“Our audience has arrived,” Carson says as he cuts his eyes across the restaurant to a group of suits walking in, dripping in custom tailoring and privilege.

I smile a bit wider and nuzzle into his broad palm that’s still cupping my cheek. I try not to think about the fact that his hand on me is igniting my libido. “Is this what you had in mind?”

My adoring gaze is only somewhat feigned. And when his thumb brushes my mouth again, the shiver isn’t totally fake. This man is freaking H-O-T. How are we going to live like a loving couple under the same roof for more than two weeks without giving in to the blistering chemistry between us?

Does it matter if you do?

“Definitely. It would be better if I could kiss you right now,” he growls as if he’s impatient.

His voice does something to my self-control that isn’t good. Too bad I can’t slide onto the bench on his side of the booth and lay a lip lock on him without drawing too much attention in this posh place.

“How about when we finish our meal?” he suggests.

The way he’s looking at me—like he’s dying to take my clothes off and make me scream—has everything between my legs throbbing. If his desire is all an act, he’s the one who ought to be auditioning to become a star. I’m thoroughly convinced he wants me. That’s dangerous.

“They should still be here by then, so I’m counting on it,” I murmur in a sultry voice.

Yes, I’m flirting back. Every time I look at him, my stomach tightens and flutters like I’m a teenager in the throes of my first crush. I manage to smile somehow, but I’m all too aware that my gaze is inviting him to do far more. We’re basically eye fucking in public. And it’s the most exciting thing I’ve done with a man in years.

The waiter approaches slowly. Shen knows he’s interrupting something, but he has drinks in hand. A woman in a pressed white shirt and black pants is right behind him, carrying our bottle of wine.

“Here you are.” The waiter sets water in front of us, then grabs the bottle from the woman. Deftly, he opens it and pours a swallow for Carson.

He swirls it in his glass, sniffs the aroma, then tosses the liquid back. I watch him swallow. He’s got massive shoulders and a wide neck, and the bob of his Adam’s apple is somehow an incredible turn-on. I squirm in my seat as he nods the waiter’s way.

I’m barely aware of the quiet man pouring us each a glass. The vino I swore I wasn’t going to drink because it has too many calories suddenly becomes my lifeline. I really have no idea how I’m going to make it through this meal without crawling across the table to taste his mouth if I don’t have something to take the edge off.

I gulp down three big swallows in desperation.

Carson watches me with a sideways smile that’s sexier than hell.

“Are you ready to order, Mr. Frost?” The waiter looks at Carson expectantly.

“We are.”

Before he can say more, I cut in. As much as I’d love to, I can’t afford to sacrifice the calorie count I’ve allotted for dinner to this man the way I did the wine. “Is it possible to have a chicken breast grilled without butter or oil, and a salad with Italian dressing on the si—”

“Let me order for you, Ella.” He delivers the words like he’s a consummate gentleman who’s thinking only of me because I might strain my delicate vocal cords or stumble on this complicated menu. “She’ll have the eleven-ounce fillet, medium rare, and a lettuce wedge. Blue cheese is fine.”

“Actually, can you make that steak medium, and add a house salad? And I’d prefer Italian dressing. On the side, please.” I feel compelled to win at least a small caloric victory. If I don’t, I’ll leave North Carolina ten pounds heavier, not lighter. My next audition is too important to slack off. Rent depends on it.

Carson sends me a displeased glare that says I’m playing with fire. I don’t know why me eating rich food is so important to him. But I don’t ask the waiter again to have my meal prepared without fat or oil. I’ll simply try to maintain the rest of this job and be extra careful when I get back to LA.

Not that the man waiting on us is listening to me one whit. He knows exactly who’s paying the check and tipping him, so he looks to Carson for confirmation. My “boyfriend” nods. “That’s fine. I’ll have the New York strip, rare, and a Caesar salad. We’ll take potatoes au gratin and lobster macaroni and cheese for our sides. Oh, and an order of that magnificent bread pudding for dessert with the Frangelico sauce. Thank you.”

My eyes nearly pop from my head. That sounds like a billion calories. I shouldn’t even have one bite…but my mouth is already watering. Why is he tempting me?

As the exchange ends and Carson hands the menus over, I’ve got a precarious hold on my temper and my expression—and I only manage to compose myself because we have an audience. Somehow, I smile as the waiter reads our order back to us. After Carson’s approving nod, Shen backs away.

