This was a mistake. She should be pushing him away, not leading him on. But damn, he felt so freakin’ good. His body was harder and stronger than she remembered, his arms satisfyingly tight around her as he finally, finally gave her the kiss she’d been aching for since the first moment she’d opened the door and saw him standing there.

His mouth was hot and insistent as it moved over hers. He gripped her waist and then moved down to cup her bottom, helping to lift her slightly so she was pressing against him in all the best ways. They both groaned as he ground his erection into her belly, so tantalizingly close except that they were still dressed.

And this was a mistake.

But it was just one night. What was one more fuck after they’d done it so many times? It wasn’t like they’d be entering new territory.

Except that he wanted to date her.

That was new.

Shit. Why did he have to go and ruin everything with romance? She wasn’t ready for that. It wasn’t her time. She had a career to build…rebuild, as it were. And then maybe she’d be ready to set her sights on a relationship.

But not yet. Not now. And certainly not with a guy who’d run roughshod all over her perfectly laid plans.

His tongue swept into her mouth, exploring, teasing, distracting her from any thoughts of why this was a bad idea.

It was one night, he said so himself. No need to panic—she could still keep it all under control. One more night with this man wasn’t going to ruin her life.

Really? Hadn’t she thought the same thing a few weeks ago, back when she’d still had a job?

He tugged at her dress, pulling it up higher and higher until her thighs were fully exposed and his hands were underneath, greedily roaming over her flesh, slipping up to touch her belly, her waist, and…oh Lord, he skimmed one hand over that sensitive area just above her panty line.

Gasping, she pulled her head back for air. She had the distinct impression that she’d been worried about something, but for the life of her all she could think about now was his touch, and how she needed more of it.

“One night,” he growled, and she knew he wasn’t still asking or waiting for permission.

Fuck, this guy would be the death of her.

“Fine,” she bit out less than graciously. “One night.”

No one spoke after that. What followed was a series of grunts and moans as he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, shamelessly grinding herself against him, so needy for relief she was senseless with it.

And she didn’t care.

The decision had been made. The damage was done.

They’d have one more night together and then this would be over. A pang of disappointment was swift and fierce and it nearly distracted her from savoring the moment.

Nearly.

Luckily he found her neck and his tongue did something delicious that got her back in the game. He walked them over to her couch and positioned her so they were lying down, him hovering over her, already moving down to trail kisses along her belly as he shoved the dress up. She helped him get it the rest of the way up so she was clad in her bra and panties. “Now you,” she ordered.

He barely hesitated, moving so quickly his clothes were gone in an instant and she was free to ogle to her heart’s content. Fuck, he was beautiful. Manly and sexy but beautiful. Perfectly made. Kudos to his DNA because he’d won the genetic jackpot.

He came back to her and she tried to touch everything she’d just seen as he moved between her thighs, whipping off the last of her clothes as he did. His skin was hot against hers as he laid down, gently pressing her into the cushions.

His weight was heady. The feel of his muscles pressing against her was intoxicating. The feel of his hands moving over her, molding her breasts and gripping her ass.

Perfection.

And then he was in her and her brain shut off completely, every sense attuned to the feel of his thick cock moving inside her, filling her so completely. She arched to meet him, her hips matching his rhythm as the tension built, their hands gripping harder, her legs squeezing tightly, his mouth crushing hers.

And then she was gone, over the edge and shattering in his arms. He followed soon after with a groan and she felt a surge of possessive bliss as he collapsed on top of her, moving to the side just enough that she wasn’t crushed by his weight.

The seconds ticked by too quickly. Blissful and content, she resented like hell the new reality that was settling over her with every passing moment.

She liked this. Hell, she liked him. This was not okay.

Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had places to be, friends to see, and a man to date and then kick to the curb. Because this…whatever the hell this was that she was feeling…she did not like it.

Her chest felt tight, almost anxious. She liked being with him too much. She liked fucking him way beyond proportion. It was just a fuck, not a freakin’ life-changing event. She didn’t like the way she wanted to stay here on this couch all night long and never move.

She hated that she was actually tempted to skip Yvette’s gallery opening just because of a good lay. And because he was fun to be around. And because he made her laugh. And because—

Dammit! She hated that the list of reasons she wanted to continue spending time with him was growing. Worst of all, she didn’t like this feeling she had going on right now. It was weird and it was not like her.

It was almost…needy. That was it, she felt needy. Clingy, even. Like she wanted to wrap him up and stick him in her bedroom and keep him away from every other woman until the end of time.

Not good.

