“That’s next. Then there’s Mom. She can’t decide if she’s more distraught that Cindy is pregnant without, as she puts it, ‘benefit of clergy,’ or by the fact that she’s going to be a grandmother, which she claims she’s far too young to be. She calls several times a day to discuss either the wedding or the baby. When she isn’t talking about one of those things, she’s playing matchmaker, trying to set me up with every single man she can find.” Kayla blew out a huff of laughter. “Between the three of them calling me constantly, it’s like I’m caught in a Bermuda triangle of telephone agony.”
“No offense, but it sounds like you’re the only sane one in the family.”
“Only on days when I don’t answer my phone-which is becoming more and more frequent.”
“Where does your father fit in?”
She paused for several seconds, then said, “He doesn’t. He died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. He was a great dad.”
He nodded back toward the magazine. “Well, that explains about marriage and family.”
“Friendships, too. Believe me, remaining friends with my family has been challenging lately.”
“What about career?”
She hesitated, not certain how to explain without slipping up and giving away too much. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am in my company, and I’ve always enjoyed my work. But lately, I’ve become…disenchanted with many of the people I’m working with. I’ve found them shallow and lacking in character.” Again she hesitated, then added softly, “It’s made me wonder if perhaps some of that hasn’t rubbed off on me.”
“You don’t seem shallow to me.”
“Says a man who’s known me all of two hours.”
His fingers lightly brushed over hers, the feathery touch pulsing heat up her arm. “True, but I’d be willing to bet that I’d say the same thing two hours from now.” He studied her for several seconds, his expression serious. “But I know what you mean. When you find yourself surrounded by superficial people, it’s easy to fall into that trap. To lose sight of yourself. And your goals.”
She nodded, surprised that he’d hit it so precisely. “Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“But your strength of character shows in that you recognize yourself falling. And you’re taking steps to change direction, to get back to where you want to be. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for taking a slight detour.”
“This sounds like the voice of experience talking.”
A slight frown creased between his brows. “I guess it is.” His thumbs brushed slowly over the backs of her hands, a hypnotic gesture that lulled her into a pleasure-filled trance. “So that leaves love and sex,” he murmured. “Surely you have men begging for your company.”
“You know, you’re extremely good for my ego.”
“Just calling it like I see it. Bad breakup?”
“You can’t have a breakup unless you have a relationship, and my last one of those ended six months ago after I discovered we held polar opposite views regarding monogamy.”
“What’s your view?”
“At the point we were in our relationship, I felt it was essential. He was equally adamant it was optional. He claimed he loved me, but didn’t love
“How can a guy cheat after only one date?”
“He cheated
He winced. “Ouch. That’s really low. Makes me embarrassed to belong to the same gender as someone who would do that.”
She forced her attention from the magic his long, strong fingers were wreaking on her hand and wondered if he was sincere. He certainly sounded as if he meant it. “Definitely ranks as one of my worst first dates.”
“
“Is this a date?” She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his answer.
“A nice restaurant, a cozy, private alcove all to ourselves, a beautiful woman…feels like a date to me.”
Yes, it did. And she wasn’t really certain how she felt about that. Certainly it was unexpected. As was his effect on her. The last time a man had made her feel like this…like she’d been struck by lightning, was…never. “Well, this is definitely an improvement on the date with the guy who boffed the waitress in the bathroom,” she said lightly.
“Thanks, but that isn’t a high benchmark to exceed.”
“True. But if you claim to need the restroom, I’ll be mighty suspicious.”
“Not to worry. You have my full and undivided attention. Where are you meeting these losers?”
“Losers? Oh, no, my friend. They’re the best Manhattan has to offer.”
“Present company excluded, I hope.” He turned over her hand and traced his fingertip slowly around her palm, shooting fiery tingles up her arm and evaporating her concentration.
She had to swallow to find her voice. “Um, yeah. So far you’re way ahead of the Bathroom Banger.” And suddenly the thought of a hot, sweaty bang in the bathroom sounded really, really good. And far too tempting. And not her usual style. Certainly not with a man she’d just met.
Hmmm…very true. Even though they hadn’t met, Brett Thornton had been on her radar screen for the past four months. She had an entire file on him, filled with scientific articles he’d written-the technical aspects of which had glazed her eyes-and information about his education and professional life, but little regarding his personal life. Up until now she hadn’t cared to know.
But that was before she’d discovered that he could make her entire body flush hot with a single look. A single touch. It was definitely time to know more about this man whom she was envisioning naked-and liking what she saw. And to find out if her touch affected him as strongly as his did her.
“I’ve kept up my end of the bargain,” she said, slipping her hand from beneath his. “Now it’s your turn. What in your life is out of balance?”
Brett carefully considered before answering, surprised by his strong urge to tell her the entire story. He’d come all the way to freakin’ Peru to partake in an extreme adventure, one he hoped would exorcise the poison of the last few months. He sure as hell hadn’t come here thinking he’d be anxious to talk to a stranger about what a mess his life had become. Then again, he hadn’t thought he’d be anxious to begin an affair, most especially not with just the sort of woman he’d sworn to himself to avoid-one who had Fifth Avenue written all over her-but here he was, hot, bothered and aching.
He was about to speak when she settled her hand on his leg, just above his knee. His heart ricocheted for a few beats, pumping heat through him. When she’d said it was “his turn,” she’d obviously meant in more ways than one.
After taking a long swallow of water, he looked pointedly down at where her palm rested on his bare knee then said, “God knows I’m game, but I feel it only fair to warn you that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to remain focused.”
Mischief danced in her eyes and her fingertips skimmed down his shin. “Turnabout is only fair.”
“I only touched your hand. So you’ll owe me.”
Her eyes darkened in a way that let him know she wasn’t averse to paying up, and what felt like half the blood in his body rushed to his groin. He shifted to relieve the ache and stretched out his leg to offer her freer access. And hoped he wouldn’t forget how to speak English.
“Ever hear of that expression ‘be careful what you wish for because you may just get it?’” he asked.
She smiled and circled her fingertips behind his knee. Holy crap. She’d barely touched him and he felt as if he were about to spontaneously combust. “Of course,” she said in a smoky voice. “I’m hoping it will apply to me and winning the lottery.”
With an effort, he shook his head. “Just trust me…you don’t want to say those words out loud.”
“Hmmm…I’ve found that when people say ‘just trust me’ I probably shouldn’t. Are you saying you won the
