One

One more night - alone.

Charlene Randall drove her fiery red BMW into the one-car garage and stepped harder on the brake. She killed the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition.

Tonight would be the one-month anniversary of her breakup with Tim. Her chest tightened just thinking of walking into her empty townhouse. He wouldn't be there. His purebred toy poodle wouldn't be at the front door yapping in a high pitch,ready to tear off her leg.

Okay, so she wouldn't really miss Jaws as much as she would miss the tangy scent of Tim's aftershave. Too bad she liked his scent more than him.

She snagged her leather briefcase from the passenger's seat, stuffed with material she'd have to look over before the morning's meeting with San Diego's Channel Nine Directors, and slid out of the car. A moan escaped her throat. Another night keeping company with news reports rather than a man. People had said, Charley, life will go on. But she'd seen little evidence besides the fact that the sun still rose and set - and she was still very much alone.

She grabbed her purse and bumped the door closed with her hip. The two-inch heels clicked on the cement as she hurried out of the garage. She fished around in her purse for the remote hooked to her keys. Figures. She'd just had the keys in her hand and the same magical force that eats socks from the dryer had worked again, sucking the keys to the bottom of her Gucci bag. Her fingers brushed over the key chain and she withdrew the remote, aimed it over her shoulder and clicked the doors locked.

The evening's cool air stroked her cheek. A gentle wind teased the strands of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail and tickled her neck. She flipped off a stray lock with her hand.

Next to her townhouse, shadows danced under the streetlights as throaty giggles floated in the breeze. A movement from the Lexus parked in front of her neighbor's townhouse caught her attention. She recognized the wave of the man's raven hair and the shape of his abundant muscles.

It was Damien Giovanni, her single, Italian neighbor who had turned romancing women into a career. She rolled her eyes. Looks like he was adding another notch to his bedpost.

On tiptoe, she sneaked toward her front door, not wanting to make her presence known. His deep laughter rang through the quiet night and made her pause before she reached her porch. Could his date be over so early in the evening? That man entertained women every night, and they usually stayed for lunch the next day, and sometimes they left just in time to meet the next woman he had scheduled for the evening.

The glow from the streetlight shone upon the figures writhing against each other beside the door of his sports car. She angled to get a better look. They looked like two worms in electric-shock therapy. How disgusting.

The little hussy in his arms was his usual five-foot eight, blonde Barbie doll. He laughed again, and the baritone ring sent shivers of desire down Charley's spine. She cursed her weakness, admitting she enjoyed hearing him. Must be his Italian accent. Unfortunately, she couldn't stand men like him who hopped from one bed to the next.

The Barbie wannabe raked her more-than-likely fake fingernails up his chest and linked her arms around his neck. Damien grabbed the woman's curvy behind and pulled her body closer to his before his date tilted her head and his mouth landed on hers. One of Damien's hands moved up and caressed the woman's D cup breast and a guttural sound escaped the woman's throat.

Charley's own breasts ached. She folded her arms to stop the heady sensation trickling through her body and the unwanted desires stirring within her. Damn that man. Couldn't he do that in his house? It was bad enough to hear his voice, but to see him in action...

Before she could look away, Damien pushed the woman from him, turned her and swatted her bottom.

"See you later. His voice, still husky from his obvious excitement, stirred butterflies in Charlene's stomach.

Barbie waggled her fingers. "Call me."

"Why? You have my number."

Charley pursed her lips. The arrogant man. But it didn't matter. Women still flocked to him like dieters to a chocolate factory ... and devoured him just as quickly.

She clutched the briefcase to her chest and rushed to her front door before he spotted her. Damien would certainly know she had witnessed the quaint scene a second ago, and he would never let her live it down. Her neighbor always enjoyed making snide remarks about the opposite sex. He did it to rile her - and it worked.

Fumbling with her keys, she hurried to find the one that opened her front door. They slipped from her fingers and hit the porch, clanging loud enough to wake the dead. Cursing, she knelt on one knee and swept her hand over the cement, searching for them.

"Do you need any help, mí amore ?"

She jumped and fell back on her butt. The beating of her heart thundered in her ears, and she placed a hand on her chest. "Damien Giovanni. Why do you always sneak up on me like that?"

He bent over, grasping her upper arm with one hand and her keys with the other. His Levis crackled at the knees as he helped her stand, and the cotton shirt stretching across his magnificent shoulders was just as noticeable.

He grinned. "Because I like the way you jump."

Heat from his touch crept up her arm. She yanked it away. "One of these days you're going to scare me so bad I'll use my can of pepper spray."

His chest shook, deep laughter spilling from his lips. "Honey, if you're as steady with the little can of pepper spray as you are with your keys, I don't see that as a threat."

She fisted her hand and punched his arm, a grin tugging at her mouth. It was hard not to like him despite his reputation. "Just give me back my keys."

He stepped away and folded his arms. "Say the magic words. He wagged his eyebrows in that cocky, infuriating way of his.

"Emergency, 9-1-1?"

He tilted his head and laughed harder. The porch light illuminated his handsome features - straight nose, strong chin, and lips that looked like they'd be heaven to kiss ... for other women, of course.

"Oh, mí amore , you really know how to tickle my funny bone. He dangled the keys in front of her. A twinkle of mirth still sparked in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you really know how to ... irritate me. She grabbed her keys and turned to unlock the door before he noticed the grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. She dared not meet his stare directly, knowing what she'd witnessed. Her neighbor only had one thing on his mind, which she had adamantly refused the first day they'd met. Now, every time they had a conversation, his bold gaze wandered over her body in a leisurely exploration that unnerved her.

If he were anything but the player she knew him to be, she would have taken him up on his invitation. But she was tired of one-night stands, tired of the love ‘em - leave ‘em kind of guys. After enduring so many broken relationships, she wanted more. Better. At age twenty-five, it was time she started thinking of her future.

"I've noticed Tim doesn't come around anymore. Did you two break up?"

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Our timing was off, that's all."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?"

She tightened her fingers around the handle of her briefcase. "I don't see why you're so interested. I'm continuing with my life, just as he's done."

He held up his hands and shrugged. "Hey, no need to get upset. You know, one of these days you're going to thank me for being such a nosey neighbor."

She lifted her gaze to his and shook her head. "Only in your dreams, buddy."

He grinned and stroked his finger across her heated cheek. "My dear Charlene Randall, it will be in your dreams. With a wink, he turned and walked away.

She pushed the door open and rushed inside, breathing a sigh of relief. That man made her uncomfortable in more ways than one.

As she walked to the bedroom, loneliness stretched throughout the hall. She kicked off her heels and slid each foot into a fuzzy purple slipper. On the nightstand, the picture of her latest flame captured her attention ... slapped her face was more like it. Tim's grin used to make her smile, but now she wanted to spit at the silver framed three-by-five.

How dare that man move into her townhouse and sponge off her for three months then leave her for another woman who made more money? And to top it off, he acted like it was Charley's fault for the breakup. How dare he act like he didn't have to find a job and that all he needed was to keep the sofa warm during the day and her bed at night? Usually he entertained the sofa more.

She grabbed the photo, flung it in the small wastebasket a few feet away, and brushed her hands together. There, that took care of one problem.

She entered the kitchen and took a TV dinner from the freezer; her usual gourmet meal on nights like this.

After pulling the meal out of the box and setting the timer on the microwave, she turned to yet another order of business ... collecting information on the Internet for tomorrow's news.

She made herself comfortable on the gray swivel chair and turned on the computer. Whistling a made-up tune, she tapped her fingers on the desktop and waited for the machine to boot. Within minutes, she'd logged onto the Internet. The homepage popped up and she scanned the headlines, searching for something of interest. In the top right of the screen, an article grabbed her attention.

10 Ways to Melt a Man's Heart.

Her explosive laugh disintegrated to a snort. Yeah, right. Melt a man's heart? She'd have better luck giving a mountain lion a haircut.

She ignored the link and searched through several other articles, but her gaze kept going back. What would it hurt? She had a few minutes until dinner.

Melt a man's heart? No way.But curiosity got the best of her. What if there was a way? Perhaps this article had the very thing she needed to keep a man in her life. It wouldn't hurt to look...

She clicked on the hyperlink.

What do men find romantic? With the help of Jason Stewart, founder of guyswithemotions.com, we've uncovered just what melts heterosexual's hearts. Below, panelists answer women's questions and bare their souls.

She leaned back in her chair, threading her fingers together over her stomach.