“That was high-handed,” I remark, forcing a pleasant expression.

“This is my show, sweetheart. My rules.” He pins my hand down to the table and gives it a squeeze. “You don’t need to lose weight, by the way.”

“Your opinion isn’t the only one that matters.”

“While you’re working for me, it is. I like every bit of you exactly the way you are. In fact, if it weren’t for our agreement and this table, I would be more than happy to come over there and show you precisely how much you turn me on. And for the record, casting directors who don’t agree with me are idiots. You’re beautiful.”

I sit back and blink. He really just said that. Sneaky bastard. It’s damn hard to be mad at a man when he’s dishing out compliments. I could maintain my irritation when I simply thought he wanted to exert his control and show me who’s boss. But he figured out why I was insistent, not to mention self-conscious, and flat-out told me he wants me. I don’t have a defense now.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t intend to get even. After all, if he’s feeding me scrumptious morsels that I’m going to spend hours in the gym working off, I’m going to give him a little torment in return.

“Am I?” I slip out of my shoe and slide my foot up and down his calf, sending him a come-hither stare that would do Marilyn Monroe proud.

With the wineglass halfway to his lips, he freezes. “Are you teasing me, Ella?”

I bat my lashes. “Why would I ever do a thing like that?”

“If you wanted a rise out of me”—he drags in a deep breath and glances down to his crotch—“you’ve got it.”

That should not make me happy. I shouldn’t care one bit whether his penis is saluting me. But I do. Why bother lying to myself? This man has big everything—feet, hands, jaw, chest. I’ll bet he’s big all over, and I have to repress a shiver just thinking about it.

Maybe I should stop toying with Carson, cease playing a dangerous game that can’t lead anywhere except to bed. Can I really take our supposedly pretend flirtation to places I said I wouldn’t go during our negotiation, then back away from the seemingly inevitable later?

Not really…but the responsible reply is not what comes out of my mouth.

“What if I don’t believe you?” I ask him in a breathy voice, then lick my bottom lip for good measure.

Carson never takes his eyes off me. Oh, his gaze follows my tongue, then dips down to the shadowy opening of my shirt. But he merely continues to caress a thumb over the back of my hand and leans back slightly. “You don’t want to take my word for it?”

I could but…suddenly, I know exactly how to make his torment so much worse. I slide my foot up his leg again, dragging my toe across his thigh. “No. I’m a girl who likes hard proof.” My taunt has barely left my mouth when I settle my sole over something so steely and massive I do a double take and stare at him as if I can’t comprehend what I feel. “Oh, my god. Seriously?”

He sends me another crooked smile as if he’s mighty pleased that he could shock me. “Every inch of that is for you, and if you don’t get your foot off of me now, I’m going to forget we have a bargain and that I’m a gentleman.”

His words and hot stare grip my insides and squeeze until I’m breathless. What do I do? Carson strikes me as the sort of man who means every word he says. If I’m not careful, I’ll find myself in over my head. After all, I’m sure he has far more experience than me.

That’s all true…and yet I can’t seem to resist teasing him.

“We’re in public with a table between us.” I wriggle my toes against his cock. “You can’t stop me.”

He sucks in a bracing breath, anchoring a fist on the gleaming wood. His knuckles turn white. “First, who says I want to stop you? Second, you should understand that if you continue, you’re opening yourself to merciless retribution the moment we’re alone.”

Promise? “That wasn’t in our agreement.”

“Neither was this.” He glances at my toes fluttering all over his cock.

I smile. “If it’s bothering you that much, I can stop.”

Carson unfolds his napkin, drops it over his lap, and seemingly smooths it with his hands. But beneath the cloth he grabs my ankle, which feels completely enveloped in his huge hands, and pulls me against his hard ridge. “If you move your foot an inch before I tell you to, I will torment the hell out of you before we leave this restaurant.”

I’m tempted to test him, just to see what he’ll really do. Of course it’s not smart, but I’m enjoying this way too much to stop now. “Oh? How will you do that?”

“I have a theory.” His hands tighten on my arch and heel before he slides my sole over his erection again, all but baring his teeth in pleasure at the friction. Then slowly, he skates his palm over the ball and up my toes before lifting his fingers away to wrap around his wineglass. He takes a gulp.

