A glistening pool of safety glass caught the sunlight from Gigi's parking space. Her back teeth came together and rubbed. Avoiding Noah and the refuge of the patio had already eroded her temper. Now it looked like someone had backed into someone else while everyone inside was trying to have a good time.

The safety glass crunched under her tires as she eased into her spot. Hopefully the aggrieved parties had sorted everything out already. She didn't need that sort of friction just now.

She'd gotten good at ignoring Noah's truck on the way in from the parking lot. She'd even started to pay less attention to the way her patrons stared at him. Hey, if looking at him kept them on the stools longer, then so be it.

Heather was still giving her some side-eye, though. That might take longer to deal with. She was rinsing a cocktail shaker with club soda when Gigi sidled up to her. The day manager looked up at her expectantly.

"Hey, you hear about anybody getting backed into in the parking lot?" Gigi kept her voice low. No need to start an alcohol-fueled panic. "My spot had a lot of glass in it."

Heather put the shaker next to the sink, in easy reach of her bartenders. "I hadn't heard anything," she said, not looking up.

"Well, maybe they took care of it themselves."

"Fingers crossed."

Another concert night meant another crazy happy hour. Gigi looked around at the booths and tables, the odd handful of people standing near the bar with bottles and glasses in their hands. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the commotion, but the excitement in the room lifted her spirits. A waitress wove through the crowd to deliver plates of appetizers and then stopped to answer another table's questions with a bright, youthful grin. One of the day bartenders enlisted a pair of women to help him convince one of the summer staff to stay on permanently.

Gigi grinned. She loved this business. She couldn't imagine what had led her dad to retire. For as long as she could stand, she hoped to stand behind this bar.

Noah swung through the kitchen doors with a load of ice. He slid out of the way as the bartenders grabbed their scoops out of the ice well, and his hip bumped against Gigi's.

Their eyes met when she glanced up at him.

Her skin tingled beneath his dark blue gaze. That was probably a permanent condition. But she didn't feel her insides starting to unravel and open for him. She smiled at the improvement.

"Boss?"

Her heart made a single, giddy bounce before resuming its normal rhythm. Yeah, she was going to be okay.

"Come talk to me when you have a minute?" she asked.

"You got it."

She went to her office to wait for what felt like forever. She tried to track his steps. He would have to dump the rest of the ice, return the buckets, and maybe refill them again. The ice bins got low quickly during happy hour. And she did give him as much time as he needed to come back to her office. It wasn't his fault that she no longer had her list of party tasks to distract her.

She tried to focus on order forms and a list of supplies she'd been compiling from Heather and the staff. In spite of herself, she almost got back up to lean into the hallway when he appeared in the open door.

"You need me?"

"Yeah." His presence seemed to fill the cluttered room. Proximity raised a familiar static prickle between them. Would she ever be completely free of his effect on her? Not now, not likely. "Come in here and shut the door."

He complied, and instantly the room seemed too small for them both, especially with the photo of her father between them.

"Listen. The other night," she began.

He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

You did that. He's all scared of you now. Should have done this sooner.

"What we did," she said. "I maybe shouldn't have done that."

"We did." He smiled gently at her. "We're grown people, Gigi."

"That's not the problem," she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "I'm your boss. I'm in a position of power over you."

His face went red. It would have been cute if her own skin wasn't prickling, too.

"You know what I mean," she said. "It's not appropriate. I don't want you thinking that I think it is. It definitely isn't my way of trying to get you to stay here."

He chuckled. "I didn't think it was. Look. I meant what I said. We're consenting adults. I wanted it as much as you did."

She almost said that was good but thought better of it.

"The other night was the other night," he went on. "It means whatever we decide it means. But I don't think it changes anything between us."

This time she did say, "Good."

"You need anything else, boss?" he asked.

She took a long, deep breath. She was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine now.

"No, we're good. I just didn't want that between us, to be awkward and everything."

He shook his head. "It's not awkward for me." He headed for the door before looking over his shoulder. "Not even a little."

Gigi grinned and gave the door a decisive nod. If only everything could work out so easily.

* * *

"Goddammit!"

Gigi's voice echoed up to the patio's wooden rafters, snapping Noah out of his flashlight-assisted inspection of the long dead lighting system. Instinct drove him to the edge of the balcony, and he looked down into the deserted parking lot.

