bites with his tongue. “The man who wants to drive you out of your mind tonight beneath these stars. Go crazy for me, show me everything. Let it all go.” His fingers eased in, then pulled out, while his thumb worked magic on the spot designed for his touch. In and out. More thumb. In and out.

The anticipation came from so deep down that she didn’t know how to turn away from it. Desperation had her gripping his wrist, holding him in place, even though he crooned softly in her ear, wordless little murmurs that promised he was staying where he was.

“Emma.” His thumb circled again, and she whimpered an inarticulate answer. “Come for me…”

It started in her toes, the shudder that ripped through her, the cry that tore through her lungs and burst out of her as she did just that.

She lost some time then, maybe a moment, maybe more, as she drifted slowly back to her senses. She heard him tear open a condom and forced her eyes open, just in time to watch him roll it down the length of him. There was something incredibly sensual about seeing his hands on himself, and then even more when he sank into her.

“Oh,” she breathed in wonder as her body began to tighten again. “Rafe…”

“Yeah. Again,” he demanded, eyes narrowed, face fierce with concentration as he began to move.

She left her eyes open, though it was a struggle, watched his emotions chase one another across his face as he pistoned his hips against hers, taking her to a place she’d never been before, to a place she’d never known existed.

EMMA DRIFTED AWAKE to find herself cradled against Rafe’s warm body, the cool night air drifting over them, his fingers lightly stroking her arm.

“Hmm,” she sighed. Then her eyes flew wide open and she sat all the way up. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Only for a moment.” He sat up and swept a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re tired.”

Extremely. She’d been working too hard, and thinking even harder, so sleep had been difficult, but-

“Come back to my house with me,” he said. “We can just go to sleep or watch a late movie, whatever you want to do.”

Go back to his place…That would be lovely. If she hadn’t promised to have her pages done. “I’m sorry, but-”

“But you have work.”

“Only a bit.”

For a few moments he lay there looking up at her. Then in one fluid motion he got to his feet. He was still shirtless, and his temper was all the more magnificent for it.

“That’s all right, Emma. You go back to your work.”

“I will,” she said quietly. “But I’ll be done by-”

He lifted a hand. “No explanation required. I don’t need an excuse.”

“I’m not trying to excuse anything,” she said tightly. “I’m just trying to tell you I can come back.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get that you live for your work. I get it loud and clear. So go on, go back to it, go back to your boring, workaholic life.”

She could only stare at him, at a complete loss in the face of his anger.

“Go on,” he said, and he waggled his fingers for her to go.

Well, damn him, anyway. Maybe she was a workaholic, but she sure as hell didn’t need him to throw it in her face. To make it sound like it was awful and horrible and…boring.

“Goodbye, Rafe.”

He turned away, shoved his hands in his pockets.

And without another word, she walked away.

20

AFTER THAT NIGHT, Emma worked like a demon. The studio didn’t protest, they loved it. Two weeks into her mad-woman writing schedule, they gave her a bonus and offered to renegotiate her contract, saying the pages she’d been giving them were her best ever. Emmy-award winning, they all vowed.

She read between the lines with the best of them. They wanted to guarantee that she kept up the pace yet didn’t get lured away by another show.

But after another week of the grueling schedule, with her eyes perpetually red and strained, her body falling apart, her nails chewed down to the nubs, she wondered what it was about her that she found it so impossible to change.

She’d wanted something different, something more. Even Amber had managed to get that something more. In addition to her new TV pilot, she had a man in her life, a real man.

Emma sighed. What made that all so hard for her?

She had one meeting left for the day. The studio was going to hire another junior writer and, as part of the interview process, wannabe scribes would come in one at a time and pitch their ideas.

After that, she could go home to bed.

Grabbing a large coffee for the meeting, which promised to be long and excruciating, she glanced at her reflection in the glass. Her hair was piled on top of her head and held there precariously with two pencils. She wore leggings and a large T-shirt. Amber wouldn’t have been caught dead looking like this.

She looked about as different from the model she’d pretended to be as she could get.

Entering the conference room, she slouched down in a chair, thinking no one outside this place would recognize her, not her sister, not Rafe-

Nope, she thought as her heart constricted without permission, I’m not going to go there. To make sure she didn’t, she dove into the tray of cookies in the middle of the conference table. Boring? Is that what he’d said her life was? Ha! This wasn’t boring. She grabbed another cookie.

Chocolate always had been able to solve everything. Today she was going to put it to the test.

“YOU’RE…WHAT?” Stone stared at Rafe in disbelief. He’d just shown up at Rafe’s house, wearing a damn shit-eating grin that assured Rafe his best friend had been getting lucky on a regular basis.

He intended to get lucky himself. He hadn’t slept well for weeks, until last night. “I’m going after her.”

“You’re going after her.” Stone blinked. “Emma? Hollywood writer, workaholic Emma?”

“Yep.” He stepped outside, pulled Stone out as well, and locked his front door.

Stone, mouth hanging open, watched Rafe walk past him toward his car. “You’re going to get Emma.”

“You’re sounding a bit like a parrot.”

“But…” Stone looked confused. “I thought she wasn’t the one.”

“I was wrong.”

“So what are you going to do, kidnap her from work?”

“I’m going to try something new.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to tell her how I feel.”

“Oh.” Stone thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “It was a new technique for me, as well.”

“And it worked for you,” Rafe pointed out.

“It sure did.”

“Then, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to need it,” Stone added.

THEY’D HEARD SO MANY PITCHES, Emma’s head was going to explode. No one writer had stood out, and they were beginning to think the entire process was going to be a wash.

Emma still sat at the conference table. Her mug had been filled over and over and, as a result, she felt jittery. Maybe it had been the cookies and caffeine and no lunch, but her head hurt and she wanted a nap.

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