Going All the Way

“Okay,” he said. “The real reason I called is to find out what you’re up to this weekend.”

“Th-this weekend?” Her pulse stuttered.

“Yeah. Too busy to see an old friend?”

If he’d been “thrown for a loop” when the expected receptionist hadn’t answered, then Serena was now hurtling through the upside-down-and-back-again-lightning-curves equivalent of a new coaster at the nearby Six Flags.

Tell him you’re working, dating, painting your apartment. Something, anything, lie! The problem was, she didn’t have pressing plans, and while she had many faults—just ask her soon-to-be stepmother—dishonesty had never been one of them.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have anything urgent on my schedule.”

“Great! I thought we might get together.”

A dozen vivid images burst to life behind her closed eyes, most of them featuring David in various states of undress. It had been months since they’d been together, but on that last visit, they’d really been together. In at least four different positions, come to think of it…which she tried valiantly not to do.

When he’d been in town during December, she’d used the event-filled season as an excuse not to see him, although they both knew she could have fit in a quick coffee if she’d wanted. The problem was, she’d wanted that entirely too much. She cared enough about David that an affair between them had the potential to really hurt her. Though she’d had her share of boyfriends, none of the eventual goodbyes had caused her any lasting emotional distress. But none of those boyfriends had been David.

When they first met, she’d considered him the attractive, if vaguely arrogant, guy one of her roommates dated. Later he’d gone on to become a fellow student in some “crossover” courses available to both under- and post-grads, to a study buddy it was fun to debate with, to the eventual friend she could e-mail on any topic from a commercial that had amused her to a painfully awkward reconciliation attempt by her father. David was now important enough to her to pose an actual threat to her heart. Especially if she lost him.

But how long could she brush him off without that becoming a threat to their friendship? Unless her brilliant plan was to avoid him forever, she had to get the first reunion out of the way.

She just wished he’d given her more time to prepare. Torn, she spun her padded green office chair in slow circles behind the receptionist’s desk and debated. She and David were both experienced adults who had dated other people in the meantime. How potent could the chemistry between them still be?

His sigh ended the heavy silence. “You don’t want to see me.”

For a nonsensical second, she thought the crackling she heard was actually the tension between them. Then she realized he must be going through an area where reception was choppy.

“Does this have anything to do with your being with Happy now?” he asked. “Or is it because…?”

This one time, she didn’t chide him over the nickname he persisted on using for Patrick, or the derisive note that crept into his voice whenever he mentioned her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you about H—him. We aren’t seeing each other anymore.” Not that she’d seen much of him when they were. A lot of Serena’s relationships seemed to work that way.

David’s pause was difficult to read, and it stretched on long enough for her to wonder if he’d even heard her. Maybe the cell phone reception had given out all together.

But then he asked, “So you’re single?”

Although his words went up at the end in a way that should have indicated a question, his self-assured tone made it sound as if he’d just proclaimed her available for the taking. When her tummy fluttered, caution warned this was exactly why she should avoid him again.

On the other hand, caution wasn’t Serena’s predominant trait. Besides, her pride balked at the thought of doing another ostrich impression like the one she’d performed in December. On the other other hand, at least he couldn’t kiss her if her head was in the sand.

The man needed an answer, and she’d definitely run out of hands.

She took a deep breath. “I have a few things that need to be done this weekend, but if you’re swinging through town, I’d love to get together for lunch—or coffee.” Something midday and public and impervious to rain.

“Terrific.” His next words distorted and faded completely before she heard, “Afraid you…too busy.”

Only if she were smarter.

Footsteps sounded out in the hallway, and even though she’d probably see someone headed upstairs to the pricey orthodontist when she turned around, she seized the excuse to disconnect and regroup. “I’ve got a client coming in, so I need to run. Call me later with your itinerary.”

As she spoke, the door behind her opened. Shocked to discover the footsteps really had signaled a business interruption, she whipped her chair around. And sucked in her breath at the sight of the dark-haired man smiling at her from the entryway.

“Or we could just talk about it now.” David folded his cell phone, leaving her with the drone of the dial tone and a sudden absence of oxygen. His blue eyes, lighter and more intense than she remembered, slid over her still-seated body in unabashed appreciation, and he flashed a wickedly sexy grin. “It’s good to see you, Serena, but damn, I was really hoping you were serious about the bustier and leather pants.”

