He wasn’t lying, exactly. That excuse sounded lame even in his head but he shoved it to the side as he strode down the hall toward the guest rooms. He knew exactly which room she was in. Only one had a canopy bed. But he let her direct him and soon they were in the room, the door kicked shut behind him. He laid her down on the bed as gently as he could.

Fuck, she was beautiful. And funny, and smart, and pretty much a force of nature in her own right. From the moment she’d walked into his bar, he’d been smitten.

Smitten was not something he was used to being. But hell, nothing could have prepared him for the little whirlwind of a blonde who’d upended his life from the moment he saw her.

And now she was smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling with a heady combination of laughter and desire. She spread her arms out enticingly. “Do you like my bed?” she teased.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her until she was moaning with desire. She’d had that effect on him from the moment he’d met her, come to think of it. He wanted to be this woman’s best friend and her sex slave all at once.

Right now, he’d settle for sex slave. Coming down on top of her, he scooped her into his arms, careful not to crush her as he pressed himself against her. Jesus, her body was amazing. Perfectly curvy in all the right places, she molded to him as if designed to be fitted against him.

Her soft moan as his lips moved over hers brought a rush of lust so intense it shook him to his core. He needed her, but he wanted to make sure it was good for her.

No, that was an understatement. He wanted to make sure he was the best she’d ever had. A primal force was insisting that he pleasure her so thoroughly she forgot every other sexual encounter before this.

Right. No pressure.

But then her arms twined around his neck and she was arching against him. He forgot all about his intentions and acted on instinct. That had always worked for him before and he hoped like hell that instinct helped him navigate this situation. Because much as she insisted they wouldn’t see each other again, he knew that they would.

He’d make sure of it.

She tasted of scotch and honey as her tongue tangled with his. Her hips arched up, pressing against his erection and making him groan. Slipping his hand beneath her shirt, he touched the impossibly soft skin of her belly, her waist, moving up to tease the edges of her bra. Moving over the thin material, he felt her hard nipples and he nearly missed her whimper through his own growl of satisfaction.

This woman was perfection. There was no way he’d let her slip away. How he was going to win her was a problem for another day. For right now, all he could do was concentrate on her—her taste, her sounds, her touch.

Moving on to his knees, he tugged off her T-shirt and then her pants. When she was gazing up at him through lids heavy with desire, her perfect body laid out for his view, he thought he might beg her then and there to give him a chance. She reached out and tugged at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, so he helped her with the task. When his shirt was gone, she made a sort of hissing noise that had him looking down in concern. She looked… stricken.

Oh shit, what if she’d changed her mind? What if she just realized how crazy this was and needed him to stop. He would, of course he would—but it would be hell on earth. He froze, taking deep breaths to calm the urges that demanded he continue. “Are you all right?”

After what felt like an excruciatingly long moment her lips parted and she let out a long exhale as she met his gaze. “Never better.” She reached out to stroke the muscles of his chest and he heard her murmur as if to herself, “Never fucking better.”

Her hands were everywhere as he moved to taste as much of her as he could. Trailing kisses over her neck, her chest, her belly and hips, he teased her until she was bucking beneath him, grabbing at his shoulders, his hair. “More. I need more.”

Good. So did he. He unhooked her bra and took one greedy moment to soak in the sight of those luscious breasts before he leaned down to lick and suck and nip at them, giving them all the unabashed adoration they deserved just for existing.

By the time he was done, she was writhing, gripping his hair and holding him to her as he sucked hard on her nipple. “Fuck, not-Steve, don’t make me wait. I want it.”

Thank God. He released her just long enough to tug his jeans off and grab the protection he always kept in his wallet like the walking cliché he apparently was. But though he carried protection, he’d never had to use it. At least not like this in some crazy impulsive first date that wasn’t even a date.

By the time he’d positioned himself back between her thighs, she’d lost her panties and was waiting for him, naked and ready.

Oh holy God. Please say this wasn’t a dream or a delusion. Though it had to be because she was too good to be true. Her wild blonde curls framed her face like a halo as she grinned at him with that mischievous expression he’d already grown to love.