1. Dark Chocolates. "Milk chocolate is for kids. Dark chocolate is for lovers. The chemical phenylethlamine, found in dark chocolate, mimics the feeling you have when you're in love.

She arched an eyebrow. Very interesting.

2. Hard-to-find gifts. A gift that requires effort is sure to be a big hit with the guys.

3. Compliments. The quickest direction to a man's heart is through his ego.

She snickered. Thought it was through their stomachs.

4. A night on the town. Take your man on an old-fashioned date. Fix him dinner or go dancing. While in his arms, stare into his eyes.

5. Tall buildings. In general, guys like big things. Find a place with a good view. Kiss him under the stars.

6. Funny movies. When you can laugh together, you're really connecting.

7. Wear his clothes. Meet him when he gets home from work wearing nothing but his button-down dress shirt.

8. Surprise intimacy. Men like it when women surprise them with spontaneous sex.

9. Great memories. When you're together, make it memorable. Create memories by taking pictures or writing in a journal.

10. Tell him ‘I love you’ in a note. Leave little notes around the house, his office, in his car. Telling him you love him will strengthen the relationship.

She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. She'd never done any of those things for the men she'd dated. Could that be why she'd never kept them?

The beeping of the microwave jarred her from her thoughts. She pushed away from her computer desk and hurried into the kitchen.

Could this article be a sign on how to keep a man? It wouldn't hurt to try. But who would be her target?

Damien's face popped into her head. She scowled, wishing she hadn't thought of him. He was the last person that would get involved in a serious relationship. The last thing she needed was to give her heart to him and have him trade her in for a newer version of Barbie. She rubbed her forehead and crossed her sex-oriented neighbor off the list. So who?

The aroma of fried chicken wafted through the air, making her stomach growl. For tonight, she'd put off the 10 Ways to Melt a Man's Heart and concentrate on filling her stomach.

Tomorrow she'd find a man - and with any luck, she'd make the relationship last.

* * * *

Close your open trap and wipe the drool off your chin.

Charley snapped her mouth shut, hoping she didn't look like a wide-mouth bass as she eyed the blond hunk walking beside her boss. Fred Murray, Channel Nine's Station Director, escorted Tall, Brawny, and Gorgeous down the hall, making introductions as they passed offices and cubicles.

Familiarity nudged her, but she couldn't recall where she'd seen him before.

Charlene jumped from her chair and hurried from her cubicle toward her friend. Just as she'd thought, Amanda's lust-filled eyes followed the pair. Charlene said a silent prayer of thanks Amanda was married.

Fred dropped a paper and the new heartthrob bent over to retrieve it. Even the way his body curved as he did this movement seemed familiar. But why? She glanced at her friend to see if her attention was pulled to the same spot Charley wanted to ogle.

After stopping beside Amanda, Charley bumped her arm. "Stop staring at his ass."

Her co-worker blinked. A knowing smile stretched across her mouth. "That's the new guy, Maxwell Harrington. He's taking Phillip's place now that he's retired."

Charley's eyes couldn't have opened any wider if she wanted. The rhythm of her heart took on a faster beat. This couldn't be happening ... not to her. The dream walking with her boss was Charley's high-school crush. Max was the super jock, super stud, and had the super personality all the girls flipped over. Especially her.

"Are you serious? She looked over the two men, slowly making their way toward Amanda's desk. "He's the new sports anchorman?"

"Sure is."

"Maxwell Harrington, Charley whispered in remembrance. His name breezed across her lips like soothing fingers in a seductive stroke - just like it did in high school. He didn't resemble the boy she'd had a mad crush on for three years. Instead, more muscles rippled on his tall frame, and his hair seemed blonder than she remembered as it swept away from his face. The years had turned him into one fine specimen of a man.

If she'd been the least bit forward, she'd be by his side right now seeing if he remembered her. But that wasn't her style. Not even back in high school.

Shyness had always been her biggest downfall with men, which was probably another reason the past four had moved on to other women. With all of her failed relationships, she'd collected enough material to write a new bestseller, "Breaking Up for Dummies."

The closer Fred and Maxwell Harrington came, the harder her heart pounded. She should be used to this feeling by now. Give it up, girl. He's out of your league. And if he remembers you, he'll remember the class clown! Yet, with a man like that parading past her cubicle every day she would continue fantasizing about the unobtainable.

Beside her, Amanda nudged her elbow, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Here he comes, she muttered under her breath.

Fred, a pot-bellied older man with a head full of thick gray hair, stopped in front of them. "Ladies, he began, his smile so extensive it showed most of his pricey dentures. "This is our new sports anchorman, Maxwell Harrington."

Amanda pushed her way to the front, her arm stretched in greeting. "Hi, Maxwell Harrington. I'm Amanda Shepherd, Executive Producer."

A smile spread across the man's face. "Please, call me Max."

His deep voice made Charley want to sigh. Familiar tingles ran through her. She moved her gaze from his astonishing eyes to Amanda's hand as he shook it. Her friend flirted, using her fingers in an obvious caress of his large, tanned fingers. Charley boiled inside, wishing she could be so forward. But then, married or not, flirting was what Amanda did best.

"So Max, what brings you to Channel Nine? her co-worker asked with a sultry purr.

"I've been working in a Chicago station for the past six years, and thought it was time I came back to my home town."

Max let go of Amanda's hand and turned toward Charley. She opened her mouth to speak, but she experienced a brain freeze. Her tongue seemed to swell and her voice locked up. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat and began again.

"Hello. Her voice released an embarrassing squeak. She cleared her throat. "I'm Charley Randall."

No spark of remembrance lit his eyes, but she didn't give up hope.

"Nice to meet you, Charley. Max's smile widened, and his eyes twinkled. Her heart fluttered.

He paused as if waiting for her to say something else. All she could do was stare into his brilliant, sea-blue eyes - eyes a girl could drift away in.

"What do you do at Channel Nine? he asked.

She focused on the conversation. "I'm the Presearch Roducer ."

Beside her, Amanda snorted a laugh. Charley's cheeks heated, and the sinking dread in her stomach descended lower than the Titanic.

She cleared her throat. "I mean, I'm the Research Producer. I'm Amanda's assistant."

His lips twitched as if holding back a laugh. "Well, I hope we'll work together soon."

As Fred and Max continued down the hall, she released a mouthful of air, the awkward moment now past. Her gaze dropped to Max's backside and enjoyed the way his gray, pin-striped pants molded the wonderful curve of his tush ... a tush she'd memorized before high school graduation.

But an ache formed in her chest. He didn't remember. Then again, why would he? They'd never really talked in high school. She was always the shy and clumsy girl with chicken-legs who followed the jocks around like a rock-star groupie. Back then, boys like Max didn't have time to look at unpopular girls like Charley.

When he turned down another hallway out of her view, deep disappointment washed over her. "Wow. He's one fine-looking man."

"Yeah. Amanda nudged her arm. "And you know all the available women here at the station will be after him."

Charley cocked her head at her co-worker and frowned. "So? What does that mean?"

"You know your track record with men is not the best. Amanda shrugged. "It's common knowledge."

"Common knowledge for whom?"

"The whole office knows you can't keep a man longer than a couple of months, Charley. In fact, wasn't Tim the longest?"

A cold knife ripped through her chest, threatening to dislodge her heart. "Are you saying you don't think I have a chance with Max?"

A sorrowful expression clouded Amanda's eyes. "Well..."

Charley flipped her hand through the air. "Don't say it. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. The reason I haven't been able to keep a man for longer than a couple of months is because I choose not to. Stubbornly, she lifted her chin and folded her arms. "I was bored with the others. Max is different. Of course it helped that he didn't remember her in school - and because he didn't know about the other men and how she lost them.

Amanda patted her shoulder. "But wouldn't you lose interest in him as you did the others?"

The shield Charley had tried to build around her heart crumbled, but she hid her distress behind a forced smile. "I don't know, and I won't know until I try."

"Then I wish you all the luck in the world. Amanda turned and sat behind her desk. The look of pity on her co-worker's face was obvious.

Anger surged through her and she clamped her hands by her side. How dare Amanda doubt her ability to hold a man? She supposed Amanda meant well. After all, her co-worker had observed all of her failed relationships.

She turned and stormed back to her desk as her dreams of catching Max increased. As much as she wanted to believe she'd been bored with the other men, the plain and simple truth was they had tired of her. Keeping a man for a long period of time was not her forte, but this time she would prove she could catch Mr. Heartthrob. And keep him.

When the others had walked out of her life, they'd never really explained why. Wasn't she adventurous enough in bed? Did they get annoyed with her clumsy ways as she tripped over herself to please them?

