His Final Seduction

“Your turn.” Avery elbowed her forward.

Shoulder muscles tensed tight as a wire, Jorgie stepped up to the kiosk and inserted her credit card. Ready or not, this was going down.

“While you’re doing that,” Avery told her, “I’m going up to the ticket counter.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Never you mind. I’ll be right back.” Avery raised her hand over her head and gave Jorgie a backward wave. She sashayed over to the ticket counter, her low-slung jeans and cropped cotton T-shirt revealing a peek at the vivid ink art decorating her lower spine. Jorgie would never ever have the courage to get a tattoo, but as much as Avery’s audacity shocked her, she also admired it.

The ticket kiosk spit out Jorgie’s boarding pass.

It was confirmed. She and Avery were on their way to Venice to learn how to make love like courtesans. Not that Avery needed sex lessons—the woman kept more men dangling on the string than she could count—but her friend could definitely do with a dose of the courtesans’ famed discretion.

Okay, all right, she would do this. She needed this. It was time she stopped playing it safe. Brian was right. She was too conventional. She could do this as long as she had Avery beside her.

Speaking of Avery, where in the heck had she gotten to?

Ticket in one hand and her carry-on clasped in the other, Jorgie spun away from the kiosk. She was so busy searching the crowd for her friend that she didn’t see the man barreling down on her until it was too late. She tried to zigzag, but that only made things worse.

Wham!

They collided in a tangle of arms and legs and rolling leather luggage.

“Miss, are you okay?” His voice was as deep as Phantom Lake, where her parents owned a summer cottage.

His hands were on her shoulders, steadying her. That’s when Jorgie realized she was on the floor and her skirt had flipped up, revealing way too much of her thighs. She yanked her skirt to her knees and darted her gaze to his face. Had he noticed?

The slick, knowing grin said, oh, yeah, he’d noticed.

And she was noticing for the first time just how extremely handsome he was. The stuff of daydreams. Chiseled jaw. Neatly trimmed thick, wavy brown hair. Mischievous cocoa-colored eyes. A slightly crooked nose that told her it had been broken at one time, but that kept him from being too damned gorgeous.

She felt like fleeing. Jorgie gulped, stared. Say something, dummy.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t I know you?”

It surprised her that he’d use such a tired line. He looked as if he would know all the cutting-edge come-ons. She frowned, shook her head, unable to speak against the weight of his warm, distracting hand upon her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I do. I used to hang out with your brother Keith, when my family lived in Burleson. It’s Quint, Quint Mason. Remember me?” He extended a hand.

Quint Mason? Was it possible? Here? Now? She stared, stunned by coincidence and the power of his presence.

His hand stayed outstretched, the smile firmly hung on his lips.

She almost laughed. Not because there was anything funny, but to help relieve her nervous tension. What else could she do? She had to accept his help.

His hand was warm and hard and friendly, just like the man himself. Gently, he tugged her to her feet.

She felt oddly absurd, as if she’d stumbled down an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole. “Umm…umm…” she stammered.

“Janie, is it? No, wait…” He snapped his fingers. “Jorgie. It’s Jorgie, right?”

Happiness flowed over her. Mutely, she nodded. He’d remembered her name.

“You’ve changed,” he said, giving her the once-over with an appreciative light dancing in his eyes. She wasn’t the only one who’d changed. He’d gone from lean and lanky to muscular and broad-shouldered. “No more braces.”

Her body flushed hot at his appraisal. “I got them off when I was a sophomore.”

“No more pigtails.” His hand went to her hair, his fingertips briefly skimming her neck.

Goose bumps set up camp on her forearms, and her breathing grew so shallow she was practically panting. “Left those behind with the private school uniform,” she managed to say.

“You don’t have library books clutched in your arms. Did you lose your love of reading?”

“Nope. Nothing’s changed there, but I’ve upgraded to an e-book reader. Got it stashed in my purse for the plane ride.”

“And you lost the glasses. LASIK or contact lenses?”

“LASIK,” she said.

“Me, too.”

“It’s amazing you recognized me at all.”

“Those eyes are the same.” He nodded as if speaking the wisdom of the ages. “So deep blue that they’re almost purple. Like a Colorado mountain stream. Not many people in the world have eyes like that. The minute I looked into them, I knew it was you.”

He remembered her.

She shouldn’t have found the idea so thrilling, but she did. Her junior high crush remembered her. Her heart did a crazy little rumba.

Oh, just stop it. You’re being silly.

“You know,” he said. “I’d love to stop and talk. Catch up on old times…”

What old times? She hadn’t spoken ten words to him the entire year he’d lived in Burleson and hung out with her brother. She’d been far too shy.

“Find out what Keith is up to these days, but…” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late for work. Maybe we could hook up later.” His comment had been mildly made, but it threw her off to think of meeting up with him again.

“Maybe.” She breathed hopefully even as her brain churned cruel taunts. Get a grip. He’s not interested in you. He’s just being polite. Why would a guy like him be interested in you? He’s traveled the world over. Been in the military. Probably been with dozens—maybe even hundreds—of women. He’s seen and done things you could never dream of. You could never hold the attention of a guy like that. If you couldn’t hold on to someone as bland as Brian, you don’t have a prayer with Quint.

He pulled a card from the pocket of his houndstooth sport jacket—he just had to be a snappy dresser, as well as good-looking—and passed it over to her. “Give me a call when you get back in town.”

Yeah, right. She’d find the courage to do that about the same time hell froze over. Still, she palmed the card, clutched it tight.

“See ya.” He picked up his carry-on, raised a hand in farewell and took off.

Stunned, Jorgie felt as if she’d been clipped in a drive-by. What was that?

“Omigod, who’s the hottie?” Avery asked as she sidled up to Jorgie. Simultaneously, they both cocked their heads to watch Quint walk away, the fabric of his slacks molding to his butt. They sighed in unison.