“Angela, can I ask you a question about Ben?” Jillian shifted on her barstool so she no longer faced the room of eager singles swirling wine in their glasses and making eyes at one another. Exactly like a singles bar, but without the handsy creeps.

“You can ask. I may not answer.” Angela had changed into a loose cotton shift dress, but she still struggled with a glass of chocolate milk.

“Fair enough. Does he really have a rule about not dating students?” Jillian set down her iced tea, wanting to concentrate on Angela’s response. She needed some kind of insight into what had happened between them today. One minute he held her at arm’s length and the next it was as if he wanted to be inside of her.

“Oh, honey. Yeah. That’s why I tried to warn you off. He had a bad experience a few years ago. Don’t push him.”

“What happened?”

“Off the record?” Angela arched an eyebrow and kept her mouth shut until Jillian nodded. “He woke up to a note and two grand. The lady said she had a nice time, learned a lot, and was looking forward to her husband joining her that afternoon.”

“Ouch.” Two grand.

“Yeah. And when Ben makes a decision, nothing changes it. Even being wrong.” Angela thudded her glass against the bar.

“I’ve noticed.” Jillian offered a smile and wished she knew more about what was going on between Ben and Angela. But she had too many of her own problems to try and sort out someone else’s.

“He’s dealing with a lot right now. I’m sure you’re used to being able to land any guy you want, but not Ben, okay?”

“Not Ben, what?” The rich baritone caught both women off guard. Jillian turned to see Ben behind her, his intense blue eyes brightening with excitement in the late afternoon sun.

“Looking to steal some secrets, Cannon?” Angela teased. “I tell you what. I’ll tell you everything I know in exchange for an address. Or a phone number. You pick.”

“You never give up, do you, Angela? I’m not playing go-between for you.”

“Ben, please. I just need to speak with him. That’s all.”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you explain all the ways you plan on manipulating my brother. As it is, he doesn’t want to come back to town and have to deal with you. Just let him be and move on.”

Jillian stared in wonder. What had happened between Jay and Angela that made Ben so cold to her?

“I need to hear that from him.” Angela’s words were strong, but her bottom lip trembled.

“He’s got your number, Angela. I’ve told him you want to talk with him. If he’s interested, he’ll call.”

“Please.” Angela’s voice cracked, her hands wrung together. “I just need to talk to him.”

Ben stepped between them, blocking everyone’s view of Angela, even Jillian’s. Still she heard his whisper. “Not here. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, Ang. Let him be. You know how he gets when he feels pressured. That’s why he left in the first place.”

“But that wasn’t me, that was my father. I don’t—”

“Angela, not here.” Ben’s harsh whisper put Jillian on edge. Couldn’t he see Angela was hurting? What would it cost him to just let her talk with Jay?

In silence, Jillian watched Angela slip off the barstool and retreat behind the bar, into the hidden sections of Crosslands. Ben watched her go, then turned to face the room, leaning his elbows against the bar.

“I’m sorry about that. She does it every time she sees me, but I didn’t think she’d do it here.”

Jillian felt her bottom eyelids twitch, adrenaline coursing through her veins. How could he be so cold? How long would it be until she saw that side of him?

“Did you get what you came for?” His voice was light, easy, as if she hadn’t witnessed him crushing someone’s heart.

“And more.” Jillian tossed her hair over her shoulder. She’d had to start the entire straightening process over once she got back to her room. Thankfully he’d let her walk barefoot once they hit the lobby.

How was it this was the same man who’d clouded her senses a few hours ago? Jillian pursed her lips together, the berry-colored gloss sticking. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. There had to be more to the story. Didn’t there?

Jillian rubbed her damp palms against the skirt of her halter dress, keenly aware her desire for this man could lead to disaster. Every emotion she experienced was heightened in his presence.

Kissing him this afternoon shook her clear to the foundation of her soul. As much as she wanted to feel all she did with him, she’d secretly hoped to feel nothing. Then life could go on as it always had. She’d finally be able to be satisfied with what she had instead of always looking for more.

She barely noticed the man who slid next to the bar on the other side of her, until she felt the weight of his stare, and Ben’s. Though she was mindlessly staring into the room, observing the scene, both men focused on her.

Jillian had grown used to the attentions of men at these kinds of functions. But she felt Ben’s possession heavy on her skin, covering her from the dangling earrings to her high-heeled sandals. The other man’s gaze fell solely on her cleavage.

Curiosity, anger, spite mixed to turn her head and gift the stranger with the high-beam smile she saved for just these occasions. The Dating Diva began learning all she could about what brought him here.