But Max was different. He didn't remember her from school, and he certainly didn't know the woman she was now. She could show him a better side of her personality than she'd shown before. She'd prove to her co-workers she could keep a man.

And that man would be the boy she'd dreamed of having for three years in school. The boy she wrote about in her journal every night, and cried over when he took another girl to the dance. The boy she wore black for when he left to go to college in Chicago - the one she never thought she'd see again.

Was fate finally being kind to her?

She slid in her chair and swiveled toward the computer. Exhaling, she stirred the lock of hair over her forehead and looked at the stack of papers on her desk. Augh.

Just like most mornings, she checked her email before starting work. Besides, the small television on her desk tuned on a national news station wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. She adjusted her chair then gripped her computer mouse and clicked the Internet link.

Thoughts of the article she'd read lifted her spirits. What were the chances of making Max her target? She rolled her eyes. Probably as good as getting a visit from Ed McMahon holding a check written for ten million dollars.

She went to her email. Thirty-one messages? She groaned. Without looking, she knew most of them came from her mother. Would that woman ever stop nagging her about finding a man? Couldn't she at least give Charley better encouragement besides, there are other fish in the sea ? Obviously, her mother hadn't been fishing in a while. The water was low and the bait outdated. That didn't make a good combination for awkward women like her.

She checked her mail then closed out of the program. That ridiculous article lurked on the edge of her thoughts, making it impossible to think of anything else.

Out of the corner of her eye, Max strolled into the room that would be his office. Another co-worker poked her head inside and made a comment that made him smile. Charley's heart leapt. She'd do anything to see him smile that way at her.

She thought back to the ten steps. Should she give it a try? She couldn't bear thinking of another failed relationship, but with the Ten Ways to help her, what could go wrong?

Perhaps this was fate's way of telling her to go for it .

With a firm decision, she smiled wide. Give her a couple of days and she'd figure out something intelligent.

Watch out Maxwell Harrington. Here I come!

Two

Dark chocolate is for lovers.

Charlene's hands shook with nervous tension when she opened the door to her office building. She balanced a box of See's chocolates on her arm and withdrew her key from the lock. The clock on the wall confirmed she was on schedule - one hour before work started.

She walked into the building, stopped and listened. The night team who ran the early morning news was still there. They were few in number, and nowhere near her desk or Max's.

Her heels resounded through the building like a cannon in the Sistine Chapel. She cringed and lifted her feet one at a time, sliding off her two-inch heels. After picking up her shoes, she tiptoed down the hall. Laughter of the early morning crew broke out from the break room, and she jumped. Over her shoulder she peered down the hallway, but was thankful nobody had come out.

Another noise caught her attention and she sucked in a breath. Where is that loud incessant thumping sound coming from?

Her ears strained as she listened closer. The noise matched her heartbeat, perfectly. She scowled. Why did the rhythm of her heart have to be so loud?

She peeked around the corner of a wall. The rows of offices appeared empty, lights off and doors closed. She breathed a relieved sigh. Yup, the others were all in the break room.

With the box of candy clutched in her hands, she hurried toward Max's office. At his door, she turned the knob and went inside.

He'd been working at the station less than three days now, but his woodsy scent hung heavy in the warm air and surrounded her. With every breath, it invaded her lungs. She stopped in the middle of the room, closed her eyes, and exhaled a soft moan. Oh, what a man.

Shrill laughter floated down the hall and plunged her to reality. She shook away the sensual images and set the box of chocolates on the corner of his desk. She pressed the card open to make sure he'd see the message.

Your sweetness makes even chocolates jealous.Signed, Your Admirer.

As she stared at the box, she visualized Max's reaction. He would saunter into his office in that sexy way of his, dressed to kill in his form-fitting slacks and a white button-down shirt that emphasized his muscles. When he saw the box, his eyes would grow wide. He'd snatch the card and read it. A smile would spread across his lips, making his blue eyes twinkle. He'd open the box and pop a chocolate into his mouth. The dreamy expression on his half-closed lids would let her know the chemical phenylethlamine had worked.

The compound in the candy would give him feelings of love. He'd stop, turn, and look her way. Their gazes would meet and cling. His fingers would touch his lips before blowing a kiss her way. She'd catch it and hold it against her heart. He'd motion with his head for her to come into his office. She'd follow like a person spellbound, not even feeling her feet touch the ground as she floated to him. The door would close, making their meeting private, and he'd take her in his arms...

A loud clank from down the hall jolted her from her daydream. She rushed out of his office and stopped, listening to see where the sound had come from.

She sighed. It was the old furnace kicking on. But it didn't matter. Time to hurry to her desk before someone came.

Lost in thought, she smacked her nylon-clad toes against the wall. Holding a curse under her breath, she hopped around on one foot and grabbed her throbbing toe. Tears stung her eyes and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

She placed her foot on the floor and limped back to her desk, scanning the offices on her way. Whew . She hadn't been caught.

Once at her desk, she turned on her computer. Needing to appear as if she'd been working, she scattered a few papers over the top.

Her forty-two co-workers arrived within the next thirty minutes, but she waited for one in particular. When Max walked in, the whole room seemed to beam just as it used to do in high school. And as like in yesteryear, people greeted him with waves. He nodded, giving them his ear-to-ear smile. She sighed.

He stepped into his office with his coffee cup in one hand and his briefcase in the other. She leaned forward on her desk, resting her elbows on top as she stared at him through his office window and waited.

His head turned toward the box as he set his cup and briefcase on his desk. After hanging his coat on the rack in the corner, he moved back by the box and slowed his step. His gaze dropped to the candy. She held her breath. Her hands shook so badly she clasped them together and held them between her knees.

He flipped his finger against the card, opening it wider. He stared at the card for a few seconds then turned and looked out his office door.

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she shuffled through the papers on her desk, hoping to appear busy. She picked one up as if studying it, peeking over the edge at him.

He didn't look her way, and her heart sank. The dream wouldn't happen the way she'd imagined - not yet, anyway.

When he sat behind his desk and turned on his computer, she scowled. Isn't he going to eat a piece of chocolate? He has to!

Glancing at the clock every five minutes didn't help the hour pass any quicker. Every time he moved from his desk, she jumped and her heart quickened in hopes of him eating a piece. He remained impassive to the chocolates.

After a few more hours crept by with her mind everywhere except where it should be, she growled and pushed away from her desk. She needed a Coke, or something that would keep her mouth and hands busy.

The clicking of high heels echoed on the floor near her desk before she smelled Amanda's heavily perfumed body-spray. Her supervisor plopped her butt down on the edge of Charley's desk, crinkling a paper beneath her silk skirt.

A smile stretched wide across the other woman's face. Now was not the time for grins. Amanda's long, thin leg thumped against the side of the desk, swinging in an uncalculated rhythm. The incessant noise irritated Charley's already frayed nerves, like fingernails grating down a chalkboard.

"So, Charley. Have you talked to Max lately?"

Charley scowled. "Lower your voice. I don't want the whole damn office hearing you."

Amanda's eyes widened. "Why? You are after Max, aren't you?"

"Maybe, maybe not, and if I am, it's my business, not the office's concern."

"Just wondered if you wanted my help. Amanda extended her arm, her attention moving to her cherry red manicured nails as she waggled them through the air.

Charley took a deep breath and in her mind counted to ten. Although it made her happy to know her friend wanted to help, now wasn't the best time. She was still too anxious about Max not eating the chocolate.

"Thanks, Amanda. I'll keep your offer in mind."

Amanda shrugged and slid off the side of the desk. "Holler if you need me. She turned and slinked back around the corner toward her own desk.

For the next several hours, her gaze skipped toward Max's desk. The box of chocolates remained untouched. His hand passed right by them when he reached for his coffee, and she wanted to scream when he didn't pick up a piece and plunk it into his mouth.

By the end of the day, her chest burned with a frustrated cry she couldn't wait to release. What was wrong with him? He could at least eat one.

She kept her eyes on him until after the ten o'clock evening's broadcast, and still, he had yet to eat the candy. He gathered his personal items then stopped and looked at the box of chocolates. Her heart sped and she caught her breath. He picked up the box and walked out of his office. He scanned the area, then his gaze rested on her.

Wearing a smile, he headed her way. The closer he came, the hotter her face burned.

"Hey, Charley? Do you like chocolate?"

She swallowed hard. "Ummm ... yes."

He set the box on her desk. "You can have these. I'd hate to see them go to waste."