“I take it all back,” she whispered as he leaned down over her and stroked an errant curl away from her face.

“I fucking love this lodge,” she said.

Yet again he didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her. So he did both. Laughing softly as he closed the distance between them. Her lips met his halfway, clinging and molding as though they’d been kissing for a lifetime. As though they’d been designed to fit against one another forever.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he eased into her. She was unbelievably tight and wet and ready for him. Her moan filled his ears as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her, reveling in the feel of her skin pressed against his.

And then they were moving together, the rhythm slow and steady as he worshipped her body with his hands, his lips. Words tumbled out of him low and soft—words of adoration and praise. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

And then she was talking too, but her words were a mix of curses and prayers, meaningless but heartfelt as she threw her head back, losing herself to the throes of passion.

He drew his head back to watch her come. Holy fuck, she was enchanting. Devastating in her passion and vivacity. After her last cry, when her legs tightened around him and her muscles clenched him tight, only then did he let himself go, following her over the brink and into oblivion.

* * *

The next morning Bryce slipped out before she woke. Not because he was running away, but because he couldn’t sleep. He’d always been an early riser and he had calls to make and people to meet before the sun would rise.

But that didn’t stop him from thinking about his little minx from the night before. Or obsessing over her, really.

He’d tell her everything over breakfast. Maybe he’d bring it to her room so they could cuddle in bed over her coffee. And then they could revisit her whole “I’ll never see you again” pronouncement.

Worry niggled at him whenever he thought about that, but he pushed it to the side. She hadn’t had all the facts when she’d said it, that was all. Once he explained that he had a place in New York, surely they could work something out.

He leaned back in his office chair, lost in a memory of the way she’d cried out last night. Then he winced. She’d called him Not-Steve. While it had started as a joke, he couldn’t wait to hear her shout his actual name the next time he brought her to climax.

The sound of people moving about in the halls brought him back to his senses. He had more work to do before going out to greet his guests. Guilt had him shifting uncomfortably in his desk chair as he sorted through his email and phone messages. The head of the CRBO board would be expecting to hear from him. They’d been putting the pressure on to get him to buy into the company, which, according to his most trusted finance guy, was floundering. That was part of the reason he’d invited the executive committee here this weekend. It was a business move, although he was still highly doubtful that he’d pursue it. He’d never had much of an interest in cable news, and the guests he’d talked to when he’d arrived yesterday afternoon hadn’t done much to convince him.

Now if Not-Rhonda had tried to convince him… God, he hated that he didn’t even know her name. But he’d find out soon enough. And if she wanted to sell him the company, he had no doubt she could.

I can sell anything. He found himself grinning into space like an idiot at the memory of her confident statement. She’d said she hadn’t known why she could sell anything to anyone… but he did. She was so damn charismatic—she was intelligent and witty, with just enough self-deprecating humor to ensure she didn’t come across too arrogant. On top of that, she had a… something. Dammit, he’d never been great with words. Big ideas, he could do. Strategic planning, managing at a large scale—all things he could do. But putting a concept as great as Not-Rhonda’s charm into words? Not his forte.

He supposed the closest he could come was her joie de vivre. She had an energy, a liveliness, a zeal that was impossible to quantify or qualify but that she exuded as surely as she had blonde hair and an adorable button nose.

God, she was cute. And hot.

He thought of her stretched out on the bed.

And sexy as hell.

A knock on his door brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost so much valuable time daydreaming but for the past two hours he’d gotten less work done than he typically got done in twenty minutes.

“Come in,” he called.

Darren walked in, impeccably dressed in a suit and looking like he’d been hard at work for several hours. He probably had been. As his right-hand man, Darren was the numbers guy. While he was good with numbers, Darren was a genius.

Darren also shared Not-Rhonda’s distaste for the wilderness. But he’d insisted that he come along since he knew the CRBO higher-ups would want to hold discussions about a possible buyout. Not that this was public knowledge. Only the highest-level executives knew it was a possibility—and a far-off one at that, he reminded himself when a flicker of guilt had him tapping his fingers on his desk in an unusual display of discomfort.

Darren’s eyes went to his hand, catching the gesture and eyeing him with far too much intelligence.