She stood with her hands on her hips next to her corner parking space, her face turned upwards to the heavens. She let up a ragged cry of frustration and let her head drop back down. Noah jogged down the stairs and arrived at her side in time to see rage bloom on her face. He followed her gaze to the car.

Both the passenger side tires were flat. Something glittered in the gravel and dust around them. He knelt beside the car and sifted through the dust until he found what he was looking for.

He lifted three metal spines from the dirt beside the tires and showed them to his boss.

She turned her fiery glare on him. "What the fuck are those?"

Noah bit his lip to keep from smiling. This woman, who had just last week talked two very drunk bikers out of a fistfight without swearing once, had now dropped an F-bomb on some sheet metal screws. He was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate his amusement at the irony, at least not just now.

"They're screws. The nice, long kind, for the roof." Noah nodded toward the hair salon and its nearly completed addition. "Probably from next door. Contractors must have spilled them."

"Spilled them?" She extended her hand, and he reluctantly gave her one of them. She held it up to the streetlight and inspected it. "How do you spill these?"

Noah shrugged. "It happens."

She knelt beside him and stroked one of the tires. "I'll have to get them patched, I guess."

"I don't think you can patch these, boss." He took the screw from her, suddenly nervous about leaving the sharp implement with her. "No telling how many you picked up."

"Are you saying I have to replace two tires?"

He checked out the smooth surface of the tire beneath her fingertips. She needed to replace them anyway. But this was not the time to broach that subject.

"I'll give you a ride home, boss."

"No, no." She rose carefully, balancing on the flank of the car. "I'll call Triple A."

"At this hour? You'll be waiting forever." Gravel crunched beneath his shoes as he stood up. "I'll drive you. This will wait until morning."

She glared at the rear tires as if her will would re-inflate them. Noah tried hard not to smile at her expression. Enraged or not, she'd have to face the prospect of replacing those tires.

He sensed that her real issue was sharing the truck with him. Despite his little consenting adults speech, things were still awkward between them. That was just too bad for her, though. Awkward or not, she was riding home with him. No way he was leaving her here long after last call to wait for a stranger to tell her she'd have to replace her tires.

If she were his girlfriend, he'd put his hands on her shoulders. Maybe knead that fury out of her. Not to be sexual. Just to acknowledge that sometimes shitty, expensive things happened and that she wasn't alone in being pissed off about it.

But Gigi wasn't his girlfriend, was she? She was a gorgeous woman with a demanding sex drive and some inner conflicts about fucking him. She was also his boss.

So he kept his hands to himself. For now.

"All right, Monroe." She sighed. "All right, dammit."

He brushed gray gravel dust from his hands. "Good. I'm all done inside. We can go whenever you're ready."

* * *

Driving home after work bothered Noah for reasons he used to have trouble naming. The traffic-clotted madness that marked his drive to the bar didn't faze him. At rush hour, he was surrounded by people on their own missions, trying to get home or stop for groceries or meet friends for the evening. Late at night, he had the road to himself.

Not having all those people to pay attention to should have made things easier, but the empty streets pushed his senses to high alert. After a few weeks of making that late-night drive, he realized that part of him was looking for people. That side of him wasn't nearly as hypervigilant as it used to be, but the quiet still bothered him.

Tonight, his boss's directions provided just the right distraction. She led him deeper and deeper into the suburbs, away from the water and the highways lined with strip malls and hotels. Trees gave shelter to narrow drives, and petite houses lay in darkness. People envisioned this sort of place when they talked about settling down with a family.

"Nice neighborhood," he said.

"This is where I grew up. Used to ride a bike up this very street." She pointed out the open window. "Fell out of that oak tree once. Next right."

As he made the turn, he caught her wistful grin. She had more stories to tell about growing up here. This had been the place she'd learned to drive a car. This was where she'd done homework. Daydreamed about a boy who would one day take her to prom. Her parents had left her with more than a business. She had a history in this neighborhood. She had a whole life with roots growing down deep in this place.

She had a home. Something stable to protect from transient barbacks passing through town.

Something inside him twisted painfully, but he willed the ache away. Whose fault was it that he didn't have what she needed in her life? His whole history fit in the back of the truck with room to spare. He chose that for himself, connecting only with what lay inside his arm's reach. Able to move and start over whenever he liked.

Her home and history still called to him, and the need to answer pulsed in his veins. When the time came, it would take all his strength to go.