She nodded, opening her mouth to ask him why he didn't eat them, but Frank came up behind Max and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You did a great job on the air, Max."

Max turned and walked away with Frank, and just like that, he was gone.

Over his shoulder, he called out his goodbyes, passing the others on his way out the door. Tomorrow was his day off, and she'd have to wait yet another day to see what other of the Ten Ways she could try on him.

In momentary defeat, she grabbed the box of chocolates, her purse, and her briefcase and left the building. Her bottom lip drooped lower, and she was sure she'd step on it sooner or later.

The time it took to drive from work to home passed by quickly. She didn't even remember how she'd arrived at her townhouse. The place seemed darker than usual, but she brushed off the prickly sensations raising the hairs on the back of her neck as she climbed from the car.

Out of habit, she reached in her purse for the garage-door remote and clicked the button. The cool night breeze fanned her face as she turned and walked toward the front door. She dug through her purse to find her keys, balancing the box of chocolate in her arm. Cursing under her breath, she stopped to set the box down, but before she could turn, a crack resounded through the air. Above her, the porch light bulb shattered into tiny pieces.

She yipped and jumped back to keep from getting cut. The box of candy and her keys slipped from her hand and hit the ground. What in the hell just happened?

"Damn it. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the darkness so she could locate her keys.

The streetlight was semi hidden behind her garage, making it almost impossible to see. She used her foot to do her looking, moving it around the porch. Something jingled next to her shoe, and she sighed.

As she bent to retrieve her keys, a shiver ran up her spine and teased the hairs at the base of her neck. Moments later, the wind had stopped blowing on her face. Her heart sank, her breathing slowed. Somebody was beside her.

Could it be Damien Giovanni again?

She scowled and jumped up, ready to face her neighbor. But when a hand snaked out from behind her and clamped over her mouth, and a body shoved her against the brick wall, she cried out. Damien wouldn't be that rough.

The hand pressed against her mouth and nose didn't smell anything like Damien's sexy scent. Instead, the odor reminded her of raw onions - and an unwashed clod.

Her body shook and her heart had almost given up beating for lack of oxygen. Her limbs even weakened.

"Listen lady, the man's raspy voice whispered in her ear. "Do as I say and you won't get hurt."

She managed a small nod.

"You stay against the wall just like you are now, and I'm going to reach down and get your purse."

Swallowing hard, she nodded again.

After what seemed like an eternity, he removed his hand, but the pressure from his body remained against her. She peeked over her shoulder, but all she could see was his black garb, and the facemask hiding his identity.

Was this really happening? Tears stung her eyes, panic consuming her.

He opened her purse with one hand, but kept glancing up at her, his free hand extending toward her as if to ward off an attack. Her breaths quickened, her lungs burned to keep in air.

"Shit, lady, where's your wallet?"

Collecting the courage she'd didn't think she had, she raised her foot and kicked as hard as she could. Her shoe connected with his hip and knocked him down. She turned, jumped over him, and yelled for help as loud as she could.

The man coughed, but was faster than she'd anticipated. His hand caught her ankle in her pursuit. She tripped and landed on her knees, her hands caught the cement in effort to break her fall. Pain ripped through her, and her wrenched muscles screamed in agony.

"You bitch, he hissed, scrambling toward her.

She rolled to her back and brought her legs up to kick at him again. From the shadows, a new form appeared. Like a scene from a Superman movie, another man flew across the porch and landed on top of her attacker, knocking him to the ground. She crawled out of their way.

The men rolled, but the larger one pinned her attacker on the grass. Her Superman raised his fist and plowed it into the other's face. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the air, and she cringed. Hopefully, it was the other man's nose and not her rescuer's hand.

Through the breeze, she detected a man's musky cologne. Damien. Her heartbeat accelerated.

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Charley, my cell phone is clipped to my waist. Call the police."

She hurried over to him, and with shaky hands tried to find the cell. Her hands brushed across his tight stomach, then found the cold plastic of the phone.

She clicked it open and her trembling finger pushed 9-1-1.

When the voice came over the other end, she let out a ragged breath. "This is Charley Randall at 4010 Meadows Drive. I've been attacked. Send someone quick!"

While a squeaky-voiced woman on the other side of the line probed for more details, Charley's gaze remained leveled on Damien. The man beneath him struggled, but her neighbor tightened his grip and pushed the other man's head into the ground. Through it all, Damien glanced her way. He nodded and gave her a reassuring wink.

After the police questioned them and hauled her attacker to jail, Charley finally crumbled. Her body shook as tears gushed from her eyes. Damien gathered her in his strong arms and she rested her head on his chest. His body heat surrounded and warmed her, but it didn't diminish the sobs that wracked her body.

Damien had actually saved her. She owed him her life. She nibbled on her lip and glanced up at him. Her protector had dealt with the situation and was her support. Had she been wrong about him? Had he been the good guy all this time and she'd just refused to believe it?

He helped her into her townhouse and locked the door. Treating her as if she were a precious piece of glass, he walked her to the couch and assisted her as she sat. He leveled himself beside her.

" Mí amore. He swiped a lock of hair off her forehead. The softness in his gray eyes made her chest tighten. "Do you want me to fix you some coffee?"

"No."

He leaned back, his eyes creased at the edges. "Are you sure?"

"I don't want coffee."

"Then what do you want? His finger trailed down her cheek, wiping away some moisture. "Would you like me to stay with you tonight?"

If he had said that yesterday, she'd have known what he meant. But now ... She frowned. Had the man with sex on his mind returned?

"No, Damien, I'll be just fine."

"I can sleep on the couch, just to make sure you're all right. He patted her hands.

She gave him a weak smile. "That's not necessary. Please, go home."

"Do you want me to check your house first to see if everything looks safe?"

Emotion tugged at her heart. He was being her Superman in every way. Why did he have to be so sweet? Why couldn't he be the Prince Charming she'd been searching for? But she suspected he acted this way only because of what happened tonight. He'd be back to his normal sexist-self tomorrow.

"Thank you. That's a good idea. Go ahead and search my house, but when you're done, you can leave. I'll be fine."

He squeezed her hands before moving away. His dark blue Levis had white and green scuffmarks where he and the other man rolled on the cement and grass. The light blue cotton shirt molded to his muscles, bunching with his movements.

She stood and on unsteady legs, made her way into the kitchen for a glass of water. It wasn't coffee she needed tonight, but a sleeping pill.

His heavy footsteps boomed throughout her home, stopping at each room. When he bounded down the stairs, she pulled away from the kitchen counter to meet him at the bottom step.

He touched her shoulder. His eyes, soft with tenderness. "Everything looks good."

She sighed. "Thanks again, Damien. You saved my life. She shrugged. "I don't know how to thank you."

The corner of his mouth lifted in an assured grin. "I'll think of a way ... tomorrow. Tonight, you get some rest."

She frowned. His one-track mind was back.

"Thanks again, Damien."

He caressed her cheek then turned and walked out the door. Although he'd never be relationship material, he at least made a good neighbor and friend. For now, that was all she wanted from him.

* * * *

Maybe she should have gone to work. But after last night's episode, her frazzled nerves wouldn't let her. Besides that, it was Max's day off. Good enough reason to stay home and recuperate.

Sleep hadn't come easy last night.

She growled and punched her fist into her pillow. The memory of that damn mugger had kept her awake most of the night. Her attacker had been thrown in the slammer, but she still worried there was another man out there just waiting to pounce on her.

She shivered and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Perhaps she should have taken Damien's offer and let him stay on her couch. No, because with him in the house, she was assured a completely sleepless night.

She slipped her legs off the bed and sat and stretched her arms above her head. The only things she planned on accomplishing this morning were to shower, dress and eat. And maybe not in that order.

The morning passed too quickly, and in between catnaps, the afternoon had disappeared. Seven in the evening came fast.

She plopped on the sofa and curled up in a ball. After she'd pushed the mugging incident behind her, she thought about yesterday with Max. What a disaster it had been. Tears gathered in her eyes, and if her throat tightened any more, she'd have to call the paramedics.

She was nothing but a pathetic loser. What was wrong with her? It seemed she had strayed back into the old pattern with men. Could Amanda be right? Maybe she couldn't attract the sort of man she wanted.

But other men were not the issue right now. This was Max - someone who she'd loved when she was a teenager - someone who didn't know about her past failures. So why couldn't she get him to notice her? Sure, she thought of herself as a frog, but even toads mated, didn't they?

They did.

With other toads.