She felt Ben leave, but didn’t turn to acknowledge him. No need to encourage his behavior. He was a ball of contradictions she was terrified to learn. He could be so warm and yet so cold. So aloof and yet so passionate. That, coupled with the fear of losing herself again, the way she had so willingly at his house, made it seem like the right thing to do.

She quickly tired of bachelor number two as soon as Ben was gone, politely sending him back into the fray. She watched a while longer, until her column began to form in her head. Smiling, she tossed her bag over her shoulder. She’d have it written by midnight.

* * *

Two hours, eight minutes. A personal best. Jillian was giddy as she toweled off her hair. The column flowed from her fingers this time. Written, formatted, edited and parked in her editor’s inbox. Plus she got the go-ahead to write the feature.

Jillian still got a thrill from every writing accomplishment. Someone thought her voice was worth listening to. Every byline patched holes left by a lifetime of feeling unworthy.

Stomping her foot against the tile, Jillian refused to give in to old habits. She wiped the steam off the mirror with the towel, staring at herself. She was almost getting used to seeing her eyes with the contacts in. She pinched them out of her eyes with expert ease. The first time it had taken her an hour to get them in. Now she could get them in or out in seconds.

Rubbing her face a final time with the towel, she wrapped it around her body and stepped into the cooler air of the bedroom. She pawed through the drawers, pulling out a black satin baby-doll nightgown. She’d done a column about how sleeping in lingerie could help you feel sexy all the next day. She’d packed an entire trousseau of lingerie for this trip, needing any extra edge she could find.

Sitting in the bed, she blew her frustrations into the air. She’d acted like a child tonight. So had he, her mind taunted, but Jillian refused to play. She’d come here to figure out just why she could never get Ben Cannon out of her head. Why she had to imagine him in order to get intimate with someone else. That wasn’t fair to anyone, and was why she hadn’t had many sexual experiences.

And she wanted to. She wanted to be able to swap naughty tales with her girlfriends over mojitos, or at least smile to herself at a fun memory. Right now all she had was guilt, and a suspicion she’d missed a step. She was still friendly with her two former lovers, had actually fixed both of them up with friends from work. Dave’s new girlfriend had no complaints, if her cocktail-hour stories were to be believed.

And they probably were. He was gentle, attentive, everything a girl was supposed to want. But being with him had felt forced, clinical, an obligatory step in their relationship.

Nothing like kissing Ben. She’d been wet before his lips touched hers. Usually she kept a bottle of warming gel in the nightstand.

Jillian laughed at herself. This was something to think about tomorrow. Tonight was for dreaming about finishing what they’d started in his kitchen. Tomorrow she’d worry about how to get through a visit with her family. After she figured out how to get home. She shook her head, as if that could throw them out of her mind. She wanted to relax, to sleep, to dream of Ben. She couldn’t get him off her mind if she wanted to.

Lying back against the pillows, she closed her eyes and tried to remember just how he’d made her feel. Desired, vulnerable, and so safe. A heady combination sure to make a girl dream.

*

Faster and faster he ran. Trying to outrun his anger, or at least beat it into submission. He’d been so stupid, thinking he was anything more than a fling to her. She’d proved as much, ignoring him, flirting with someone else right under his nose.

He pounded the pavement, grass, bare dirt and still his mind taunted him with the need he felt for her. When she was around he stopped thinking about time, his responsibilities, everything except for the passion she stirred in him.

It wasn’t physical. At least he’d figured that much out. She was too blonde, too thin. It was something woven into her DNA that drove him insane. His mind was filled with her, so vividly he could almost taste her skin.

He ran until forced to remember why his basketball career had ended, his ankle throbbing from abuse. An ankle could only sprain so many times before it balked and refused to heal all the way. Finally stopping, he looked around himself for the first time in an hour. The moon and stars lit up the night brighter than the spotlights in the Cannon Meadows parking lot.

He chuckled, realizing he’d run his well-worn five-mile loop without even realizing it. Run straight to her. Would she be in her room now? Would she be alone?

His body lurched at the thought of her beneath someone else. He’d never been jealous before, always seeing it as a sign of weakness, insecurity. But now his blood burned at the mere idea.

Punching a code into an electronic lock, he entered the hotel through a side door, and crept along a back service-hallway. He thought of going to the safe, getting a key for her room. And he might, if she didn’t answer.

No sound followed him as he made his way to her room. Standing before the door, he felt her inside. Just wood separating them, like this afternoon at home. But this time he knew exactly what he wanted from her.

He pounded the door with the side of his fist. If she wasn’t alone his knuckles had a much better use. That thought had him beating the door again. Swallowing hard, he remembered the lodge was full of other guests. Ones who wouldn’t want to see the proprietor beating down anyone’s door. He remembered, but he didn’t care and hammered the door again.