She pointed at a farmhouse on the right. "There it is."

He pulled into her driveway and coasted beneath the boughs of a tree to her carport. The ancient transmission clunked when he put the truck in park, and they turned to face each other as the engine gurgled.

They watched each other in silence for a few seconds. Years ago, a teenage Gigi would have looked across the front seat at some hormone-plagued boy, wondering if he would kiss her.

Noah chuckled. Who was he kidding? If this woman wanted to be kissed, no way she was going to sit there with her fingers crossed, waiting for it.

"Something funny, Monroe?"

"Just thinking, boss."

She rooted deep inside her purse before pulling out her keys with a jingling flourish. "I'll call Heather in the morning, I guess." She glanced down at his lap briefly before her gaze skittered to the gearshift.

Damn if he was going to make this easy for her.

"I can pick you up if you want. You know, if you want to make a run on the way in."

Her tempting lips pursed as she shook her head. "No, no. Heather has to be up early anyway, and she has the supply list."

He tried without success to keep from smiling. Was she even going to thank him? "If you say so, boss."

A breeze tickled the branches overhead, making them sigh. She'd probably sit here all night rather than ask him for anything. But she wanted to. She wouldn't still be sitting here, her knee up on the bench seat, if she didn't want something.

"You have a second to come in?" Her voice lacked a little of the steel she used at work, and for an instant, he wondered if he was wrong about the teenage Gigi, waiting on the passenger seat.

He turned off the engine and the truck shuddered to rest. "Yeah, I have a second."

* * *

Gigi shut the door behind them and leaned against it. Noah waited for her in the living room. The hodgepodge of furniture, most of which her parents had left behind on their way to retirement, looked small and insubstantial around him. He towered over the coffee table like a giant.

Her giant.

She shook off the thought and jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the kitchen. "Want anything?"

He smiled and sat down on her couch. "I'm good," he said.

She opened her refrigerator and stood in the chilly air, acutely aware of the heat of his gaze on her back. She'd invited him in to ask about their conversation from the other night, to be certain that there were no awkward aftereffects from the Fourth of July. She had no reason not to take him at his word, of course; Noah was a straight shooter through and through. But at work, he could be such a closed book, even when they were alone after last call. He'd never let on that there was more between them than work and one hot night on the patio. And the cab of the truck—that was where kids made out.

If they were going to have an adult conversation, they'd have it in the living room like adults.

She finally closed the fridge empty handed, cutting off the spill of light into the darkened room. When she turned back to the living room, she found Noah holding the hefty glass ashtray that weighed down the coffee table. He turned the unwieldy thing over and over, his thick fingers moving in the grooves cut for cigarettes.

Gigi grinned and joined him on the couch. "It's an ashtray," she explained.

He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I know. My uncle had one like this. I haven't seen one in years."

"Home décor secrets of the Seventies," she said, watching as he set the ashtray back on the coffee table. "This is your uncle who was in Vietnam?"

He nodded. "My Uncle Tim."

"You really loved him, didn't you?" The question was out into the air between them before she could stop it, more personal than anything that had yet happened when they were alone.

In the soft light of streetlamps, his gaze found hers. "Yeah. He was my favorite uncle." He leaned back on the couch. "My dad's oldest brother. He was old enough to be drafted to go to Vietnam like a bunch of other guys. Dad worshiped my Uncle Tim when they were kids." He smiled at her. "He said when people asked him what he wanted to be, he used to say he wanted to be Uncle Tim."

Gigi laughed, and Noah shifted on the couch. His smile slowly faded into something harder.

"Anyway, he went to Vietnam and came back home. When he got off the plane, this gorgeous woman came up to him. My uncle thinks, hey, this is great, this woman wants to flirt with the man in uniform. He opens his mouth to say something to this girl. And she spits in his face and then turns around and walks off."

Gigi felt her mouth drop open, weightless. He glanced up at her, sorrow darkening his features.

"Dad said Uncle Tim wasn't the same after that. It was like someone had taken whatever he used to be and shattered it, and then he wasn't able to find all the pieces." He sighed. "When we went to visit him and my Aunt Joanie, they were always happy enough to see us. I could kind of see what my dad saw in him. But sometimes I'd look over at him when we were watching TV, and he'd be staring at the floor, almost like he was wondering what happened to him."

"Just like Frank," she whispered.