She shoved him off her with a little more force than absolutely necessary, a fact he drove home with his oomph of surprise as he rolled off her.

“We need to get moving if we’re going to get there in time,” she said, already scrambling to pick up her clothes and shimmy into her panties with as much grace as possible. She’d like to meet the woman who could put panties back on in a sexy manner. Luckily her up-do was supposed to be messy so a quick re-pinning had that back in effect and soon she was ready to go.

And so was Bryce.

God, he looked good. Why did he always have to look so good? The voice in her head whined, but there was nothing she could do about it. She blamed him for these new, weird feelings, just like she blamed him for the loss of her job.

Only, it was hard to stay annoyed with the guy when he was giving her that sexy, lopsided grin—the one that said he was fantasizing about taking her dress right back off so they could fuck all night long.

Oh, sweet temptation, thy name is Bryce Dalton.

“You all right?” he asked.

Ugh. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was sexy as hell, did he really have to be a sweetheart too? Why, God, why?

She gave a short nod, knowing full well that her smile was forced and not totally caring.

One night. She just had to get through one night.

And then she’d never see him again.

Yay? How come it felt like this was a lose-lose situation? At what point had this gone from a no-risk one-off vacation fling to a flip your life upside down, damned if you do damned if you don’t relationship.

No, not relationship.

But still, he walked back into her life and now everything was totally fucked up. Her perfect career was ruined, her night out with her friends was going to be ruined by trying not to like her date too much, and even fun casual sex on the couch was ruined because she was already starting to fret about never seeing him again.

Unless…

No. One did not become successful by saying “screw it” to the plan. Besides, Bryce was everything she did not want in a boyfriend. He was far too controlling, old-fashioned, and alpha for her liking.

She’d already decided what her ideal man would be like and quite frankly, he was the opposite of Bryce. She cast a quick look back to make sure he was following as she walked out of her apartment.

Except maybe in looks. She’d be totally cool with her long-term dude having Bryce’s looks.

But other than that? No, no, and no. She needed someone who supported her career, someone who didn’t try to intervene in her life. Someone reasonable, who acted sensibly. Not someone who showed up on her doorstep admitting that he’d temporarily lost his mind when he bought out her company just so he could fire her jerk of a boss.

And Todd really was a jerk.

But that was beside the point. It was ludicrous and unwarranted, not to mention unwanted.

Her hypothetical boyfriend would have to know what he wanted, which Bryce clearly did not, as evidenced once again by the fact that he blatantly admitted that buying her company had been a crazy whim.

A whim! She would not date a man who made business decisions—or any other decision, for that matter—on a whim.

Look where whims had gotten her. One whimsical fling to pass the time during a work retreat from hell, and look where that had gotten her.

Bryce tossed his suit jacket back on—either he’d never gone back to his hotel to change or he just knew how good he looked in a suit, because he was still wearing that damned perfectly fitted suit that made her want to jump his bones.

Asshole.

He caught her eye and winked.

Yeah, her dream guy would definitely not wink. He’d be reserved. Staid.

Boring.

No, not boring. But he’d be like her…responsible, driven, maybe even a little ruthless. The hypothetical boyfriend had to respect her friendships and the fact that he wouldn’t always be number one in her life. Her job, her friends, and her family would all be a priority, just like they were now.

She would not change for any man.

When they reached the lobby, he held the door open for her and she bit back a sigh.

But most especially, she would not change for this man.

* * *

Kat wasn’t sure what she expected to happen when Bryce walked into the gallery, but it wasn’t this.

She watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as he charmed the pants off her friends. Well, they weren’t technically stripping for him, but she had the uncomfortable feeling they would if he asked.

Yvette was beaming at him, and yes, maybe he had just bought one of her pricier works of art, but still, she didn’t have to smile quite so excessively—it would go to his head. Even Caleb, who was straight as straight could be, was fawning over the man like he was a celebrity.

He was not. He was just a guy. A sexy, powerful, amazing-in-bed guy.

But Caleb, who actually was a celebrity in some circles, seemed to think this guy walked on water. And sure, maybe Bryce was being pretty funny, and yeah, he knew how to be personable and get people to talk about themselves.

She sighed as she stirred her cocktail. Dammit, this was not going according to plan. She was supposed to be seeing him in all his alpha-male glory. She was supposed to be despising him right about now.

So how the hell was she liking him even more?

She stabbed at a cherry in her drink with vengeful glee. Die, cherry, die!