Sometimes it sucked to be surrounded by people who were so perceptive. This was one of those times.

“Is everything all right?” Darren asked quietly.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Did you finish reviewing the proposal?”

Darren took that as his cue to walk forward, presenting a file for him to look over. “The numbers check out. You could afford the buyout, if it’s of interest to you.” Darren finished speaking but his tone cut off oddly, as if there was more he was going to say. He didn’t have to say it, though. He already knew. If it’s of interest to you…but it’s not.

Darren had been by his side long enough to know what steered him—his gut. He’d been fortunate enough to inherit the company that his father had built and under his control it had grown exponentially. Not because he was a financial genius or because he used shady tactics, but because he followed his instincts. They’d never steered him wrong. If he had a hunch about a technology company or had a vision for a floundering manufacturing operation, he saw it through.

He always succeeded. He grinned at the memory of that sweet, sultry voice. I’m not bragging, it’s just the truth.

He’d never had much interest in television before but he always considered a good possibility. He was still on the fence with this one, even after meeting with the top executives. Still, his little meet-and-greet with the executive team couldn’t be put off much longer, they’d descend on him like hounds over breakfast.

He just needed to make sure he got to talk to Not-Rhonda first.

“Are you all right?” Darren asked. “You look… not like yourself.”

He shot a look at his long-time colleague, who was showing an unusual display of tact. “Not myself, huh?”

Darren dropped the tact. “You look constipated.”

He let out a huff of a laugh at what was most likely an accurate description. “I’ve got to break some news to someone and I’m not quite sure how to do it.”

Darren made an ah sound and started backing away toward the door, wisely and accurately assuming that he wasn’t asking Darren for advice on that particular topic. Where Darren excelled with numbers, he failed spectacularly in social interactions. For the sake of all negotiations and business relationships, Darren stayed in the background.

Bryce was the one who charmed and schmoozed his way through the shark-infested corporate world. Pushing his chair away from the desk, he came to a stand. If anyone could handle this conversation gracefully, surely it was him.

With renewed confidence, he called out to Darren just before his employee disappeared from view. “Ask the cook to make me a special platter, would you? Her best pastries and coffee for two.”

Darren’s brows hitched up the tiniest bit but he didn’t respond and didn’t ask questions. He just gave a short nod and went off to do as he was bid.

He stared at the door Darren closed behind him, trying to get his thoughts in order for this impromptu breakfast in bed, which would also serve as his confessional.

But in his defense, he hadn’t set out to dupe anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even set out to sleep with anyone. He’d just wanted a drink to drown his sorrows. Well, sorrows was a little strong. It wasn’t like he’d been suffering a great heartache after breaking things off with Miranda. They hadn’t been dating long enough for it to be too painful, but it had still stung.

He scowled down at the desk, where his notes and messages were scattered. It wasn’t every day he found out he was being cheated on, whether it was with a new girlfriend or not. He supposed if he was being honest it was his pride that stung more than anything.

He’d gone down to the bar for a nightcap to try to soothe his wounded ego, but then… there she was. Waltzing in with that adorable, quizzical smile and informing him he was not Steve.

He’d realized in a heartbeat that she didn’t recognize him. For the first time in a long time, he was just a guy. A lonely, hurting guy who found himself chatting with a woman who made him laugh.

And made him hard.

She inexplicably made him laugh while simultaneously turning him on like no woman had before. The effect had been mesmerizing, captivating. Nearly overwhelming, really. He’d felt like a teenager again, all raging hormones and zero game.

He headed toward the door. But not today. This morning he was back to himself—sober and with a plan. He’d pick up her tray, bring it to her room, and talk to her. And then, once he got that out of the way, he’d make love to her again.

He heard some boisterous male voices from the main hall—every group he hosted had their early birds and he resented the hell out of them for encroaching on his key business hours in the wee hours of the morning. He cringed at the sound of a man’s falsely enthusiastic laugh. He supposed after he made love to his woman, he’d have to deal with these executives and explain that he wasn’t ready to invest in their company. There was nothing wrong with the plan, but nothing in his gut told him he needed it either. He’d wait for an opportunity that was right.