Perhaps I've set my sights too high? What I need to find is a small, green, slimy kind of guy, and then I can live happily ever after ... in the swamp.She groaned and slumped headfirst into the throw pillow.

She wiped her eyes, fighting for control. Depression wouldn't consume her. There had to be something she could do.

A quick knock sounded at her front door. She popped up straight like a jack-in-the-box that'd been wound too tight, and finished drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She hurried over to the door, but hesitated to place her hand on the knob.

"Who is it?"

"Your protective neighbor."

With a heavy sigh, she opened the door. Damien leaned against the wall, his shirt emphasizing his bulging muscles as if he were the center attraction at a model school. He folded his arms across his wide chest. His familiar crooked grin warned her he wanted something she wasn't going to like.

She gave him a hesitant smile. "Hello, Damien."

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I ordered Chinese, and you know they always bring too much. It's sitting on my table as we speak. I thought you could help me eat it."

She wanted to turn him down, but her grumbling stomach accepted before she had time to open her mouth and refuse.

He chuckled and glanced at her midsection. "Boy, I've never had such a quick response before."

She smiled. "Okay, I'll eat with you, but I have a feeling eating isn't the only thing you have planned tonight."

He held up his hands in surrender. "You have me pegged, mí amore ."

She nodded. "You know I'm not interested in that ."

He shook his head. "You have it all wrong. I've thought of a way you could pay me back for helping you last night. I have something to make you relax, yet at the same time it will give you pleasure."

She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "Of all the low-down, inconsiderate - "

He pulled on her arm until her hand dropped from her neck. "It's not what you're thinking. I want to try a new product from work on you."

She crinkled her forehead. "What are you talking about?"

"I work at GIO Products, and we're trying out a new product for women. I want you to be my guinea pig."

"What's the product?"

His gray eyes sparkled and he winked. "It's a surprise. Now come on before the food gets cold."

Her heart hammered. He grasped her elbow and led her to his townhouse. She'd actually get to see how the playboy lived. Although his intensions still made her leery, her palms were moist with anticipation. Would he treat her like one of his Barbie dolls?

Did she want him to?

Three

Damien held his breath, waiting for her refusal. Since he'd met her six months ago, she'd been declining every invitation he offered. Of course, most of the time sex had something to do with it.

Could he help it? She was a very attractive woman; had the right curves and those hypnotic blue eyes could bring any man to his knees. And the cute way she became riled made her irresistible. She could make him laugh no matter what mood he was in.

Charley grabbed her keys and locked the door, then followed him to his townhouse. Two steps into his place, she sucked in her breath and her eyes grew wide.

Perhaps he should have warned her he'd just redecorated, but he wanted to see her reaction. Instead of the brown carpet like she had in her front room, there were large black and white domino-tiled shapes on the floor.

She blinked. "Wow. What is this? A freakin’ museum?"

He chuckled and walked ahead of her, motioning with his hand for her to move into the living room. Her gaze snapped to a red chair with a beige cushion that stood against the wall. He really liked this chair because its back curved perfectly to fit a human form.

She shook her head. "I know I've never seen furniture like this before unless it's been in a Dr. Seuss book."

"That's called a Pelican chair. He nodded in the direction of her stare. "Christensen and Legaarct designed it, not Dr. Seuss. He pointed to a cherry wood chair. "And that's a Chieftain's chair, made by Hansen and Sorensen."

Her gaze rested on the final piece of furniture, a black and white sofa.

He pointed. "And that's a Ross’ sofa, companioned with Ross’ coffee table. Notice how the brushed stainless steel legs have wooden toes. The veneered tabletop is also stainless steel and has matching vases."

Turning her attention to him, she cocked her head. "Let me guess, Ross made them?"

He laughed. "No. Hansen and Sorensen."

She nodded, her mouth twisting into a quirk. "Aw, my mistake."

Paintings hung on his walls, too, but she didn't ask him about those. She then turned her gaze to the assortment of potted plants scattered on shelves, and to the large pots sitting in the corners of the room.

She arched an eyebrow. "Why do you have so many plants?"

"GIO Products is starting a new line of herbal shampoos and conditioners. I've been studying plants lately, and most of these are for testing."

She stood next to his couch, running her fingers along the edge. As much as he'd love to see her lounging across it, the overwhelming scents of Chinese food beckoned him to pull her toward the kitchen. There'd be plenty of time to enjoy the couch later if his plan worked.

Just like his living room furniture, his brown and black dining room set was just as fancy.

"Did Hansen and Sorensen make this, too? she asked.

"No. Nanna Ditzel did. This set is a Tobago Café."

She arched her eyebrow, her eyes devoid of recognition. "Hmmmm, I can see why."

He chuckled, knowing she didn't understand anything he had said.

The heavenly scent of Chinese food hung thick in the air. Her stomach growled and he grinned.

She inhaled and closed her eyes. "Ummm ... what's the specialty tonight?"

"I hope you like sweet and sour chicken and lo-mien noodles. There's also a couple of egg-rolls and fried prawns."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "Really?"

"Yes, why?"

She shrugged. "That just happens to be my favorite."

His chest swelled. At least they had the same taste in food. "Good, it's mine, too."

He moved to the chair and pulled it out. She gaped with wide eyes.

"What? he asked.

"You ... you pulled out the chair for me."

"So."

"So most men don't do that."

He winked. "You'll soon discover I'm not like most men."

Tearing her stare away from him, she turned and planted her cute little backside on the chair. She wiggled her bottom on the seat.

"Well? he asked. "What do you think? Is it comfortable?"

"Yes. I can't believe it, but it is."

He turned to his cupboards and removed two plates, bringing them over to the table. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet and sour scent he placed in front of her. Her tongue slipped out and wiped across her lips.

Did she know how lovely she looked right now? How his desire for her climbed a notch? But he'd have to take it slow with Charley. Obviously his charm hadn't won her over yet, so he must choose a different path.

"So, who's the new man in your life?"

She snapped her head toward him and glared. "What makes you think I have a new man in my life?"

He shrugged. "I saw you'd brought home a box of chocolates with you last night. I just assumed..."

"Well, you assumed wrong."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Just trying to make small talk."

She relaxed and drew in her claws. When she smiled, it softened his heart.

"I'm sorry I got upset. The truth is, you're not too far off. Although I don't have a man in my life, I am trying."

He walked back to the counter to fix his plate. "Who's the lucky guy?"

She chuckled. "He'd been my high school crush. Now he works with me. His name is Max Harrington."

His hand stopped midway to the box of sweet and sour chicken, his breath catching in his throat. Did she just say the name of the man he'd been trying to forget since college?

He looked back at her. "Tall, blond, and built like a quarter-back? That Maxwell Harrington?"

She smiled. "You know him?"

His jaw hardened, his fingers tightening around the fork. "We were in college together."

"Well, he doesn't know about my track record with men, so I'm going to try a different way in winning him over."

He arched his brow. "What way is that?"

She explained how she'd run across an Internet article that told women how to melt a man's heart it 10 ways ... and she kept a straight face the whole time. He couldn't do the same. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to hold in a laugh. "So that's what the box of chocolates was for?"

"Yes."

"How did it go? He sat beside her and twirled his fork in the noodles.

"Not as well as I'd wanted."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "He didn't even open the box. How can he detect my mating scent if he doesn't get that chemical in his blood? Hell, it was like blowing a moose mating horn to a deaf moose."

He chuckled. "Perhaps he's not a moose."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I wish I knew what kind of mating call he likes, but unfortunately, I don't. She sipped her water. "Then again, maybe I read the article backward. Maybe it said eat chocolates in the dark instead of eating dark chocolate."

"What if this chemical is a hoax and it doesn't work?"

She arched an eyebrow. "But what if it does? Besides, I checked it out on the Internet. Apparently, there has been tests done that support this theory."

"Maybe he'll eat the candy tomorrow."

"No. He gave them to me without knowing I'm his admirer."

He crinkled his forehead. "Oooh, not good."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Did he give a reason why he didn't eat them?"

"No."

"Then you need to think of another way to get that chemical in his blood."

"You're not telling me anything new, but I don't know what to do. My brain is running on empty. She shoveled a pile of rice on her fork before pushing it in her mouth.

He scratched the side of his face. He really didn't want to help her win Max. No girl deserved such punishment, and he didn't deserve to be tortured by watching it happen ... twice in a lifetime. He couldn't stand the rejection. Women always picked blond hair and blue eyes over Damien Giovanni.

Although he didn't want to help her, he did like being around her. So maybe if he volunteered to help, she'd allow him into her heart as a friend ... and eventually more.

