“If that’s okay.”

She was afraid even to consider how many ways it was okay. “Sure.” Her lips twitched. “But I was kind of looking forward to girl chatting with Mom about the big sale at Victoria’s Secret.”

“I’m more than happy to talk lingerie. Bras and panties? I’m your man.”

If only you were. “Well, as long as we’re making confessions, I have one of my own.” She drew a deep breath, then continued, “You said you wanted to see me again, and you would have. Even if you hadn’t come here.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“I’d planned to go to the airport to see you off this evening. Wish you bon voyage.” Tell you what I stayed up all night thinking about.

Something flickered in his eyes. “I’m flattered.”

“So where do you want to go for lunch?”

“How about your place?”

Vrrrooooom. Her libido, which had snapped to attention the instant she’d seen him, revved like a race car. And suddenly her mind clicked, like puzzle pieces falling into place. Dressed in a suit, business meeting, go to her place…

Was he trying to make her fantasy that they’d talked about come true?

Whew. Who the heck had lit the blast furnace in here?

Crossing her arms over her chest-for balance, as opposed to, say, grabbing him-she raised her brows. “So lunch is a secret code word for nooner?” I hope, I hope, I hope.

“No,” he said, his expression perfectly serious with no hint of the heat that was scorching her. “There’re just some things I’d like to discuss with you and I’d prefer to do so in private.”

Her disappointment that he clearly wasn’t thinking of her fantasy at all was replaced by curiosity. What did he want to discuss? Whatever it was, this worked out fine. She had her own list of things to tell him and she’d much rather do so in the privacy of her house as opposed to a crowded airport terminal. “I’m afraid my fridge is pretty bare.”

“No problem. Lunch is in my car. Two take-out orders of ‘the usual’ from the Stardust Diner.” He smiled. “For old times’ sake.”

“Wow. You sure know how to bribe a girl.”

His smile widened. “That’s what I’m hoping. So…do we have a date?”

“We have a date.”

He stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. Her breathing stuttered. Brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, he said softly, “Any chance I can kiss my date hello?”

Did she nod? She wanted to, but wasn’t sure she could accomplish anything so complicated. She supposed she must have because he lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. Softly, gently, in a way that made her entire body sigh with pleasure. And crave more.

Like a nooner.

He ended the kiss and Mallory had to press her tingling lips together to keep from asking him to kiss her again.

“Ready?” he asked.

He couldn’t tell? Jeez, she was practically panting.

“You need help carrying your flowers?”

She blinked and sanity returned with a thump. Good grief, one kiss and he’d unplugged her circuits. Where the heck was the backup brain generator when you needed one? How could she hope to tell him everything she wanted to when he rendered her all but incoherent with a single kiss?

“Uh, no. I can manage, thanks.” Grabbing her purse and her flowers, she walked briskly toward the door.

When they arrived at her house ten minutes later, Mallory immediately flicked on the AC unit to cool off the interior then headed into the kitchen where she reached for her favorite crystal vase.

“Table or snack bar?” he asked.

Their eyes met and for several seconds they stared at each other. A slide show of sensual images flicked through her mind and it was obvious from his heated expression that his thoughts were running along a similar vein.

“Snack bar,” she said lightly.

He flashed a quick grin. “Chicken.”

Yup. With a capital C. After adding water to the vase, she started arranging the fragrant blooms. “These are really lovely, Adam.”

“Glad you like them. As I said, they remind me of you.”

Her attention was distracted from her task when, from the corner of her eye, she saw him remove his jacket. Her hands faltered and her heart flipped over then thumped hard. Darting furtive glances at him, she watched him unpack the bag containing their lunch with one hand, while he loosened his tie and flicked open his top shirt button with the other.

This time her hands completely stilled and she swallowed. Oh, boy. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look at her, just continued unpacking the bag. If he rolled back his sleeves, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her hands off him.

She went back to arranging her roses, keeping one eye on him. After he finished setting out the lunch items, he met her gaze and slowly rolled back his shirtsleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair.

Double oh, boy.