Or at least, he’d wait until his gut made itself clear. It had been oddly quiet this morning, leaving him feeling more wishy-washy than he could ever remember.

It had to be because of the way he’d left her this morning, looking so peaceful in her sleep. It was guilt that was interfering with his business sense. But once he fed her, once he made love to her, once he explained the true nature of his feelings for her—

“Bryce!” a male voice he didn’t recognize startled him out of his thoughts.

His head shot up and he realized with a jolt that two of his guests had wandered into the hallway, intercepting him on his way to the kitchen.

Shit. He just wanted to woo his girl with croissants—was that too much to ask?

One of the men—Gary, he thought his name was—gave him a blinding grin as he took another step toward them. In an overly friendly tone, Gary reached out and shook his hand while slapping his other arm in a weird bro-hug.

God save him from kiss-asses.

“You’re a morning person too, eh?” Gary asked, like they were members of an exclusive club.

Before he could respond, he was being ushered into the room where the other “morning people” had gathered, most likely to drink their coffee before breakfast was set out. He made the polite greetings and gently tried to extricate himself from Gary’s surprisingly fierce grip. “I’ll join you for breakfast, but first I’ve got to—”

His eyes landed on his woman from the night before and he was struck dumb. God, she was even more beautiful in the morning light.

She was also clearly angry.

Royally pissed, to be exact.

She was frowning at him with such force it looked painful. It wasn’t a glare so much as a glower. He dimly noted that he’d been a fool to leave her this morning for so many reasons, not the least of which was that she was clearly also a morning person. She must have gotten up shortly after he had in order to look the way she did. Like she’d showered, put on makeup, and even had time to blow out those curls of hers so they fell in neat, bouncy waves around her shoulders rather than the wild, irrepressible halo they’d formed last night. Dressed in fitted jeans and a buttoned-down shirt, she looked approachable but professional.

She also looked hot.

And furious.

And he really had to stop staring or her bosses would notice that their best saleswoman was flaring her nostrils and pursing her lips, looking a bit like she might charge him and tackle him to the ground.

The image made him want to laugh, but he saw her fiery anger when he let his amusement show and shut it down.

Dammit, she wasn’t supposed to find out like this.

But Gary and the other oblivious executives were making the introductions. He was being told name after name that he would never remember and he forced himself to nod and look in the appropriate direction as the small group of men and women smiled and said good morning when their names were called. It was a bit like kindergarten, really. Everyone was so polite. So insincere with their smiles and their forced chipperness.

All except for her. Not Rhonda.

“And this is Katherine, our number one salesperson for the year,” Gary said with a fatherly grin as he wrapped an arm around his woman.

Bryce hoped no one else heard the low growl in his throat.

She did. He saw it in the way her eyes widened. Or maybe she was shocked by the way Gary was showing her off like his little pet. He wondered if he was the asshole she’d been referring to last night. The one who was always hitting on her…

“And that’s Todd—he oversees the sales department,” Gary continued.

Todd. He’d bet all his money that Todd was the asshole who sexually harassed his employees. The guy smirked in his direction as he said good morning, his hair too perfect, his teeth too white, and his vibe so overwhelmingly condescending Bryce wanted to punch him in the face.

He fucking hated Todd.

He glanced in Katherine’s direction—Katherine. It suited her. Definitely better than not-Rhonda. If he had any doubts about Todd, one look at her told him everything he needed to know. She was still wrapped in Gary’s awkward side-hug as she redirected her withering glare to Todd.

She never looked back.

For the next interminably long period of time—which may have only been ten minutes, just until breakfast was set out—he had to stand there and make idle chitchat with a group of over-eager assholes, including Todd, all while trying and failing to catch Katherine’s eye and…what? Psychically apologize? He didn’t know. But if he could just get her to look at him, he could make some excuse to talk to her privately. Maybe ask her to stay behind while the others ate, or something. He just needed a minute alone with her, but she was frustratingly surrounded by the coworkers she presumably hated. At the moment she seemed pleased as punch to be catching up with them, chatting over coffee, always with a different group than the one he was talking to.

She was avoiding him, and she was doing it extraordinarily well.