“Are you all right?” Yvette had sidled up next to her when she wasn’t looking. Her bright purple hair was twisted up into a braid concoction atop her head that, when paired with her pale, airy gossamer gown, added to her fairy look. She should be frolicking in a field of poppies, not schmoozing with the snobby art crowd in Chelsea.

“Successful night?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself.

Yvette grinned and clapped her hands together. “Perfect.” She cast a meaningful look in Bryce’s direction. “You didn’t tell me your sexy lumberjack was coming.”

“He’s not mine, and as you know he is not a lumberjack.”

Yvette was still staring and Kat had the disturbing need to distract her so she would take her greedy eyes off her man. Oh Lord, she didn’t even recognize herself these days.

“I’ll say,” Yvette sucked on her straw in a way that was entirely too sexy and Kat resisted the urge to snatch it out of her mouth, “Your lumberjack cleans up nice.”

Kat opened her mouth to reiterate that he was not, in fact, hers—but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. So Yve would think he was hers for the night. What was the harm in that?

A silent alarm went off in her head. Danger, Will Robinson! This was the edge of a slippery slope. Let people think they were a couple one day and next thing you know they really would be a couple. She started to protest but she’d missed her moment.

Yve was already gushing about how Bryce had bought the painting that was the centerpiece for the whole show. It was the largest and most expensive of the exhibits. She gnawed on her lip to keep from announcing her fear that her not-boyfriend had bought the painting to either a) impress her with his benevolence or b) save Yvette, who she might have let slip on the drive over was as poor as a church mouse.

But to even hint at that would be cruel. Not only because Yvette truly did need the money, but also because there was every chance that he honestly had wanted the painting. No one could deny Yvette’s talent. She had a unique style that blended a feminine, whimsical aesthetic with an earthy, grim realism.

She’d been listed as one of the city’s up-and-coming sensations in New York Magazine, but in the art world critical acclaim rarely equaled financial success, and that was true for Yvette. But if Bryce and other rich folks started buying up her paintings, she’d be set. She’d have the artist’s ideal trifecta: prestige, influence, and rent money.

So instead of mentioning his Lancelot tendencies, she smiled and let her friend revel in the moment. When the gallery owner came over to ask Yve a question, she waved her friend off telling her to do her schmoozing thing and they’d catch up at the after party.

She was hiding—er, enjoying some much-needed alone time—in a corner behind the bar when Bryce found her.

And dammit if her heart didn’t start racing at the sight of him. And, even worse, she felt a rush of excitement. Because she wanted to talk to him. Yeah, she’d happily make out with him in a back room too, but her stupid, ridiculous, wayward brain seemed happy just to chat.

Stupid, stupid brain. How many times did she have to explain that this was not what she wanted?

He came over and leaned against the wall beside her so they were both people watching from their little hiding spot. She felt a surge of warmth envelope her at his nearness—something cozy and sweet, like sipping a mug of hot cocoa in front of a fire.

Oh, this was so bad. She edged away. This was not cocoa in front of a fire. This was temptation. This was the devil’s handiwork. This man was not part of the plan. Devil, be gone!

If he noticed her discomfort he didn’t comment and he didn’t try to follow her as she squirmed away from him. He seemed content to people watch and hang out beside her in silence.

He was the first to break it since she was too far gone in her brain, worrying about the fact that she wanted to talk to him as well as jump his bones.

“Your friends seem nice,” he said.

She made a noise of agreement. She could have mentioned that they seemed to adore him, but she didn’t. No need to encourage the man. One night and then he’d be gone.

“Are you all right?” He turned so he was leaning his shoulder against the wall, his body facing her, shielding her from the crowd. Dammit, he was protecting her again.

“You looked a little sad there,” he said.

Yes, she’d felt a wave of sadness that she wasn’t going to see him after tonight, did he really have to point it out? But it was nearly impossible to hold on to her peevishness when he was giving her that look of gentle concern.

Ugh, this guy was going to be the death of her.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“I noticed your friends didn’t mention the fact that you quit,” he said quietly.

“That’s because I haven’t told them.”

He didn’t ask why but the question was written all over his face and she found herself answering. “I didn’t want to worry them.”

His brows lifted in surprise and she felt the need to explain. “I’m kind of the responsible one in our group.” Kind of was putting it mildly. The joke was that she was the den mother and had been since day one of college. “I just feel like it will distress them if I tell them now.” She shrugged. “I’ll tell them eventually.” Like, after she got a new job and could once again be their go-to crutch.

“So they lean on you but you don’t lean back,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was judging, just summing it up. She shrugged again. Pretty much.