Giving herself a mental shake that helped not at all, she added the single bloom he’d given her to the arrangement then set the vase in the center of the table.

Sliding onto the bar stool, her gaze skimmed over that loosened tie, his rolled-back sleeves, and she nearly groaned. It was obvious he’d known all along exactly what he was doing. How she was supposed to concentrate on food, on what she wanted to tell him, when he looked so delicious she didn’t know. He’d said he wanted to discuss something with her. Did he really? Or had he just said that to set up this little scenario for a round of goodbye sex? Either way, she wasn’t about to rush things and say, Let’s just get naked.

Maybe she’d suggest it after lunch.

Popping the top on her lunch container, she breathed in the mouthwatering combination of bacon cheeseburger and onion rings, glad to have something else to focus on besides him. Needing a hit of something cool, she first reached for her chocolate shake.

Silence swelled between them, a gap, which, due to the jitters bouncing through her, she felt compelled to fill. Deciding to play the game he’d set up, she asked, “What sort of business meeting do you have?”

“One concerning a career opportunity.”

“Oh? Where? Doing what?”

“Here. On Long Island. Doing exactly what you mentioned. Buying fixer-uppers, doing the fixing up, then reselling them. Actually, this-” he waved his hand between them “-is the business meeting I was hoping to have. To discuss more details with you. To see if you’d be interested in showing me some houses.”

Setting down her cup, she swiveled her stool to face him. “Are you serious?”

“Very. Are you interested in showing me houses?”

“I’d be happy to. When did you decide this?”

He pushed his untouched meal aside then turned his chair to face her. “Yesterday. Last night. All night. I did a lot of thinking.”

“About your career?”

“About what I want. And what I don’t want.”

She had to press her lips together to keep from asking which category she fell into.

“Want to know what I decided?” he asked.

“If you want to tell me,” she said with a studied nonchalance that deserved an Academy Award.

He reached out and took her hands, lightly entwining their fingers. Her heart fluttered at the contact, a sensation that intensified with the serious way he was looking at her. “I decided I want to be happy.”

She blinked. “No offense, but that’s sort of a no-brainer. Everyone wants to be happy.”

“I agree. But I had to figure out what was going to make me happy. You see, I thought I knew. I thought that trekking around Europe, playing the field, scouting out tiki-bar sites was what I wanted. What would make me happy. Turns out I was wrong. Working with my hands, building things, fixing things-that makes me happy. Relaxes me. Investing money and seeing a return-that makes me happy. And it’s also an area in which I have a lot of experience. The thought of buying a run-down house and fixing it up to resell makes me happy. In a stress-free way my doctor would certainly approve of. So I’m going to do it.”

She squeezed his hands. “I think that’s great, Adam. I have no doubt you’ll be a smashing success.”

“Thanks. But that’s not all.” He looked down at their joined hands, then raised his gaze back to hers. “You make me happy, Mallory. Being with you. Talking to you. Laughing with you. In bed, out of bed. Just looking at you makes me happy. It always has. From the first day I met you.”

Her heart performed another series of flutters. Good grief, if this kept up she was going to have to make an appointment with a cardiologist. She supposed she should say something, preferably along the lines of same here, but her throat had swelled with emotion and the words wouldn’t come.

“All that brings me to what I don’t want. To what won’t make me happy. I don’t want to put an ocean between us. I don’t want to go three months without seeing you. The bottom line is that I let life separate us once before and it was a huge mistake. I’m not willing to let you get away again. I want to stay here. With you. There’s something between us. Something really good and special and I want to see where it leads. Now. Not three months from now.”

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. After clearing her throat to locate her voice, she managed to say, “But what about your trip?”

“I’m not going.”

Good lord, she needed to sit down. Oh, wait. She was sitting down. Fine. She needed a stretcher. “You’re giving up your dream-”

“No, I’m not. I’m just reworking it. The minute I stopped kidding myself about my ability to walk-or in this case fly-away from you, everything fell into place.”

He rose and walked to the chair where he’d draped his suit jacket, then slipped an envelope from the inside pocket. After moving to stand in front of her, he held out the envelope.