They ate in silence. As hard as he tried not to think of a way to have Max eat the chocolates, her sad eyes tugged on his heartstrings and he wished he could kiss away her frown. The only way to make her smile was to help. Hopefully Max would show his true colors soon and she'd move on to another man ... and he'd be standing next in line.

"I think I know a way."

Her gaze snapped to his face, her eyes widened.

"Does he still drink coffee in the morning?"

"Yes."

"All right, here's what you'll do. When he leaves his room, sneak in and replace it with hot chocolate. He took a swallow of his water to wash down the annoyance rising inside him. "When he sips his drink, he'll drink the hot chocolate instead, and the chemical will enter his body."

Color came back to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled to a healthy sapphire. She grasped his hand and squeezed. "You're the best."

He winked. "I know."

"This will work. Oh, thank you."

"Sure, anytime."

She smiled wide. "Does this mean you'll help me win Max?"

He stared blankly at her. Help her? He didn't want to help her with Max, but then if it meant spending more time with her and watching her eyes light up, he'd do it. He'd also be by her side to make certain Max didn't hurt her.

He nodded and she released a big sigh.

"Can you sneak into his office without being seen after he's put his coffee on the desk? he asked.

She paused, her forehead creasing. Within seconds, her eyes widened. "Yes. Every morning there's a meeting for the producers and anchor people. The old sports anchorman was usually only in there for a few minutes. If Max follows the same schedule, I can switch the drinks then."

Damien lifted his water glass. "Then let's toast to a successful day."

She raised her glass, clinking it against his. The twinkle came back into her eyes and his chest ached to think it wasn't for him. Why had he offered to help when he should be keeping her away from men like Max? Under the table, he bunched his hand into a fist, wishing he could kick his own ass instead.

He debated telling her the truth about his former friend, only because he didn't know if Max had changed from when Damien knew him in college. He'd ride it out and see what happened. With any luck, she'd get tired of Mr. Sportsman quickly.

"Okay, now that we have dinner out of the way, I have something to try on you. He pushed away from the table and held out his hand for her to take. She hesitated, her forehead creased.

" Tryon me?"

He chuckled. "Yes, the new GIO product. He paused, then asked, "Don't you trust me?"

The corner of her mouth lifted, but she didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed slightly and he grinned. He took her hand and pulled her out of the kitchen, through the front room and toward his bedroom. It thrilled him to be bringing her this way, only because he'd been trying to seduce her since the first day he moved next door. Of course, it was his own fault she thought poorly of him and fought his every move.

He'd change that ... slowly but surely.

When he first met Charley, he suspected she was like most money-hungry women - like his ex, but Charley didn't act impressed when he showed her his new furniture. Usually the women asked him about what he did for a living and how much he made by now. For some reason, Charley didn't care.

He'd always thought she was one fine looking woman, and when he told her so, she didn't like his flirtatious manner or his sexual remarks. Every time he saw her, he wanted to see the fire in her eyes ... wanted to make her melt in his arms. So far, that hadn't happened.

She became a challenge, and now with Max in the picture, it only made the challenge that much more important. Over the past six months, he'd seen the men in her life come and go, and he'd noticed how much she hurt. She couldn't mask the pain in her eyes. He didn't want his old college friend be the next to break her tender heart.

When they entered his room, Charley stopped and stared at his bed with wide eyes. "Is this bed from Scandinavia, too?"

"Yes. Hans Sandgren Jakobsen designed it. He calls it Grandlit."

His bedroom was made for sex, and he wanted it to be an invitation to her. Light blue satin sheets, satin pillows - satin everything, just what women liked ... just what he liked to have around his naked body while laying beside a woman. If only he could experience that with Charley. The little side tables attached to the single mattress bed, supported by cherry wood, only enhanced the bed's mystery.

She grimaced. "It doesn't look very comfortable."

"Oh, believe me, it is. He paused for a second. "Do you want to try it out and see? He wagged his eyebrows.

A flush of pink stained her cheeks, and he bit back a grin. It wasn't very often he was privileged to get this reaction from her. And damn, if he didn't like it.

"No, I don't want to try it out and see. She glanced at the few pictures hanging on the walls and walked to them. "So, you like the outdoors? Mountains, streams, waterfalls?"

"Yes."

She threw a skeptical glance over her shoulder, her eyebrows lifting in a mock laugh. "Didn't figure you were the type."

"And what type is that?"

"The rugged outdoors-man."

He shook his head in non-belief. To him, a man couldn't consider himself masculine unless he loved the wildness of the great mountains.

He took hold of her arm once again and pulled her into his bathroom. She gingerly ran her fingers over his counter, touching his razors, shaving cream, and a bottle of cologne. There were also many GIO brand hair gels, hairsprays, and combs organized along the top.

As she stared at his products, he wanted to share with her the truth. This wasn't merely just any old testing they were going to do. He owned the damn company, and tests like this were important. But thanks to some women like his ex, he bit his tongue and confessed nothing. He was tired of women only seeing him for his fat wallet and enormous bank account.

He motioned for her to sit on the small, black-cushioned stool near the garden tub.

When her bottom rested on the seat, her back stiffened and her eyes met his. "What are you going to do to me?"

He picked up the hair dryer with a long rod on the front off of the counter and handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"GIO has come out with a new toy. It's a combination hair dryer and curling iron. I'm trying it on you to see if it works."

She crinkled her brows. "And what if it doesn't work? Will I get a lasting perm?"

He tipped back his head and laughed. She didn't join in with the humor. "It's already been tested, if that's what you're worried about."

"Has it been tested on people or dummies?"

"People."

"Were the people dummies?"

God, he loved how she could make him laugh. "No."

"Did their hair still look the same afterward?"

"No. It looked better."

"All right, but I'm warning you..."

"Charley, please trust me."

Her jaw hardened and she nodded.

He walked behind her, reached over to the wall and plugged in the cord. "First off, let's get your hair a little damp."

He grabbed the water bottle and sprayed her hair. She raised her hands to block the mist from getting in her eyes. After he'd completed his task, he brought the new contraption over and flipped on the button.

As he played with her hair, the scent of her strawberry shampoo drifted upward, swirling around his senses. Even the hint of berry-scented perfume she liked to wear excited him. Beneath his fingers, the warmth of her skin sparked something inside him, making him want more. Much more.

He smiled. She was nothing like his ex. Charley actually cared about people, and he dreamed of the time she would care deeply about him.

Like most women, she probably suspected he'd never settle down ... like good ‘ole Max Harrington. Inwardly, he growled. Out of the two men, he would settle down sooner than playboy Harrington.

With the threat of Max looming over his head, his chest tightened. Why hadn't he worked faster in trying to get Charley to like him? Would it matter to her now since she'd set her sights on Max? No. She'd been in love with Max since high school.

But he couldn't give up. Charming her would be different from the other ladies. He must become her friend first to gain her trust.

He didn't want to see Charley hurt, and he'd do anything to protect her. But what if his old college buddy had changed? What if Max wasn't the womanizer he'd been back then?

Silently cursing, he gripped the blow dryer harder. Charley had been sexually teasing him for quite some time whether she knew it or not. The way she looked at him when she stepped out of her townhouse, pretending she didn't see him with another woman. The way she turned her cute little nose up as if it didn't bother her. But especially those times he could make her laugh.

She'd grown on him, and he liked it. But how could he make her feel the same way about him? If she'd been the least bit interested, she would have succumbed to his flirtations. She would have gone out with him by now.

His heart sank. Once again, a woman picked Mr. Blond Hair and Blue Eyes. Once again, they picked Max. Torture - that was the word to describe all of this.

His chest ached knowing he wouldn't be the one to hold her, feel her lips in a heated kiss, experience the touch of her hands gliding lovingly over his skin, feel her lying naked beneath him while they made love.

His stomach clenched and so did his fingers in her hair. Charley let out a whimper and he loosened his grip. "Did I hurt you?"

"Just a tiny bit. It's okay now. She moved in her seat, her shoulders relaxing.

Damien rubbed his forehead, hoping to relieve the pounding in his skull. Thinking about Charley eased the pressure, and although he didn't want to help her win Max, he did want to see her happy.

But would the sportsman really make her happy? Several years ago he and Max parted enemies, and Damien had wanted revenge. Revenge didn't matter any longer, but saving Charley from another heartache did. Would she understand or would she think he only wanted her because of what happened back then? Mr. Sportsman would definitely think wanting Charley was done out of vengeance.