"Just like Frank." He laced his fingers and set them on his knee. "You know, we're doing all this stuff for veterans now. Free drinks and all that. College girls who want to climb you like a tree. Which is great. All that is great. But no one wants to remember that, a little while ago, people would wait for soldiers to get off the plane so they could spit in their faces."

The silence stretched and grew thick between them. In the dark, she could all but hear him breathing.

"You learn a lot in the Army, boss. You learn that everyone's there, willing to put it all on the line, for a different reason." He looked up to meet her gaze. "And I never met one person who went all the way to Afghanistan for free beer. But little things like that matter anyway."

"You didn't have to tell me all that," she said.

He shrugged. "Your ashtray just reminded me." A long sigh slid out of him. "I guess it's been trapped in there for a while."

She had to reach to pat his knee. Resisting this need to make contact with him proved harder than simply giving in.

His hand covered hers, setting her heart on a jig. More than the excitement she'd been trying to fight for so long, she ached with a new emotion. She felt safe. Like he'd opened this part of himself to her now and wanted to welcome her inside.

She stared at their joined hands, long enough for her skin to tingle. She knew he was watching her with the same intensity he reserved for potential trouble on the job, for anything that might not go as planned.

Yeah, this qualifies.

He shifted again on the couch, and she forced her eyes to meet his. His fingers twined with hers. A whirlwind pushed at her insides, fear and need and this forbidden excitement chasing each other around her heart.

He reached for her slowly, cupping her face in his large palm. His rough thumb stroked her cheek.

"What do you need right now, boss?"

Gigi found her breath. "You said this was whatever we said it was."

He nodded. "Right."

"So what are we saying it is?" she whispered.

He closed most of the distance between them, stopping just inches away from her. "What do you need it to be?"

She tried to yank her hand out of his but he tightened his grip. Frustrated beyond endurance, she turned her gaze up to the ceiling. "Jesus, Monroe." She looked back at him and wanted to pull that smirk off his face. "Can you really not answer a simple question like that?"

He slid his fingertips up to her chin, gently tugged her toward him. Their knees touched when they kissed. His mouth coaxed hers, teasing her, making the spark she was trying to suppress into a hungry flame.

He pulled away from her and pressed his forehead to hers. "I want you like I want air to breathe." The rough caress of his whisper made her catch her breath. "But Gigi, you make the rules." He kissed the corner of her mouth, his lips lingering there. "You tell me. You tell me what you want."

She wanted him. She wanted to see all of him and hear every sound he could make, and even if it never happened again, with him or anyone else, she wanted him tonight.

"The bedroom is at the end of the hall." She pulled back and away from his embrace. "Go down there and strip."

Without a word, he rose and headed down the hallway, peeling off his shirt as he went. She stood up on suddenly uncertain legs and slowly followed him.

She sat on the bed to watch him finish undressing. He was stepping out of his pants and tugging his socks off when she turned on a lamp. This time she meant to get a good look at those long, muscular legs, that delicious-looking washboard stomach. Summer sun had bleached the hair on his powerful arms and calves. He tugged his boxers down over the firm ass she'd admired since he first started working for her, and his erection bobbed free.

Oh, hell, yeah.

His long, thick shaft curved toward his stomach. Her skin tingled at the sight of it.

She got off the bed and pointed. "Lie down on your back."

He complied and watched with his arms behind his head as she shed her clothes, quickly pulling off her work attire. When she was naked, she picked up his pants and held them up by one belt loop.

"I presume you brought a condom this time?" She forced a confidence she did not feel into her voice, trying to squash the fear of losing him or of somehow losing everything to desire for him.

He grinned from the bed. "Right there in my pocket."

Gigi pulled the condom from the front pocket of his pants before dropping them on the floor with her clothes. She put the rubber on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed. She gave in to her need to touch him, to explore his body with her hands. The contact with him, her hands on his chest, his shoulders, his waist, excited her. The warmth of his flesh made her whole, gave her a rush of purely feminine strength, and she straddled him eagerly.

When he reached for her, she laced her fingers with his and lifted his hands away. "Not yet," she said. She guided his hands to the headboard's metal frame. "Hold on to this. Don't let go."

Curiosity mingled with desire on his face as he obeyed her. She released him and settled onto him, savoring the feel of his skin against hers. "I wanted a lot more from you last time," she said, "but you didn't have a condom."