2

WORDLESS SHOCK immobilized Serena. How the devil had he become even better looking?

In retrospect, her earlier wondering about how potent the chemistry between them could still be was laughable. His voice on the phone had been enough to generate liquid heat inside her. Now she was faced with a mischievous expression as suggestive as the voice. His sensual lips—the bottom one just full enough for her to want to sink her teeth into it—were curved in a smile that crinkled his pale eyes at the corners. His body was tight, and he’d rolled back the cuffs of his midnight-blue shirt to reveal corded forearms. She had an image of those muscles straining as he held himself above her.

Losing the breath she’d finally managed to catch, she decided it wasn’t such a hot idea to stare at his arms. Or his broad shoulders or his very nice hands.

“David!” She yanked off the phone headset and wondered absurdly what her short mop of hair looked like. There was no way she matched his flawlessly put-together appearance, not that something like that would have bothered her when they’d first met.

Back then, his dark-brown hair had been shaggier—not long, by any stretch of the imagination, but more tousled. Each time she’d seen him since he’d earned his MBA, his hair had been trimmed a bit shorter. Now it was cut so close, you couldn’t help but notice the strength of his rectangular face, the hard, smooth jaw and blunt, masculine features. His hair was just long enough for a slight upswept curve above his forehead and the barest hint of neat sideburns stopping at his ears.

“Surprised?” He shut the door behind him, still grinning that wouldn’t-you-like-to-remove-my-clothes-with-your-teeth smile. Or maybe she was projecting.

“You rat.” She stood, relieved she was able to, and pressed a palm to her racing heart. “I’m shocked. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

His lithe easy stride as he came toward her made her feel melodramatically tense in contrast. “It was more fun this way. Besides, the Serena I know likes surprises. You aren’t happy to see me?”

It was difficult to imagine anyone with David’s self-assurance, heritage or bone-melting appeal worrying about the reception he’d get.

“Of course I am.” Forcing her feet to walk around the soothing haven of Natalie’s desk, Serena bobbed her head in what was supposed to be an affirming nod. Somehow she forgot to stop and ended up feeling like one of those ugly little dogs people stuck to their dashboards. “It’s, um, been a while.”

He said nothing, merely hitched an eyebrow in a knowing expression. The gap between visits had only been so long due to her sprouting a beak and feathers last time he’d been in town.

I’m not a chicken. Or an ostrich. Or anything else ornithological. She could hold her own against the waves of testosterone and sexual confidence he exuded. To prove just that, she stepped in his direction, stopping only when she was close enough for a quick, welcoming hug.

She wrapped one arm across his shoulders and leaned toward him. “It’s great to see you.”

His familiar cologne wafted over her, immediately calling to mind other earthy fragrances, like rain in the air and sex on her sheets. The memory was so strong that she froze for a second. David looped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him for a full-frontal hug, and her muscles went liquid with both recognition and anticipation.

Forget it, she instructed her body. There had been extenuating circumstances behind the one time they’d made love. Rather, the one night they’d made love many times. For starters, there’d been that whole wet clothing issue.

Still, while she had no intentions of repeating past mistakes, no matter how orgasmic, the man felt good.

Patrick had been long and lean—all right, gangly—and had towered over her in a way she’d tried to tell herself made her feel feminine. But David, just tall enough to grin down at her, was the perfect height. Their bodies fit together in all the right throbbing places.

Despite the fabric barriers of clothing, heat sprang from each point of contact as if the two of them were pressed skin to skin. Her breasts brushed against him, and her nipples tightened the same way they would have if they’d encountered the soft friction of the crisp hair that dusted his chest. His hips bumped hers, and a giddy, tingly sensation shot from head to toe as warmth pooled between her thighs.

Serena jerked back, which would have worked better if the contact with David hadn’t dissolved her muscles. Without him for support, her strangely shaky body wobbled. She feared landing on her ass and looking like one.

“You okay?” He steadied her with a hand on her upper arm, his fingers firm through her thin violet sweater.

Goose bumps sprang up all over her flesh. As she recalled, the man had the most talented fingers this side of the Mason Dixon. She wasn’t too shy to tell a lover where or how she wanted to be touched, but with David, there’d been no need. In fact, the few times she had volunteered a suggestion—-faster came to mind—he’d continued his slow, sweet pace anyway, eventually demonstrating that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just…light-headed.”