“What?”

“That little girls like you never think of all the underhanded ways a man like me can repay her for this kind of agony. But I could, quite simply. All I have to do is this.”

He crooks a finger and drops it under the table to drag it softly and slowly up my foot from heel to toe. He lingers over the arch, agitating the nerves there with a barely there scrape. I jolt at the sensation, trying to jerk my foot away and doing my best not to gape because Shaw’s friends are watching our every move.

“Carson, don’t,” I whisper. “I’m ticklish.”

“Then I guessed right.” And his smile looks smug.

“If you don’t quit, I’m going to giggle.” I’m already biting my lip to hold my startled laugh in. “We’re being watched as we speak.”

“You should have thought of that. Now you have to live with the consequences until dinner arrives. But that’s not the only one.”

Before I can protest, he changes tactics, gripping my foot and massaging it thoroughly—arch, ball, toes—up, then back down again until I’m melting. I like this better than his tickling. Way better.

My head falls back as my eyes close. It’s all I can do not to groan. “Oh, that’s really good.”

“And now every man in this room wants to know what I’m doing to put that look of pleasure on your face.”

He’s right, and I struggle to open my eyes and straighten out my expression, but he alternates by tickling and massaging my foot until I feel worked up and wrung out under his hands. I’m doing my best to fight back, pressing against his unflagging erection to disarm him. But he’s toying with me, only letting me skate over his massive length when he allows it. The rest of the time, he’s manipulating me—figuratively and literally.

I’m no match—at the moment.

“Give up?”

Maybe I should. But end this delicious game because I’m currently losing? “It’s not over yet.”

“I would have never guessed this, but I think you like living dangerously.”

I never imagined that to be true. I’m rethinking myself now. He makes me wild. He makes me dare to let the woman inside me free.

“You think you have me all figured out? Did you know I’m stubborn, too?” Into his silence, I nod. “Incredibly. If I can’t undo you with my toes”—I wiggle them for effect and work my way up to the head of his thick crest trying to poke out of his slacks, eliciting a low, gratifying groan—“then I’ll do my best to take you apart with my words.”

“Will you?”

I nod. “Want to know what I thought the first time I saw you? Kissing you, absolutely. But that’s the least of what went through my head. I wanted to climb your body, taking my clothes off as I made my way up and wrapped my legs around you. I wanted to drag my tongue up the tendons of your neck and kiss my way across your chest as I stripped off your shirt to see if you’re really as broad and muscled as you look. Then I wanted to tear off your pants and fall into your eyes as you thrust inside my body.”

I let the words hang there for a long moment, gratified by his harsh, audible breathing.

“My second thought was that you might be more man than I’m able to handle…but I wanted to try.”

“Do you still want to?”

I could be less than honest and end this verbal foreplay here, but why? “I’m desperate to.”

Carson doesn’t move for a long moment. Our waiter drops something off two tables away, then passes by. Suddenly, my boss/boyfriend snaps his fingers to get Shen’s attention.

“Yes, sir?” He keeps his dark eyes fixed on Carson’s face, but somehow I think he’s aware of what’s going on under the table. He’s probably seen it all and I doubt he misses much.

“I’d like the check and our food to go. We need to be out of here in five minutes.”

I repress a tremor. Oh, yeah. I’m getting to him.

The question is…what am I going to do about it?

If Carson’s request is unusual, Shen doesn’t show it. “Of course. I’ll have the kitchen pack up everything for you right away.”

The waiter disappears, and Carson tosses back the last of his wine, then pours us each more, finishing off the bottle. “If you’re so inclined, drink fast. We’re leaving ASAP.”

“Already?”

He sends me a smile that could singe me alive. “You started this, so you’re going to pay the consequence.”

Oh, goody. “I’m not worried.”

“That’s your first mistake, Ella. But I’m glad to hear it. That will make the moans and screams of surrender I wring from you when we get to my place even sweeter.”

I drag my foot across his crotch one more time just to make sure I have his attention. Yep. I do. No doubt. He’s still as big and hard as ever. I’m baiting the sexy bear. I might regret this later. Right now, I don’t care one whit.

Lifting my lips into a smile, I flirt his way. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. Shouldn’t we focus on that?”