He smiled. "That location didn't do us any favors, either."

She rested her fingers on his mouth. "Location's not as big a problem, Monroe. If we'd had a condom, I'd have spread you out on the table and done whatever I wanted with you."

The sensual threat made his eyes go dark. Oh, yes. This would be better with the lights on.

"But I don't want to argue with you." She leaned over, steadying herself on the headboard. "I want to feel that mouth on me."

She teased his mouth with her tongue until he opened for her and then plunged inside. She closed her legs around him and kissed him hard, claiming him boldly, testing his resolve. She half expected him to release the headboard to toy with her hair. He stayed still, though, just as she'd told him to, and his obedience emboldened her.

She arched her back until her full breasts rubbed against his mouth. He opened for her, easily capturing her nipple between his lips. His tongue swept over her sensitive flesh and engulfed it with wet heat. She tugged at his short, wiry hair, willing him to suck harder, and he met her demands with gusto. His body fit so well between her thighs and she squeezed him hard.

His cock twitched between them and she reached for him, finding him hot and so very hard for her. She caressed him lightly and watched the sensations playing out on his face. He was so expressive, so open as he pursued his pleasure. His responses fueled her, made her feel powerful on top of him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, pumping him slowly as he sucked on her. His eyes closed and she lifted her chest away from him so she could watch him lose himself in sensation.

Before long, she bent to whisper in his ear. "Tonight, you don't come until I tell you. Understand?"

He nodded and shifted his body beneath her, making himself ready for her.

"Good. Keep your eyes closed and your hands right where they are." She teased the corner of his mouth with the tip of her tongue and moved on to his sculpted biceps, his shoulders. She took in the salty taste of him, the scent of sweat that clung to his skin. With her lips and tongue, she surveyed him and watched his responses as well as she could. He twisted beneath her when she scraped his nipple with her nails. His stomach fluttered when she traced his abs with her tongue. She glanced up to find him biting his lip.

Ticklish. She smiled against his skin. She'd almost forgotten. She should have told him not to laugh. Instead, she teased the dusting of hair on his chest, stirring it with her breath until he writhed beneath her. The sound of his hands tightening on her headboard stirred her in turn, and she skimmed his sides with her nails and fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut, the exertion reddening his skin.

She ran her hands up the length of him, from his narrow waist to the hollow of his collarbone, as if he were a fine instrument beneath a skilled musician's fingertips. He gasped at the unexpected contact, and he alternated between the instinct to twist away from her and the desire to please her by staying still. Her fingers fluttering just over the surface of his skin, she tormented him until sweat stood out on his forehead.

He'd let her go on like that forever. He'd bite his lip until it bled, hold his breath for an eternity, crush that metal bar in his clenched fists. She sat squarely on top of him again, watching him catch his breath as she stroked and flicked his sensitive skin again. She shook her head in amazement at the depth of his self-control and then kissed his parted lips, pulling away from him just as he started to respond.

That was enough. For now.

With her lips and tongue, she traced the long line down the center of his chest and over his flat stomach, this time ignoring the flutter of his formidable muscles as she tickled him. Finally, she reached his cock. A single drop glistened at its tip and she smoothed it into his skin with one fingertip. She slid her fingertips up the long ridge of him and then around the curvature of his cock head. He was holding his breath. Restraint made the muscles of his arms stand out as he clung to her headboard.

She remembered the show he'd put on for her before and cupped his balls in her hand. His chest rose and fell on a long, shuddering breath. She caressed his sack with her palm, teasing him with just enough pressure, just enough of her touch. His body went taut, twisting and arching for more of her.

Very lightly, she scraped the delicate skin and was rewarded with his sharply indrawn breath. She rubbed a circle around that sweet spot with her fingers and took hold of his shaft with the other hand.

He could hold out against his climax this way, she knew. But then she took him into her mouth, warming his flesh with a long breath before closing her lips around the head of his cock.

He groaned and bucked beneath her. Perfect. She swirled her tongue around him while working his cock and balls with both hands. She could drive him to madness like this, with the very center of him in her hands and her mouth.

His grip tightened again on the headboard, making it creak, and his body shuddered with the suppressed urge to push his cock deeply into her mouth. Oh, he was good. He was very good. He seemed to grow longer somehow, thickening in her hands. He'd be able to hold out as long as she wanted.

Longer than she could, anyway.