“I bet they’d like to be there for you.” Again, no judgement, just a reflection. She tried to summon up annoyance—how dare he speak on behalf of her friends!—but instead she found herself watching Caleb chat up some unsuspecting woman who looked way too sweet and naïve for Caleb, while Kat made the rounds with the gallery owner at her side.

Maybe he had a point. They’d all grown up since college. Sure, they still had their areas to grow, but that included her. Maybe it was time to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they didn’t need her to be the mother figure anymore.

The world shifted just slightly at that thought, but it threw her off balance. She glanced up at Bryce and saw him gazing at her serenely, as if he had nothing better to do than stand here and watch her think.

“Maybe you have a point,” she admitted.

One side of his mouth lifted in an impossibly sexy smile. “I have my moments.”

She found herself returning that smile before she could stop herself. “Trust me, they still need my help, but maybe they’re better able to deal than I give them credit for.”

He nodded slowly, as if seriously considering her words. “From my experience, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Maybe they just need help finding theirs.”

Her brain latched onto that in weird way, like he’d just tapped into a nerve ending. She felt lit up with excitement. “Exactly.” And then she found herself telling him about Bart, her friend who was excelling at his new career and how great it had felt to help him find a job that made him happy but used his vast knowledge and skills he’d honed in the world of video games.

She soon found herself nerding out on the topic of her friends and helping them find their place. “Just because they’re artistic doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be able to make money, you know?”

It was eventually seeing the amusement in his eyes that made her voice trail off. “I’m on a tangent, aren’t I?”

He nodded. “I like it. You’re clearly very passionate about your friends and have a knack for figuring out what makes people tick.”

She opened her mouth to say thanks but he wasn’t done.

“It’s clear to me what makes you a great sales person. I mean, your enthusiasm is contagious, and clearly you’re well able to read people.” He grinned. “Hell, I kind of want to hire all your friends right now, even though I have no idea why I need an artist and a daytime soaps star on my payroll.”

She found herself laughing despite herself, but her laughter died as his demeanor shifted subtly. He grew a little more serious, a little more wary. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but CRBO could really use your skills. And it’s clear that you loved your job—”

“No,” she interjected. “I didn’t.”

At his questioning look, she clarified. “I didn’t love that job. I was good at it. There’s a difference.”

He nodded. “I suppose there is.”

She shrugged. “I like doing what I’m good at.” And then, because he was such a good listener—dammit!—she found herself telling him more than she ought. “It’s such an amazing feeling to be good at something, you know? To really, truly excel at something. But it’s not like I set out to be a salesperson. I don’t even think I actually like it. I just like the success.”

She made a face. “Ugh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

He shook his head, his gaze surprisingly serious. “Not at all. We all like to feel like we’re good at what we do. But what is it you don’t like about sales?”

She shifted, her gaze flickering around the crowded room as she thought it over. “Sales,” she said with a little laugh.

He grinned but didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

She bit her lip as she tried to put into words that restless, unsatisfied feeling she’d never quite been able to shake. “I don’t like that what I sell is meaningless. I mean air time, what is that? And before that I sold merchandise. A friend wants me to sell real estate for her.” She sighed. “But, none of that stuff makes me excited, you know?”

He nodded and she realized that he did know. “What about you? Do you love what you do?”

“I do,” he said slowly. With a self-deprecating shrug, he added, “But I also know that I’m extraordinarily lucky. Not many people are born into the wealthy life that I was. Not everyone can just take over the family business—”

“Not everyone can multiply it and turn a semi-successful company into a thriving, super-successful company, either.”

His brows shot up and she knew his surprise was over the fact that she was being so nice, but she played dumb. “What? I told you I did my research on you.”

He grinned and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. “Yes, you did.”

Somehow he managed to make that sound sexy. Like they were no longer talking about research or business or anything other than sex.

Sex. Sex. Sex.

Wow. Her brain latched on to that one word with a vengeance. The rest of the room seemed to fade away as the sound of blood rushing through her veins filled her ears and her eyes met his. Someone could have set off a fire alarm and she wouldn’t have cared or even noticed.

Leaning forward she felt the heat from his body as his lips came so tantalizing close, she nearly cried out when he stopped short of kissing her. “The night’s not over yet, is it?”

She shook her head. Oh, why bother fighting it—she’d already signed up for one night. Might as well make the most of her time. “I think I’ve made enough of an appearance for one night.”

She was rewarded with his wicked grin. “I’ll go grab a cab.”

Her breath left her as anticipation made her so hot it was hard to keep standing. “I’ll say my goodbyes.”