In the silence he heard her feet shuffling over the tile. She’d probably be afraid. Good, he wanted her on edge. It might even things out a bit.

The door inched open and he pushed it aside, making her back into the room.

“Ben, what are you doing here?”

“Are you alone?” The soft, quizzical green of her eyes hit him even before he realized she was clad only in a towel she had to hold up with one arm. Blonde ringlets fell haphazardly across her face. The universe suddenly began to make more sense.

“Of course I’m alone. I was working tonight, Ben, not trying to pick someone up in front of you. It’s good to know you have such a high opinion of me.”

He gripped at her shoulders, pulling her up off her feet. He covered her mouth with his, silencing the words that kept failing them both. Her lips parted willingly for him, letting him kiss her deep, and deeper still. He walked her backwards towards the bed. Breaking the kiss, he released her arms, dropping her to the mattress.

Sitting on the edge, she struggled to keep the towel on. Her breath escaped in rough pants not unlike his own. Ben looked around the darkened room, trying to find his self-control. Instead, his eyes tripped over a scrap of black satin pooling on the bed next to her.

His eyes widened as he stared down at her, his breath heaving from his nose. Was it just that she was alone, now? Had she already entertained that lout from the bar and was looking for another round?

She turned her head to follow his gaze. When she saw what he was staring at she tugged the towel tighter.

“I fell asleep. I got out of the shower and lay down for a second.”

“Or he’s come and gone, and you were trying to wash him off.”

“You can leave now.” The liquid green of her eyes seemed molten, boiling.

“You sure? Because you seem ready to go again.” He sucked his cheek between his teeth. That was rough, but it’s what came out. He considered apologizing, but she started talking again.

“I wish you knew me better.” Jillian closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “I could never do something like that. Some people can, but not me. If you knew—”

“Don’t I know you, Jillian?” Her head shot back with a snap that opened her eyes. Just what kind of game was she playing? “Was he here? Yes or no?”

“No.” Her gaze bored into him until he believed her.

“Lose the towel.” He locked her gaze, daring her to make a move either way.

“Ben, I—” Her mouth slammed shut, pursing her lips together. He felt her studying him the way he’d done to her seconds before.

How had he not seen it? This afternoon her face had been clean, the creamy skin, the freckles. She must have been wearing contacts, her hair was different, and her entire body was more angular now, but it was no excuse. He should have known. Would have, if she’d wanted him to.

“Do you believe me?” Her voce was weaker this time, unsure. Not at all what he wanted.

“Lose the towel.”

Vulnerability stained her eyes as she untucked the corner of the towel, pulling the edges wide and letting them fall.

Their gazes still locked, he noticed her cross her legs, cross her arms to try to hide her nudity from him. But it was that nakedness that he craved.

“Put your hands behind you.”

“Why?” She didn’t move a muscle.

“You want to. You want me to see you.” Looking down at her nervous expression, Ben realized she couldn’t really see him. The only light came from the entry, behind him. He could see her well enough, but he would be all shadows to her.

“Not like this.” Curls tumbled about her bare shoulders as she shook her head.

“Exactly like this. Put your arms behind you.”

Uncrossing her arms, she placed them behind her on the bed, leaning back slightly, her rosy nipples rigid with arousal. Stepping forward, Ben bent and laved the tip with his tongue. Jillian shivered beneath the touch. When he sucked the nipple into his mouth her back arched, pressing herself into him.

She wanted more, and he’d give it to her. Later. When they both weren’t feeling so damned needy. Straightening up, he spun on his heel and marched to the bathroom. Just as he’d expected, three condoms decorated the front of the toiletry basket. He shook away the memory of his father fighting the hotel manager about putting condoms in rooms, claiming Cannon Meadows was a family resort. That may be, but it came in handy right now.

Stalking back to where she sat, her arms still behind her, he tossed them on the bed next to her. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. He couldn’t for the life of him imagine what it could be. A coy protest? Play hard to get now? It was a little late for games like that. Especially when there were so many better things they could be doing.

Her puckered nipple was still wet when he bent to it again. Blowing a steam of air across it elicited a whimper from her throat. He could smell her growing excitement, thankful that it matched his own. He scraped the side of his cheek against the bud, hearing the stubble scratch at her sensitive flesh.

“Kiss me.” The whisper floated through the darkness.

“Where?” He stood back and pulled the T-shirt over his head. The same green shirt she’d worn that afternoon. He’d put it on because it faintly smelled like her, like her wanting him. That scent was no longer faint.

He stepped to her, nudging her crossed leg with his thigh. She straightened them, but her knees pressed tightly together. Reaching down, he rolled her nipple between his fingers, pulling slightly. Dipping his head, he sucked it into his mouth, lapping around the tip with his tongue. Her stuttered breath, flushing chest told him she was ascending, her body relaxing enough to forget to hold her knees together.