She released his cock and went for the condom. "Keep your eyes closed," she whispered. "And remember, you come when I tell you and not before."

Sweat glistened on his forehead when he nodded.

She slid the condom onto his cock and mounted him. She eased his cock head up the length of her slit, teasing the slippery folds with his hardened flesh before slowly taking him. He filled her so completely, and she savored every fraction of every inch as she lowered herself onto him.

How long had it been since she'd had anything like this? The thought of him had long since blotted out the thought of her other lovers. Noah's body was built for her every need, and his strong will provided a temptation she'd missed for way too long.

Using her inner thighs, she rode him hard. Watching the play of sensation and emotion on his face excited her even more, and she rocked her hips forward and back on his cock. She wanted more. She wanted everything he had.

She unleashed the days and weeks of pent up need and fucked him hard, her hands splayed over her breasts. She pinched her own tight nipples, squeezed the firm flesh to send lightning flashes of pleasure down to where her body met his. He groaned beneath her, his knuckles white on the headboard as he pumped his hips up into her. The first ripples of her climax built deep inside her, and she angled her hips toward him. She pressed her fingertips to her clit, where his thick shaft stroked her hard, and she let her head fall back as her body clenched over and around him.

The orgasm surged through her, wrenching a cry from her. Wave after wave of it rocked her. She shuddered and gasped as it subsided, but when she looked down at Noah, she found his eyes still closed.

"Your turn," she said. "Let go and come."

His knuckles popped when he released the headboard. Need took hold of him when he grabbed her hips, and he drove into her fiercely. The force of his movements as he claimed her threatened to bring her over the edge again, but she opened her body to him, making way for him to fuck her hard.

Orgasm seized him after just a few vicious thrusts, and released him just as quickly. She lowered her body to his as it subsided and saw something she hadn't noticed before.

She kissed his cheek tenderly, finding the skin damp with sweat. "It's okay, Monroe. You can open your eyes now."

* * *

Overcome by his lust, Noah hadn't noticed the decadence of the bed itself. His body sank into the lush mattress. Fragrant linens embraced him. He'd never understood women's need to cover the bed in pillows until he found himself here, cradled by them. After the orgasm had ripped through him and Gigi had lifted herself off him, a paralysis had engulfed him. He noticed that she'd left the room, but after that, his eyes had closed.

The sound of a striking match restored him to consciousness. He found Gigi lighting a red candle on her nightstand. She dropped the match into the candle's metal cover and set a coffee cup next to it. Steam rose from the cup, and Noah could make out the top of a bottle emerging from it.

His deep breath ended in a yawn. "That's not coffee, is it?"

Wrapped in a dark, silky-looking robe, she sat on the side of the bed and shook her head. "Massage oil."

He wasn't sure how he would find enough strength to sit up and give this woman a massage, but the promise of finally running his hands all over that breathtaking body made him want to try. He tightened his stomach, willing himself to sit up.

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "You're getting the massage."

"Ah." He relaxed into the luxuriant bed again. "Okay."

Her mouth curled into a soft smile. "If you feel up to that."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the bedroom's warm, berry-scented air. "Definitely."

"Good." Clinking sounds and the quiet drip of water told him she was removing the bottle from the cup of hot water. "It's ready. Turn over."

Noah rolled onto his stomach, his head on one of the larger pillows. Behind him, he heard her palms rubbing together, and a new scent emanated from her, something wintry and herbal.

Her warm hands swept over his shoulders before digging in to him. The heels of her hands pushed into him, driving heat into his weary body.

He hadn't realized how worn out he'd been. All that lifting and bending and repetitive motion had accumulated in his back and arms, and then strangling the headboard until she came made him hurt all over. Under her ministrations, his body melted. A sigh escaped him.

"You all right down there?"

"Mmm. Never better." He almost whimpered with pleasure when she worked the fragrant oil into the back of his neck. "For a second, I thought you were going to make me give you the massage."

Her laughter rippled over him. "You've done plenty." Her hands paused long enough for her lips to brush his hairline. "This is a time for me to take care of you."

Tiny chills raced down his spine before she rubbed the oil into his back. Sleep threatened to pull him under again.

"Confusing," he said.

"Not really. I spend a lot of the day taking care of people. That's all my job is. Staying one step ahead of the customers, like you said. Making sure my staff gets what they need to keep bringing in good business. I love that part."

