He threw himself into the squashy chair-which was probably still warm from Mackenzie’s shapely behind-and stared out the window.

“Maybe we can talk about it later,” she offered, and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

Thank God she had Mitch to look forward to, she thought, as she clattered down the stairs. She snatched up her handbag and briefcase and left the station at the next thing to a run. The thought of Dan and his problems peeled away under the sharp edge of anticipation.

Dinner and dessert.

He’d promised.

11

HOW DID YOU dress for a seduction when you had to appear in public and eat dinner first?

Eve considered her closet for the fifth time since arriving home. After her shower, she’d done her makeup with special care and put her hair up in a twist decorated with one of Nana’s mother’s Art Deco diamond clips. The evening was a warm one, telling her that they’d all be wilted and sweaty when the blast furnace of summer actually hit. So with the temperature in the low eighties, velvet and anything satiny was out.

She fingered the red gauze blouse he’d said he liked. Unconsciously, she’d put on a bloodred lipstick that was a good match for it. Hey, why fight her instincts? She pulled the top on and cinched the wide sash ties into a big bow under her breasts, where it had the inevitable effect of drawing the eye to her cleavage.

No wonder Mitch liked it. Plus, this deep red was a good color on her. Now. Skirt. She chose a long black knit slit up both sides, and stepped into black stilettos that made her legs look much longer than they were.

Turning in front of the mirror, she nodded. The combination of the youthful top with her grandmother’s diamonds was unique and fun-an image she worked hard to project on camera. Not to mention comfortable. When you were in the public eye as much as she was, comfort couldn’t be overrated.

She decided against earrings-they’d only slow her down when she and Mitch were tearing each other’s clothes off. Oh happy thought. And where was he, anyway? Seven-thirty had come and gone.

As if she’d conjured him up with the thought, the doorbell rang, and she clicked down the hall to answer it.

Damn, he looked good behind a whole lot of red roses.

Mitch held out the enormous bouquet. “Sorry I’m late. Apparently there’s a shortage of these. I had to go to three places to make up a dozen. Can you believe that?”

Taking them from him, she buried her face in the fragile petals and inhaled their wildly romantic scent. “I can’t believe you went to all that trouble.”

“It’s worth it. Between the bouquet and you, I’m speechless.” He leaned over the flowers and kissed her.

His lips asked, “Do you feel the same way as you did two hours ago?”

And hers replied, “Oh yes. Just you wait.”

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark and he couldn’t seem to take his gaze off her mouth. “Are you sure you want to go out for dinner first?”

“If we don’t go,” she whispered, “we never will. And I hardly have a thing in the fridge.”

He nodded as if he were trying to convince himself. “You’re right. Ready?”

“Just let me do something with these flowers and get my wrap.”

It seemed to Eve that dinner was less about the food than about scent and flavor and heat-and Mitch. She couldn’t have said whether she ate pork or beef, but she knew what his hands looked like as they held fork and steak knife. The wine was a wonderful pinot noir-but she only knew that because he said it was the same color as her blouse.

Her senses-taste, touch, sight-seemed to be intensified, as though the addition of Mitch to her life made her experience it more deeply or more thoroughly. She’d been in love before-with Rafe in college in Florida, and then briefly Austin Taylor, a newscaster who had left CATL-TV just before the show had taken off. She’d thought she knew the signs, but they hadn’t been anything like this.

She didn’t love Mitch, she told herself as he handed her his steaming espresso to counter the sweetness of the exquisite crème brûlée. Love didn’t work like that-didn’t explode into being in the course of a week of business negotiations. But she was certainly a little bit in love with him, and the anticipation of what was to come was like frosting on the cake of a wonderful evening.

He hadn’t even touched her outside of a hand on her waist as he guided her out of the restaurant and into the car. But her whole body was singing with need until, by the time they got to his hotel, she was as soft and moist as if they’d been kissing the whole way instead of driving.

“I hope you appreciate the extent of my self-restraint,” he murmured in the elevator as they floated to the tenth floor. “I’ve managed to go two whole hours without throwing you down on the nearest table and ravishing you.”

“Name the last time you heard anyone say ‘ravish.’” Her tone teased. Her eyes promised that she’d let him do just that, if he wanted.

“You did.” He pulled out his key as they walked, and unlocked a door about halfway down the corridor. “In a show last winter on the physics of the bra.”

“I remember that one. Boy, did the ratings ever spike.”

He ushered her in and closed and locked the door. “As of this moment, we are not talking business anymore.” He slid the wrap off her shoulders and draped it over a chair. “Can I get you a small but criminally expensive drink from the minibar?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting all night to kiss you properly.”

“I’ve been waiting to kiss you improperly.”

And then there was no more waiting. He turned and scooped her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers. Her head fell back as she welcomed his lips, his tongue and the promise of complete possession later. Because that’s what this kiss was-a promise of things to come.

She could hardly wait, and at the same time, she wanted this moment to last forever.

Oh, my, he tasted good. His tongue teased hers, and she met him halfway. He advanced, and she invited, until their kiss deepened into a conflagration of texture and desire. How was it possible that lips could be so soft and wooing, and a tongue could be so hard and suggestive?

Eve took every suggestion he made and turned it into a seduction until they were both gasping for breath.

Still holding her, he backed up until his knees met the mattress. He reached back and stripped the glossy coverlet off it with one hand.

“If we land on that thing, we’ll slide right off it,” he said, pulling her onto the crisp sheets.

“Good plan.” She lay beside him and toed off her sandals. They dropped to the floor with a double clack. He reached down and tossed his shoes toward the closet door.

“Stop right there,” she ordered softly. “I get to do the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good.” Leaning on one elbow, with the other hand she loosened his tie and whipped it off his neck and over one shoulder. “You sound like a real Southerner.”

“When in Rome. Sure I can’t help you with these buttons?”

“Absolutely not.” She made short work of them, and obligingly, he lifted up so she could remove his shirt. “Mmm.” She ran an admiring hand over his chest, feeling the mat of curly hair, springy with life. “You feel good.”

“You look good. You wore my favorite blouse.”

“A Southern lady always thinks of others.” Her hand strayed down to his belly, slowly mapping the contours of his abs. My, oh my.

“Does a Southern gentleman think about what the lady has under her clothes?”

“I’m sure he does, but he would never, ever mention it.” She debated whether she should explore the growing bulge in his trousers from under his waistband and belt, or through the fine wool.

“Okay.” His voice was husky as he leaned over. “I won’t say a word.”

And he lowered his head to kiss the curve of her breast. His tongue swirled on her skin, tracing the plunge of her cleavage and working up the other side. It felt glorious, as though he were worshipping every inch of exposed skin.