Ben wedged his leg between hers. She clamped him between her thighs, her eyes opening in alarm.

“I’m not—” was all she got out.

“You are.” Ben pressed his hand flat against her shoulder, knocking her off balance, pressing her back onto the bed. Taking advantage of startling her, he wedged the other leg between hers and sank to his knees. Gasping for breath, she tried to sit up when he pulled her legs east and west, slinging them behind his shoulders, pulling her hips to the edge of the mattress, the intoxicating aroma of her arousal growing stronger the closer he came to getting what he wanted.

Turning his head, he licked the smooth expanse of her inner thigh. Her ragged moan rang in his ears. Lifting her leg, he kissed the hollow behind her knee. The taste of her skin was addicting. Each nibble left him wanting more. And more.

When he licked his way back to her hip she quivered, so deep he felt it all the way to his spine. How was it she could do this? Feel something so deeply he sensed it too?

Air rasped against his lungs as he pulled her closer, spreading her legs even wider. He pulled her open with his hands, ran his thumbs along her engorged lips. They were bare, only a tufted triangle decorating the apex of her thighs.

Some men were into breasts, others lips, but Ben had always been fascinated by the secrets a woman kept hidden between her legs. He took a long slow breath, not wanting to rush something he would enjoy so much.

He rubbed his stubble-roughened cheek against her soft inner thigh. The catch in her breath was like music to his ears. Flattening his tongue, he licked the outside of her lips, bottom to top and back down the other side.

He watched her bite her lower lip and fist the comforter, pulling the material toward herself. Her frustration made him smile. She wouldn’t be this way for long.

Parting her with his thumbs, he gazed at the pink juicy flesh, glazed with arousal. His fingers played, tracing her up and down until he realized her inner lips pulled back into a perfect heart.

The first taste of her against his tongue and he erupted in a deep guttural moan. She was so clean and fresh and light. She tilted herself up for him, using her legs on his shoulders for leverage. He snuck a final peek at her. She’d propped herself up on her elbows. He knew she’d enjoy the show.

He licked her from her bottom, over her clit, to her belly and then back down. Her words were unintelligible, but he was now in position to watch how her body reacted. He could see her stomach muscles tighten, her inner muscles clench. She needed release as much as he did.

He glanced at the condoms lying on the bed beside her. How many times could she go tonight? At best he’d get three. He’d never been brought off orally. But a woman, she could go as many times as he had time for. And he had the time.

Flattening his tongue, Ben began to taste her, learning the nuances and folds, the different flavors of the different territories. She was cooing before he even got to her clit.

Her fingernails scratched over his scalp. Ben pulled back and grabbed at her wrists. “Don’t rush me.”

“Then come up here.” Her voice was lower, throatier than he’d heard yet. He would not be rushed, not now, not with her. Placing her hands against her inner thighs, he pushed them wider still.

“Leave them there, or I’m done,” he lied. Could she tell? Her head fell back against the bed in defeat. Ben was relieved she didn’t try to call his bluff.

Rubbing the pad of his thumb against her hardening nub, Ben dipped back into her folds. Circling his tongue around her entrance, he felt her spasms start. He pressed his tongue deeper inside to feel them. Tiny fluttering twinges that perfectly matched her whispers of his name.

He caught most of her slippery excitement on his tongue and lavished it up her slick inner lips. Pointing his tongue, he flicked it along the underside of her erect clit.

“It’s too much,” Jillian groaned above him, but her hands stayed firmly planted on her thighs, still holding herself open to him. She might be right, or she just might not know her own body that well. Hoping for the latter, Ben focused on her clit. He didn’t want to have to stop before he knew every nuance of her.

Her hips started to rock in time with him, her breath quickening again. Ben fastened his mouth on her nub and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking all the while. He pressed his middle finger against her opening, threading it inside her as she arched upwards.

Her head thrashed from side to side, her moaning lower this time. He so loved going down on a woman who truly appreciated the effort. It made him want to do better. He swirled his finger around, adding another. Releasing her clit, he curled his fingers upwards, searching for, finding, a soft spongy pad.

“Don’t stop, please, just don’t stop.” The throaty whisper echoed in his ears. He had no intention of stopping. Now, or ever.

He latched onto her clit again, sucking it hard until she gasped. Her writhing evolved into bucking, urging him on. His reward came fast and furious. He thought he might have felt it begin before she did, the clenching around his fingers coming seconds before her muted squeal, before the spasming of her taut stomach muscles, before even her legs shook.

This time he didn’t push her further. He sensed her body needed to recoup from that one. Standing up, he lifted her to the center of the bed, laying her back against the pillows. But he wasn’t done with her yet.