"You're good at that. Customers love you. All your regulars."

"Yeah. It's like a family. They love that place. You'll see at Heather's party."

"But you know how to lead people, too."

"It's easy when your people are good. They need very little direction when they're trained." She started kneading his back, below the shoulder blades, where he'd begun to ache at night. "You already know that."

He took a long breath of candle-scented air. "Yeah. When your team is good, you can do anything. They start to come together, and after a while, you don't even have to tell them anything. They just move."

"Right." She laced her fingers in his and lifted his arm away from his side. "That's not what all this is about, though."

He opened one eye. "It isn't?"

"Not for me." She stroked his arm. "For me, taking the lead in bed just gives me a rush. I like having a man prove he can give me exactly what I want. No second guessing. No questions. No games. I say what I want, and he does it."

Her backrub had left him feeling languid. He had to rock his hips to one side and use the momentum to roll to the other, so that he was on his side. She settled onto the bed beside him and held his hand again. In the candlelight, clad in her silken robe, her thick curls on her shoulders, she looked like something from a dream, someone who would beckon him to rest at the end of long hot days.

"Hard to believe you don't have men lining up to give you what you want," he said.

She looked away, thoughtfully. The mellow light lent warmth to her brown eyes.

"Guys want to give me what they think I want. Or they want what they want, and they hope I want it, too." She met his gaze again. "You know what I mean?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Before I told you to take your shirt off on the patio, where did you want that to go?"

That was easy. "I'd have taken my shirt off." His memory of his need to have her hands on his skin had grown almost as strong as the need itself.

"And then?"

"I don't know. Maybe your shirt. I'd have kissed you."

"Because you wanted it, or because you thought I wanted it?"

He retreated into the memory of pulling his shirt off. He had wanted her to see his body and know the same desire that had tormented him. He wanted her to reveal herself to him, to finally uncover the strong, rounded body he wanted so much. He wanted her soft skin against his. He wanted to tease and coax her mouth open.

He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.

"If I tell you what I want," she went on, "then you don't have to guess what I want. You don't have to hope I'll go along for the ride. Right?" She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Most guys are really uncomfortable with that, though. It's like they feel something's being taken away from them."

She rested their linked hands in her lap and looked down at them.

"How did you know I'd be into it?" he asked quietly.

She turned to him and laughed. "I didn't." The confession made her laugh even harder. "I had no idea."

"Really?" He was shocked. "All this time, I thought you knew."

She shook her head, a timid smile on her face. "No idea."

"I guess I thought …"

"What?" She released his hand and moved so that she was leaning against the headboard. When he still hadn't responded, she poked his chest with one finger. "What?"

Heat suffused his face. "I thought that you figured… you know, I was in the Army, and I was working for you, so I knew—"

"How to take orders?" She laughed. "No. I actually thought you'd be less likely to let me lead." She playfully raked her nail over him. "And I'll remind you that I talked to you about this afterwards."

"We had a conversation about it, yes, but I don't think that's what you said."

"And I didn't even think about this relating to you being in the Army." She put her hand over her eyes. "I mean, that's kind of gross, Monroe."

Genuine laughter rolled out of him. "Gigi, if you knew some of the things I've been asked to do in bed because I was in the Army…"

She gaped at him. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not. Let's just say submitting to my partner isn't even top five." The expression on his unflappable boss's face made him laugh again. "I have been asked to do some bizarre, freaky shit."

"Did you do it?"

"That's just one of the many things I will never tell you about, boss." He grinned up at her. "I've never done this before, but it's not that weird." He looked up at her ceiling. "At first, when you told me to take off my shirt, it was like a challenge. A test. Am I strong enough to do this your way?" He turned back to her. "Am I strong enough not to touch you? Am I strong enough not to come? Can I stay in control long enough to do what you tell me to do? I mean, you're saying it's kind of gross, but in a way, the Army trained me for this. Delayed gratification, control of my body, that's all part of my training."

She smiled down at him for a moment. "Maybe that's why you're so good at it." She leaned over to kiss his forehead, and she stroked his hair. Then she sat up and blew out the candle.

She shed the robe and dropped it on the foot of the bed before getting under the covers with him. Sleep rolled toward him, now that it was dark, and he wrapped one arm around her waist while pillowing her head on the other. She turned in his embrace until her forehead touched his.

"You're definitely strong enough, Monroe." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Now get some sleep."