it unwind, restless and annoyed. “I barely know him. But there’s an attraction between us, and a couple of nights ago, we sort of…” She sighed. “I don’t even want to tell you now. You’re supposed to be my friend, not my judge. You make me feel like I’m jumping in headfirst.” “I am your friend, and you are jumping in headfirst. I was married to you, Katie. I know. You’re a passionate girl. Hell, it took me an entire month to get a goodnight kiss out of you, and after that, bam!
\We had sex every night for a year.”
“A lot of good that did,” she muttered, feeling cheeky. “Harry obviously had something I didn’t.”
“Yes, and it was all anatomical.” The dryness left Mike’s tone. “What I’m saying is, this guy you’re working for must really be something if you’ve already kissed him, and I’m just reminding you what happens when you let down your guard. You explode.” `“I do not!” She rose from the edge of the bed and caught sight of her reflection in the gilded mirror over the dresser. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wispy and soft. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t douse the delicious ache simmering low in her belly. Not even bringing herself to orgasm with soapy fingers in the shower that morning had relieved the relentless pressure.
She plopped down on the edge of the bed again. “Mike, save me. I have no control when it comes to this man. You’re right. I need pacing. I need you to provide it. Will you please drive out next weekend?” “You want me to drop everything and drive out into the sticks to save you from yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“I have tickets to see Aida in DC.”
She sighed. “Fine. Okay. I understand that opera is far more important than I am.”
“How about the weekend after that?”
The idea brightened her a little. “I should probably run it by Gideon first, make sure he doesn’t mind if I invite a guest.”
“Good God. His name’s Gideon?”
“That’s right. Gideon Renaud.”
“Sounds dark and sexy. Right up your alley.”
“Right up any woman’s alley.” Kate glanced at the clock. It was time for her to find Jude and check his reading journal. He’d been dragging his heels with the writing assignments, and she intended to remain firm, no matter how many long-lashed, pleading looks he gave her. No matter how much he talked, smiled and acted like his father. “I have to go, Mike. I’ll let you know about the visiting thing.” “Okay, honey. Harden your resolve—and that’s the only thing around there you should be working to harden.”
Kate groaned. “Enough already. I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up the phone and glanced out the French doors, which she’d opened to welcome the early summer breeze and the scent of freshly cut grass.
Male voices floated to her ears. She stepped out on the balcony and glanced down to see Gideon standing on the lawn below, a few feet from the brick terrace, talking to two dark-complexioned men in baseball caps. He’d obviously just returned from the conference he’d attended for the past couple of days, leather duffel in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He wore a maroon Harvard sweatshirt in the unseasonably cool evening, and the sexiest pair of faded jeans she’d ever seen on a man. Everything about him was appealing, even the way he stood, relaxed, broad-shouldered, gesturing toward the line of tangled brush that hugged the far edge of the yard.
She stepped closer to the rail and realized with surprise that he was speaking a foreign language with the gardeners. Spanish? No. Portuguese, perhaps. There was so much about him she didn’t know, that she wanted to explore and absorb…at great risk, according to her common sense.
As though sensing her presence, he glanced up, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and smiled at her.
Kate brushed aside a strand of light brown hair blown by the breeze and smiled back, too transfixed to step away
\We had sex every night for a year.”
“A lot of good that did,” she muttered, feeling cheeky. “Harry obviously had something I didn’t.”
“Yes, and it was all anatomical.” The dryness left Mike’s tone. “What I’m saying is, this guy you’re working for must really be something if you’ve already kissed him, and I’m just reminding you what happens when you let down your guard. You explode.” `“I do not!” She rose from the edge of the bed and caught sight of her reflection in the gilded mirror over the dresser. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wispy and soft. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t douse the delicious ache simmering low in her belly. Not even bringing herself to orgasm with soapy fingers in the shower that morning had relieved the relentless pressure.
She plopped down on the edge of the bed again. “Mike, save me. I have no control when it comes to this man. You’re right. I need pacing. I need you to provide it. Will you please drive out next weekend?” “You want me to drop everything and drive out into the sticks to save you from yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“I have tickets to see Aida in DC.”
She sighed. “Fine. Okay. I understand that opera is far more important than I am.”
“How about the weekend after that?”
The idea brightened her a little. “I should probably run it by Gideon first, make sure he doesn’t mind if I invite a guest.”
“Good God. His name’s Gideon?”
“That’s right. Gideon Renaud.”
“Sounds dark and sexy. Right up your alley.”
“Right up any woman’s alley.” Kate glanced at the clock. It was time for her to find Jude and check his reading journal. He’d been dragging his heels with the writing assignments, and she intended to remain firm, no matter how many long-lashed, pleading looks he gave her. No matter how much he talked, smiled and acted like his father. “I have to go, Mike. I’ll let you know about the visiting thing.” “Okay, honey. Harden your resolve—and that’s the only thing around there you should be working to harden.”
Kate groaned. “Enough already. I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up the phone and glanced out the French doors, which she’d opened to welcome the early summer breeze and the scent of freshly cut grass.
Male voices floated to her ears. She stepped out on the balcony and glanced down to see Gideon standing on the lawn below, a few feet from the brick terrace, talking to two dark-complexioned men in baseball caps. He’d obviously just returned from the conference he’d attended for the past couple of days, leather duffel in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He wore a maroon Harvard sweatshirt in the unseasonably cool evening, and the sexiest pair of faded jeans she’d ever seen on a man. Everything about him was appealing, even the way he stood, relaxed, broad-shouldered, gesturing toward the line of tangled brush that hugged the far edge of the yard.
She stepped closer to the rail and realized with surprise that he was speaking a foreign language with the gardeners. Spanish? No. Portuguese, perhaps. There was so much about him she didn’t know, that she wanted to explore and absorb…at great risk, according to her common sense.
As though sensing her presence, he glanced up, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and smiled at her.
Kate brushed aside a strand of light brown hair blown by the breeze and smiled back, too transfixed to step away
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