“Oh, we will,” he vows, pressing his thumbs into the tight arch of my foot before working his way up my calf. “By morning, I’m hoping we know each other really fucking well.”

My heart kicks into high gear. My entire body tenses. None of this is logical or even helpful to the cause, but the devil on my shoulder—the one that insists this man is way too delicious to pass up for a two-week fling—says that always being the dutiful good girl is both boring and overrated. If Carson Frost wants to take me to bed, smart or not, I’m going to let him curl my toes and unravel my body.

“Here you are, sir.” Shen hands Carson the check, then sets down several bags emblazoned with the steakhouse’s name and logo.

Heat emanates from them, and the aromas make my mouth water. I can’t even remember the last time I indulged in red meat and cheesy potatoes. Everything smells magnificent. But my aching pussy has an agenda all its own: letting Carson do his worst to me—fast.

“Thanks.” He slaps his napkin on the table, regretfully releases my foot, and reaches into his wallet to withdraw his credit card. “There’s an extra ten percent for you if you’re able to close my tab out in under two minutes.”

Shen smiles. “Of course, sir.”

“Excellent.” Carson watches the waiter hustle away, then stands, buttoning his coat over his erection while giving a subtle glance to Gregory Shaw’s watchful pals. “That gives me at least a minute to kiss the hell out of you. Stand up, Ella.”

As I wedge my foot back into my shoe, my stomach knots into a tight ball. As uncomfortable as that is, it’s got nothing on the ache throbbing between my legs as I wobble upright and rest my palm on the back of the booth so I can find balance. I drag in a steadying breath.

Carson doesn’t bother with pretty words or preamble. He grabs me around the waist and aligns our bodies. He’s so close, I feel the press of every rigid inch of him. I look my way up the long line of his muscled torso until our stares collide. His piercing blue eyes steal my breath. Maybe that sounds cheesy, but I have never met a man who can unwind all my thoughts and resistance so quickly and with so little effort.

He winds his free hand around my nape and positions my face under his—exactly where he wants it. As he swoops down toward me, the restaurant fades away. My ears hear only my own frantic heartbeat and his rough breaths. My blood sizzles. My thoughts race. I’m no longer aware of the air-conditioned breeze chilling my skin or the group of gossipy men watching us. I’m zeroed in on Carson Frost and feeling his mouth cover mine.

“Want to stop me?” he murmurs as his lips hover just over mine.

I don’t think at all about my reply. “No.”

“Then give me your mouth, Ella. Don’t hold anything back. I’m not going to.”

That’s all the warning I get before he wraps his fingers in my hair and takes possession. He nudges my lips open and steals inside as if he has every right to be there. Then he thrusts in to sample my depths, mingle our breaths…and steal my soul.

I lift myself on tiptoes to allow him deeper access. I grab his lapels to steady myself. And I rub against him. His kiss is everything I suspected—demanding, powerful, arousing on a level I’ve never experienced. I’m dizzy. I’m delirious. I’m loving it.

I don’t want to think about the future.

I know this is a job, and I shouldn’t be so hot to go to bed with the man who’s hired me. This is a line I never thought I would cross with any employer, for any role.

Carson—and the way he touches me—robs me of my ability to refuse him anything.

I moan into his mouth. He grabs my dress in his fist and tries futilely to pull me closer still. The thought that whatever happens with this man between the sheets is going to surpass everything I’ve ever felt and ruin me for any other man streaks across my brain. Even that doesn’t stop me from tossing myself headlong into this staggering passion.

I want him now.

Nearby, a man clears his throat. Carson lifts his head and snaps around to the sound. I blink in the general direction of the intrusion, hazy and off-balance and deeply resentful that I no longer have his lips on mine.

Shen is standing there, leather billfold in hand. “I apologize for interrupting. You indicated time was of the essence.”

“Absolutely. Thank you.” Carson grabs his credit card, dashes the pen over the slip of paper, then shoves it back at Shen as he lifts both big bags with one sweep of his long fingers. He clutches my hand with the other and gives me a stare that assures me I’m about to experience pleasure like I’ve never imagined.

I yank him toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Carson sends me a sharp nod, and we’re off. I spare one last glance for his rival’s upper-crust friends. They’re staring at us as they fiddle with their phones. “I think one of those suits may have snapped a picture of us kissing and sent it to Shaw.”