Damien was stuck because he'd offered to help. But he'd make sure Max wouldn't use Charley. If it looked as if his former friend was up to his tricks again, he'd barge in and save the damsel in distress.

The mere idea nearly made him laugh out loud, but he bit his bottom lip and kept the humor inside. That's exactly what he'd do. Then, at the right moment, he'd confess his feelings for her and hope to hell she didn't hate him. What could go wrong with a great plan like that?

* * * *

Hot chocolate steamed in the foam cup sitting on her desk as Charley kept her attention glued to Max's office. She prayed he wouldn't take his stainless steel coffee cup into the meeting. He couldn't. Then what would she do?

When eight-thirty neared, he pushed away from his desk and picked up his notepad and pen. He stood and stopped, glancing back at his desk.

She held her breath. Don't take it!

Within seconds, he turned and walked out of his office - without his cup.

She released a pent-up sigh.

"Amanda, he called out. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

Charley's redheaded friend nodded, her eyes glued to the small television on her desk, watching a national news flash. Amanda's fingers gripped the pencil tight as she wrote notes.

Charley waited until eight-thirty-five before she made her move. Acting as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to walk with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand, she smiled, trying to steady her wobbly legs. She continued into Max's office and closed the door. She quickly slipped off the second foam cup she'd put underneath the first, and disposed of Max's coffee. Then she poured the hot chocolate into his stainless steel cup. Placing the now empty cup underneath the full one, she opened the door and casually walked back to her desk as if nothing happened.

She scanned the room for anyone throwing curious stares her way. Surprisingly, nobody questioned her, or even lifted a brow. She'd pulled it off. Of course, now she'd have to sit and wait until he drank it, and that would be the hardest part.

The clock on her desk ticked by as if it were in slow motion. She kept checking to make sure the batteries were working and realized the hands still moved. Ten minutes passed with her limbs shaking uncontrollably. She sipped Max's stolen coffee. Grimacing, she swallowed the bitter liquid. How could anyone like stuff this strong?

She wrung her hands and watched the conference room down the hall. When the door opened, her breathing accelerated. Max stepped out and she thought her racing heart would kill her.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm, then quickly took another sip of his coffee. Cold. Yuck.

Max walked into his room and sat behind his computer. He flipped open the notebook and glanced at the pages. His hand moved toward the cup.

She inhaled ... and held it.

As he continued to read, his fingers drummed on the side of the cup.

Drink it, damn it!

Finally, he picked up the cup and brought it to his mouth. Her own lips puckered as if trying to help him. He sipped.

Within seconds, he choked and spit out the liquid, spewing it across his desk. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Taking off the lid, he peered inside and sniffed. His curse whipped through the air from across the room.

He jumped away from his desk and grabbed the drink, hurrying down the hall toward the break room, his eyes wide, his face losing color.

Why did he look so panicked?Had he choked? Did he need help this very minute?

Now that he had digested the chemical, she needed to put herself in Max's way. She wanted to be the first person Max saw when the chemical began working.

She pushed away from her desk and tried not to run down the hall. Slowing her steps, she took her time, stopping at Amanda's desk, but her friend was busy on the phone. When Amanda looked up, Charley smiled and continued on.

Her legs shook the closer she walked to the break room. Her hand trembled when she reached out and opened the door. Then she froze. Max leaned over the sink splashing water on his face - a face that looked too puffy to be his.

He turned and gazed her way, his lips now swollen and losing color. She gasped, ran to him, and grabbed his arm.

He coughed. "Call 9-1-1."

"Max? What's wrong?"

"I'm ... allergic to ... chocolate."

The blood left her head, and the room tilted around her. Her heart sank.

What have I done?

Four

She could have killed Max.

Charley paced the floor in her front room, biting down on her lip. Her temper threatened to release at any moment like a volcano spewing hot lava. It was all Damien's fault. If he hadn't suggested switching the drinks, none of this would have happened. Yet, she was the one who asked for his help, wasn't she?

Grrr ... She hated this confusion.

Threading her fingers through her hair, she lifted the bulk off her shoulders. Although her flesh was hot, cool air touched her neck. She marched to the thermostat on the wall. Oops, she'd forgotten to turn up the heat. But right now it didn't matter.

She huffed and turned around. The box of chocolates from the other day still sat on her end table, untouched. Her heart lodged in her throat and tears threatened. Why didn't anything go as planned?

The knock at the door made her jump, and she spun around, glowering at the barrier as if it were something evil. When another knock sounded, she marched over and flung it open.

The man in front of her wore a sexy grin and looked as muscular as Adonis. She glared at him. "It didn't work, Damien."

The light in his gray eyes diminished and his smile disappeared. "What do you mean it didn't work?"

"Just what I said. With a sharp turn, she moved away and continued her pacing across the living room floor.

Damien came in and strode to the couch. When he sat, his relaxed position and nonchalant attitude made her clench her teeth. Of course, he looked too damn sexy, which made her temper raise a notch higher. The red cotton polo-style shirt stretched across his wide chest, and black corduroys fit his tranquil posture too perfectly.

She folded her arms across her bosom. "Why didn't you tell me Max is allergic to chocolate?"

Stretching his arm along the back of the sofa, he tilted his head and looked at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Max is allergic. She pointed to the box of chocolates. "That's the reason he didn't eat any yesterday."

"Really? His voice lifted.

"Don't tell me you didn't know."

His eyes widened. "Honestly, Charley, I didn't know. He shrugged. "I thought everyone liked chocolate."

She stopped in front of him, moving her hands to her hips. "He's allergic."

His brows knit together. "And I tell you again, I didn't know."

"But you were his friend."

"I don't remember him being allergic to anything while we were friends in college."

The tone of his voice was harsh. She cringed, cursing her quick temper. It really wasn't his fault. He'd only been helping.

She exhaled deeply and plopped down beside him on the couch. His hand moved to her neck and massaged her tight muscles. Her first reaction was to push him away, and she stiffened, but the heat from his body blended into hers.

Second by second, her muscles relaxed, and she tilted her head forward to let his magical fingers do their work. Although he relieved some of the stress in her body, the havoc in her mind wouldn't rest.

Why couldn't she get anything right? She'd messed up from the very beginning. And why was Damien suddenly being a sweet guy when just last week she'd been judging him harshly? Life wasn't fair.

"Damien, I could have killed him. Her voice broke, and she fought the remorse threatening to consume her. Guilt spread through her chest, making it hard to breathe ... at least that's what she thought was the reason. It couldn't be that her gorgeous neighbor was just a little too close, his touch a little too personal.

She sniffed. "How am I supposed to melt his heart if I make him sick?"

Damien tenderly squeezed her shoulder. This incredible alpha-male was actually sitting beside her trying to comfort her. He wasn't to blame for Max's unfortunate accident with the chocolate. A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away.

"Hey, he said. "Come here."

She glanced at him just in time to have him wrap her in a tight hug. Once again, she stiffened, ready to resist, but when her cheek pressed against his hard chest, the steady rhythm of his heart relaxed her. Her traitorous body had a mind of its own and slumped against him. But then, being cuddled by this big, strong Italian wasn't that bad ... was it?

"Don't worry, mí amore , we won't mess up the next one."

"What should I do now?"

"Does he know you were the one who replaced the drinks?"

"No."

"Keep it that way."

She lifted her head and peered into his dark eyes. Up this close, she detected the mint scent in his breath, as if he'd just gargled. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid enough to announce my mistake."

His fingers stroked her cheek. The softness in his eyes confused her. Why was he looking at her like that? Certainly different from the come-hither stare he'd always given her. But the look soothed her, and her heart cried out for more.

Realizing where her thoughts had wandered, she pulled away. Damien was not the man she wanted to melt. Max, not Damien.

"How is he doing now? he asked, reaching over to the end table and taking a piece of chocolate from the box then plopping it in his mouth.

"The paramedics gave him a shot before rushing him to the hospital. Everything must have been fine, because he came back to the office a few hours later. The bosses sent him home."

"I'm sorry."

The genuine concern in his gray eyes thawed her heart and removed her anger. Her throat choked with a sob. Crying like a baby seemed like a good idea, but she blinked, fighting the tears.

She shook her head. "I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you."

He grabbed another chocolate. "Here, eat this. It'll make you feel better."

She tried not to smile, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward. How did he know chocolate made her happy?

He brought the piece of candy close to her mouth as if wanting to feed her. Heat consumed her, warming her in the most sensitive places, making her squeeze her thighs together.

