“But you will.”

“I have to. Anyway, I decided to work off the upset by cleaning up my mess. I made a bigger one first, but with the goal of decluttering and restructuring. Which became symbolic for tossing out old habits and mind-sets. So . . .”

She broke off as she turned with another armload and caught sight of herself in the mirror. “Oh Jesus, Jesus, I look like I escaped from the institution for the terminally sloppy and unkempt. Couldn’t you have told me my hair looked like a couple of cats fought in it?”

“I like your hair.”

She raked her fingers through it. “You know, this is just one more world of irritating. I looked really good the night I came by your place. Those MAC girls know their stuff. Plus I sprang for La Perla, and I was wearing it. My credit card had a minor stroke, but now that we landed the Seaman job, it’ll recover nicely. Still, I—”

“You got the job?” He picked her off her feet, gave her a quick spin. “That’s—damn it.”

“Almost the reaction I might’ve expected.”

“I bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate with you when you got the job. I didn’t bring it with me.”

“You bought champagne to celebrate with me.” She could all but feel her pupils take the shape of hearts as she stared at him. “You’re the sweetest man.”

“We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

“Event tomorrow night.”

“First chance then. Congratulations. This is major.”

“Majorly major, to be redundant about it. Event of the year, and it’s going to test all our skills, push us to develop new ones.”

“You must . . . What’s La Perla?”

Her smile spread slowly. “Ah, so two sisters and a mother haven’t taught you everything about the female. You still have a few things to learn, Professor. Go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to go downstairs.” He lowered his head to nibble at her lips. “I’ve missed you. Missed your face. Missed touching you. Look how we cleaned a spot off the bed. It looks just big enough.”

“Downstairs.” She pressed a finger at his chest, pushed him back. “I’ll tell you when to come back up. You’ll thank me.”

“Why don’t I just thank you now and—”

“Out.”

She gave him a shove.

He paced the studio, studied her photographs, poked at bridal magazines. He wondered what the term was for what was running around inside him, this intense joy and ragged impatience. Mackensie was upstairs, and that was wonderful. Mackensie was upstairs, and he wasn’t. That was making him crazy.

He wandered to the door to make sure it was locked, wondering if he should take up the wine. He didn’t want any, but she—

“Why don’t you come on up?”

Thank God, he thought, and left the wine where it was.

He saw from the shadows and flickering light that she’d lit candles. The faintest scent drifted through the air, alluringly. He should have brought the wine, he realized.

Then, when he stepped into the bedroom, his heart stopped.

In the shifting shadows, the golden light, in the drifting scent she lay on the bed, turned toward him, her head propped on her elbow. She’d done something to her hair, something sleek, and darkened her lips and eyes to exotic. And on her long, lovely body were wisps and whirls of tiny black lace.

“This,” she said, sweeping her free hand along her side, “is La Perla.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She crooked a finger. “Why don’t you come over here and take a closer look.”

He walked to her. “You take my breath away.”

He sat, ran his hand over her side, cruising the curves. “You were wearing this the other night?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“If I’d known, you’d never have made it to the car.”

“Really? Why don’t you demonstrate what you’d have done, had you but known.”

He leaned down, touched his lips to hers for one shimmering moment. Then devoured. Instant need, wild and wicked urgency lashed him, whipping for speed. He swallowed her muffled gasp and demanded more.

Arousal, longing, love rampaged inside him, snarling into a desperate greed for her mouth under his, her body under his. The taste of her, just the first taste, sparked the fire in the blood.

While his mouth conquered, his hands plundered.

Her body exploded under his, arching, writhing as she dragged at his shirt. She pulled it up, nails scraping flesh in her rush, and over his head to heave it away. She rolled with him, her breath sobbing as they wrapped together, as they sought each other. Sought darker, deeper pleasure that slicked the skin, racked the heart.

Touch, taste, possess.

To be wanted like this, needed like this—to want and need in return—seemed impossible to her. It was like being burned alive, feeling every inch, to be aware of every inch of her body while it blazed. While he consumed.

He rolled her over on her back, jerked her hips up. And drove himself into her. She couldn’t find the breath to scream.

Stunned, staggered, helpless, she flailed for purchase, and her hands clutched the tangled sheets as she might a lifeline. His clamped over them, wrenched her arms over her head. He plunged into her, again, again. A hard, primal beat that propelled them both to the edge, and over.

When he collapsed on her, their hands remained clasped. While the candlelight flickered over the damp tangle of them, he turned his head. And gave her a kiss of exquisite tenderness.

She lay as she was, steeped in a kind of wonder.

“I was rough,” he murmured. “Did I—”

“You know what?” she interrupted, smiling in the flickering dark. “I’m going back to Nordstrom. I’m going to buy out their entire stock of La Perla. Whatever they’ve got in my size will be mine. I’m never wearing anything else.”

“While you’re out, maybe you could pick up some vitamins. A whole lot of vitamins. And minerals.”

She laughed, rolling to her side as he rolled to his, so they were nose to nose. “You have such quiet eyes. No one would ever know you’re an animal in bed.”

“You have this body that makes me want it. Are you cold?”

“Not now, possibly never again. Can you stay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I owe you some scrambled eggs.”