“Great.” He reaches around me and shoves the door open. His voice sounds as if he couldn’t give a damn what his competitor’s cronies might have done. He merely wants to be away from this restaurant and find someplace private so he can finish dismantling what’s left of my defenses. He wants to conquer me. Heaven help me, I want to let him.

This is so not what I planned on happening when I boarded the plane at quarter before ten this morning in sunny Los Angeles. But this is so much better.

As we exit the restaurant, the evening humidity envelops me. Since I’m a West Coast girl, I’m not used to that. Traffic noise on the road nearby and the faint song of cicadas competes with the sound of Carson’s rapid footsteps eating up the blacktop and the gong of my racing heart. When we reach the car, he unlocks it, slides the food into the backseat, then slams the door. Then he pins me against his sleek black vehicle. His wide palms cover the space around me. He sucks away all the available air between us simply by being.

“Carson…”

“Are you protesting now that we’re alone?”

“No.” I assure with a shake of my head. “I was going to tell you to hurry up.”

“I intend to.” He grimaces as if he’s reluctant to admit what he’s going to say next. “But I can’t not taste your mouth right now.”

I don’t even have time to gasp before he seizes my lips again, forcing his way inside my mouth and sweeping every inch. His breath is harsh, his kiss reckless. But his touch skimming down my body is so gentle that I sigh into him and work my arms around his neck to pull him closer.

We kiss forever, it seems. Every time I think he’s going to back off and drive us out of this parking lot, away from the cars honking at our PDA, he fuses our lips together again and delves even deeper than before. I don’t merely melt against him this time, I become one with him, remolded to him by the heat of our bodies and our growing need.

Finally, he wrenches away with a curse, raking his hand through his hair. “If we don’t leave now, I’ll do something to you right here that we could get arrested for.”

I wipe away the traces of my lipstick from his mouth as he opens my car door and ushers me into my seat. A moment later, he’s tossing himself into the vehicle beside me, revving the engine, and peeling out onto the street. The aroma of dinner fills the car, but that’s not the hunger twisting me up inside.

“How long until we reach your place?” I murmur, dropping a hand on his thigh.

For some reason, I can’t bring myself to stop touching this man.

He grimaces. “Usually ten minutes. I’ll try to make it in five.”

The last of the rush-hour traffic seems to be clearing out, so I’m hopeful he can make that happen.

“Once we hit the door, everything you’re wearing better evaporate quickly or I’ll rip it off your body. Do you hear me, Ella? Unless you’re saying no. If you intend to stop me, now’s the time, sweetheart.”

It’s awesome that he keeps trying to give me an out. He wants full consent, and I respect that. I should probably take the exit he’s repeatedly offered me. It would be smarter.

But when it comes to Carson Frost, I’m losing IQ points by the minute.

“I could say the same to you.”

“What do you mean?” He sends me a sharp stare.

“When we get behind your closed door, those clothes better come off fast, mister.”

Despite the arousal pouring off his big body, a faint smile creases his lips. “You’re an unpredictable woman.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

As he speeds toward his place, I’m looking for something to focus on besides how badly I want him. If I don’t distract myself, I’ll likely speak or act in some way to put a dent in his focus and compromise our safety.

Thankfully, Carson fills the void. “In case we don’t come up for air again until we meet Shaw and his daughter on Friday night, my middle name is Alexander. I was born in Northridge. I graduated from Reseda High School, did my undergrad at UC Irvine, and got my MBA from USC. Give me your details.”

I watch him steer the speeding car steadily and wonder how he’s managing it. I don’t think I can retain a word of what he said. I’m not even sure I can spit out my own personal information. All I can think about is how amazing it will feel when I have this man’s naked body pressing into mine. Did he say we wouldn’t come up for air for two days?

“Um… My middle name is Cooper. It’s a family name. I-I was born in Simi Valley. I went to Simi Valley High. Go Pioneers…” The stupid joke slips off my tongue. “And I graduated from UCLA. How much longer before we can get naked?”

The car lurches forward as he steps on the gas a bit harder. “I’m trying to get there as fast as I can and still stay in one piece. Are you really ready for what’s about to happen?”

If I don’t have this man inside me soon, I’ll freaking fall apart.

“Absolutely.”