I don’t know. Anything could happen. The point is, I can’t and won’t put my life on hold for three months. And even if I did, what would be the point? Once you return from Europe, you’re planning another long trip to some far-off place. You’re going to move to who knows where, and I’m staying right here. We’re basically in the same bad-timing place we were nine years ago-heading off in different directions.”

For several long seconds he said nothing, just looked at her with a troubled expression. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t want to leave here thinking that we’ll never see each other again. Won’t speak to each other again. Won’t still be…friends.”

She hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. “I don’t want that, either. So why don’t we leave it that you’re welcome to call me in three months when you get back. Worst-case scenario is that we’ll have a nice phone chat and catch up on each other’s lives. Best case scenario is that maybe we’ll end up spending another night together before you jet off to your next location or pack up your stuff and move to Hawaii.”

Again he said nothing for several heartbeats and silence swelled between them. Then he finally jerked his head in a nod. “Fair enough. Agreed.”

He then leaned forward and kissed her…a soft, gentle, tender kiss that ended far too soon and tasted irrevocably of goodbye. With a final quick smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

Reaching out, she laid her hand over the doorknob he’d just touched and remained standing there until she heard his car drive away. When the sound faded, she drew in a deep breath, straightened her spine, then turned toward the kitchen. No way was she going to mope. She had things to do, people to talk to, a career and life to think about. And the sooner she got to it, the quicker she’d put Adam from her thoughts.

Yeah, lots of luck with that, her inner voice sneered.

Shoving that pesky voice as far into the recesses of her mind as she could, she grabbed her cell phone and pushed the on button. She’d missed two calls, both this morning, one from her mother, one from Kellie.

Pulling up a bar stool, she sat at the counter and dialed her mom’s number.

“I’m so glad you called, honey,” Mom said. “Are you okay?”

No. “Yes. You’re surviving the blackout all right?”

“Oh, yes. After I spoke to you last night, a dozen of us brought food and drinks and lawn chairs into the apartment-complex parking lot and we had an impromptu blackout party. Lots of fun. What did you end up doing?”

Mallory’s gaze strayed to her breakfast table and an image of her and Adam and Rocky Road ice cream slammed into her. “I, uh, had a friend over.”

“Kellie?”

“No. Do you remember Adam Clayton?”

“Of course. But you haven’t seen him in years. Where did you meet up with him?”

Mallory related the G-rated version of the story, along with the news that she and Greg had broken up-but since a shot of mother sympathy was always welcome, she didn’t skimp on those details.