Why Not Tonight?

Financially secure. Just the sort to attract a woman or two. So what’s the problem?”

“No problem. Just taking a night off from the usual bachelor frivolity to help out a friend.” Right. No problem. Except I haven’t been able to think of anyone except you for the past week.

And it suddenly occurred to him that she’d been in his thoughts for a lot longer than the past week. She’d always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, and he’d compared every woman who’d come after her with the standard she’d set. As of yet, no one had surpassed it. If he was brutally honest, no one had even come close.

Shaking off that disturbing realization, he said, “So tell me, how did you and…what’s his name?”

“Greg.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“He’s an attorney. We met at a house closing.”

“How long ago?”

“Eight months.”

“Is it serious?” He congratulated himself on his light tone, which was in such total contrast to the inexplicable tensing of his every muscle while he waited for her reply.

She tapped the corner of her mouth with her napkin, pushed her empty plate to the side, then reached for the manila envelope. “I’ll let you know after he sees these,” she said with a teasing wink.

What the hell kind of answer was that? Surely if they were serious, she’d have just said yes. Yet, he couldn’t see her posing for such sensual photos for a man she didn’t have deep feelings for. Still…she hadn’t said yes, they were serious.

A flicker of something that felt suspiciously like hope flared to life in his chest, a tiny flame that he could neither blow out nor ignore. What was he-insane? He didn’t want her to be available. If she was available, that would totally screw up his travel plans. Again.

Wouldn’t it?

Hell, yeah.

Hell, no.

Why would it? If she was available, they could have a fling. She is not a fling sort of woman, his inner voice said. Totally true. Mallory was a forever sort of woman.

Which would be crappy timing because he was not currently a forever sort of guy. No, sir. Not him. He was footloose, worry free, Bachelor Number One, on his way to Europe for his dream vacation. She craved stability and for the next three months he’d be living out of a suitcase. Hell, in six months he wouldn’t have a place to live. For all he knew, he might very well be running a tiki bar in Hawaii. So yeah, it was good she had a boyfriend. Yup, sure was. So he just needed to put all these crazy thoughts out of his head. Now.

Forcing himself to remain silent so as not to bombard her with more questions about her relationship, Adam ate his last onion ring and watched her look over the proofs, noting the flush that crept up her face. He tried to recall the last time he’d seen a woman blush and realized it was exactly one week ago. While he’d taken Mallory’s pictures.

The urge to reach out and brush his fingers over that enticing wash of color gripped him, and he wrapped his hands around his frosty shake glass to keep from doing so. Unfortunately the chill did nothing to cool the heat nipping at him.

After taking a long, cold, chocolaty sip, he said, “You’re blushing.”

A self-conscious-sounding laugh escaped her. “It’s just kind of embarrassing that you’ve seen me in my lingerie.”

Mallory in her lingerie… Good God, he wasn’t going to survive this. He unobtrusively shifted to lessen the growing discomfort in his Levi’s. “At the risk of sounding crass, which is certainly not my intention, I’ve, um, seen you in less.” And damn it, the image those words brought to mind did nothing to lessen his discomfort.

Her blush deepened. “Right-almost a decade ago. While we were…”

“Sleeping together?” some devil inside him made him say when she seemed at a loss for words.

“As I recall, sleep had little to do with it.”

Touche. Damn, he felt as if he’d backed into a blowtorch. “Very little,” he agreed, his voice tight.

“Well, that was a long time ago. This is different. And in these pictures, I look so…”

“Sexy?”

Her gaze shot up to his. “You think so?”

He mentally shook his head at the genuine questioning confusion in her eyes. “Hell, yes. Don’t you?”

“Well…yeah, I suppose. I’m just not used to seeing myself this way.”

“Believe me, Mallory, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She studied the photos for several more seconds, then said, “You did a really good job.”

“Thanks. But it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the subject matter. I blew up the three I thought were the best into eight-by-tens. My favorite’s the last one.”

She looked at the prints, staring the longest at the last one, then raised her gaze to his. “Why do you like this one the best?”

Because when I took it, I fantasized that you were thinking of me. Remembering me. Us. How good we were together. Because I was remembering you. “I think it really captures you. Your many facets. I like your expression, the contrasts it shows. You look seductive, yet shy. Tempting, playful, yet there’s an air of innocence. I like the way your eyes are looking right into the camera. The way you seem to be saying, ‘I want you more than Hershey’s Kisses’-is that still your favorite candy, by the way?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be forever loyal to my Kisses.”

Eye on the ball, dude-don’t think about kisses. He nodded. “As I was saying, ‘I want you more than Hershey’s Kisses.’ Believe me, it’s a look that any guy would give a lot to inspire.” Me, for example.

The thought ambushed him and he had to clear his throat to locate his voice. “And the way your lips are slightly parted, just enough to issue an invitation, but not too much. You look great in all the pictures, but speaking as a guy, that one is guaranteed to knock his socks off.” It sure as hell knocked off mine.

She looked back down at the print and frowned. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured.

Adam’s eyebrows shot up at her softly spoken words, words that, based on her faraway expression, he wasn’t sure she even realized she’d said. Christ, if one look at that photo of her didn’t give George, or Greg, or whatever the hell his name was, an instant hard-on, the guy needed to check his pulse.

But her murmured words… Was it possible that all wasn’t perfect between her and what’s-his-name? If there was trouble in paradise… He pulled in a slow breath, and even though he fought it, a bit more kindling was tossed onto that internal fire, burning bright within him that-which-suspiciously-felt-like…

Hope.

She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I need to get going.” She looked beyond him, over his shoulder, clearly looking for their waitress.

Disappointment washed through him, a fact that annoyed him. It was definitely time for this torturous stroll down memory lane to end. “You can go,” he said. “I’ve got the check.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. For old times’ sake. Besides, I have to stick around and order something to-go for Nick.”

“All right. Thank you.” She slid toward the edge of the vinyl booth. “Lunch was delicious.”

He rose then patted his stomach. “Sure was.” He nodded toward the envelope. “Let us know which of the proofs you want made into prints.”

“I will.” She stood, looking a bit uncertain, as if she didn’t know whether to shake his hand or kiss his cheek or what. He helped her out by leaning forward and brushing his lips lightly against her smooth cheek. For a brief second, his eyes involuntarily closed. God, she smelled incredible. Like flowers in sunshine. He felt her lips touch his cheek, then she stepped back. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You, too.” Really nice. Far too nice. Which meant that he needed to let her just walk out the door. But that stupid flame still burned, so instead he found himself saying lightly, “Maybe we can manage not to lose touch this