Once again, she reprimanded her thoughts for wandering in the wrong direction. She snatched the piece of candy before she was tempted to open her mouth for him.

Damien leaned back in the couch. "But now we need to do something else to get him to notice you."

"Can't you just fix us up on a blind date? After all, you are friends."

He shook his head. "No, we were friends."

"Why aren't you friends any longer?"

"Let's just say we didn't keep in touch after college."

"But couldn't you just - "

"Charley, it'd look better if you attracted him on your own. Besides, guys don't like to interfere with their friends’ relationships. That's a woman's job."

She scowled. But he was right. Guys didn't do things like that. She relaxed into the cushion. "Okay, then, whatever I do to get his attention can't be something that might hurt him."

He chuckled. "No, we won't do that. We'll do something on that list of yours. What's the next way to melt his heart?"

She shrugged. "I'm a little stumped on this one."

"Why?"

"I'm supposed to get him a hard-to-find gift."

"Hmmm... He scratched his chin, his gaze moving around the room. Then it stopped and his eyes widened. "I have it."

"You do? So soon?"

"Yes. This is perfect. He leaned toward her and clasped her hands. "You'll get him a plant."

She drew her brows together. "A plant? She curled her lips in distaste. "Why a plant? Men don't like plants, do they? Then she remembered the plants decorating Damien's front room.

But men who had plants nurtured them, cared and loved them so they wouldn't die. Damien didn't seem the type of man who'd do something like this. His plants looked too well cared for to be just a work experiment.

"What do you usually buy people who are in the hospital? he asked. "Don't you get them flowers?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm certain Mr. Jock-Strap wouldn't go for flowers, so I'm suggesting a plant."

Charley hesitated, biting her lower lip. "And guys like plants, right?"

He cocked his head, his stare still holding hers. "Does he live alone?"

"Yes, as far as I know."

"Then he'll probably need something to decorate his apartment. Look at my townhouse. The plants brighten up the place. I've studied a lot about plants due to the inventions of GIO Products, and I've learned that they do more than just decorate. Some actually send off a scent that will make a person feel better."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"But I have to get him a hard-to-find gift. Plants aren't that hard to find."

He nodded. His finger tapped against the cute little dimple in his chin. "Then don't get him just an ordinary plant. Get him a tropical plant."

She lifted her brows. "A tropical plant? That sounds good."

"I know exactly where you can find one. There's this little shop in the center of Main Street that'll be perfect. If they don't have what you're looking for, they'll order one for you. He stood and held out his hand. "Shall we go?"

She grinned. Should I go with him? It was strange how quickly he came sneaking into her life. Right now he acted like her best friend. But finding a plant for Max was something she wanted to do on her own.

Sighing heavily, she shook her head. "I can do this myself."

He shrugged. "If that's how you want it. His hand dropped to his side, his smile falling with it.

Her heart twisted. She'd hurt his feelings, and although they were still new friends, she didn't want it to be over so soon. She jumped to her feet and reached for his hand, grasping it. "Don't be upset with me."

"It's all right, mí amore . I just have to find a way to pass the rest of my afternoon."

"Promise you won't be mad?"

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I promise. He gave her a wink. "Now go get that plant, and make it a good one."

She widened her smile. "I will."

* * * *

Hard to Find Gifts

"I'll call it the love fern, Charley muttered as laughter threatened to escape her throat. She ordered the plant online, then clicked off the computer. Going to the plant shop Damien told her about certainly helped, but the plants just weren't what she wanted. It had to be eye-catching. A plant that would look good on Max's desk. In a couple of days they'd deliver the pretty green and silver fern. This time she signed her name on the card so he'd know it was from her.

She needed to force away her shyness. It wasn't that hard. She'd tell him the plant was for his quick recovery. After all, she was the one who called 911 and stayed with him until the ambulance came ... of course, she thought he was dying at the time.

Although excitement bubbled in her chest once again, she couldn't control her jitters. Hopefully the next few days would pass quickly. In the meantime, she'd try to talk to Max as much as she could ... well, maybe she'd smile at him instead. Just thinking about talking with him made her stomach twist in knots.

No, talking wasn't wise right now. Smiling was good, safe, comfortable. Baby steps ... just take baby steps.

But the next few days didn't fly as she had wanted. Max and the Sports Producers were out of the office a lot filming a segment with the local basketball team. It was utterly impossible to work without seeing his charming grin and the sound of his baritone laughter. She'd also missed smelling his knee-buckling spice cologne. She found herself walking by his office a lot just to sniff inside.

She finally admitted - she was crazy for him. Or was it just lust like it had been in high school? Maybe for now it was, but once she got to know him, her heart would change.

The day she waited for came, and Max sat in his office as though the universe knew her plan and wanted to help. The brown-uniformed delivery driver brought in a large plant wrapped in yellow cellophane. Her hands shook when the driver handed the plant to Max.

His wide eyes made her heart thump out of control, and the smile he wore when he looked upon his gift made her legs tremble. She moved from the file cabinet to her chair so she wouldn't end up on the floor like warm Jell-O.

People gathered around as Max opened his gift. She couldn't see the plant so she rose from her seat, trying to peek over their heads. Laughter filled Max's room, and her cheeks heated. What's so funny?

She breathed a sigh of relief when everyone finally left and she could see where he'd put the plant. But she gave a sharp inhale when noticing its color. It wasn't the green-and-silver leafed plant she'd ordered; the leaves were dark green and shiny, with only a couple of flowers budding that were white and yellow suffusing in pink.

Then she noticed he had the card in his hand. No. She couldn't let him read it. Not now.

She pushed away from the desk, rose and started toward his office. She tripped over her small garbage can, but didn't care if papers spilled onto the floor. Explaining the plant's switch couldn't be put off one second longer.

She hurried around desks, making her way toward Max's room, and just as she turned the corner, the Senior Editor cut her off by stepping into his office first. She skidded to a halt and groaned.

Doug Edwards laughed, his beer-gut shaking like Santa's bowl-full-of-jelly when he walked in. "What have you got there, Max?"

"Charley sent me this plant. He glanced at the card. "Says, for a speedy recovery ."

Edwards shrugged. "Well, I have to admit, it definitely adds color to your office."

She held her breath, waiting for Max's comment. When he gave the older man a scowl, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doug, it's a great plant. The tag says it's called a Christmas Rose. I've never seen anything like it, and I'm sure Charley went through a lot of trouble to get it for me."

Edwards rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, I bet she searched really hard to find it."

She couldn't stop the smile from stretching across her face. Max liked it. Her heart beat to life again.

Now would be the perfect time to talk to him. But just as she said a silent prayer for courage, Amanda waved to her, motioning her to come over.

Charley shook her head. Amanda pointed to the clock on the wall. Then Charley remembered. They had a deadline. The five o'clock news was approaching fast, with still so much to do. There would be no time to talk with Max now.

She crept back to her desk and turned to her computer. Amanda held out a stack of papers to her. Charley groaned. Yet, she could actually work better now with the plant delivery out of the way. Her mind was clear, and strength had entered her body, taking the shakes away.

So deep in concentration, she didn't see Max walk by until he stopped and turned.

"Hey, Charley?"

"Huh? She glanced his way. Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Oh, hello, Max. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine, thanks. And thanks for the plant. He gave her a wide smile, then strode back to his room.

Beside her, Amanda nudged her elbow against her shoulder. "Way to go, girl."

Once again, Charley's face heated. "Well, I felt awful about the reaction he had the other day from that chocolate."

Amanda tsked. "Yeah, just terrible, wasn't it? And who knew his allergy was that bad?"

Charley shrugged, but kept her mouth closed.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Charley kept busy until quitting time. When Max walked out of his office and turned off the light, he looked her way and smiled. He held up the plant. "I'm going to take this home and put it by my front window."

Her heart leapt. "That's a great place to keep it."

Max had made her day ... and her evening.

She practically skipped out to her car, and when she walked from her vehicle toward her townhouse, the bounce in her step hadn't disappeared. Her face hurt from the constant smile, but she didn't care. Things were working perfectly. She'd have to thank Damien.

Instead of going home, she went straight to Damien's door and knocked. Inside, his musical whistle rang through the house. The tune wasn't familiar, but it didn't matter. She enjoyed the cheerful lift of his voice anyhow.

When he opened the door and looked at her, his smile widened. So did hers.

Happiness overwhelmed her and she couldn't keep from flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. She kissed his cheek and he caught his breath in a quick inhale. His arms wound around her waist, which brought her body closer to his, reminding her once again how incredibly built he was. His musky scent enticed her and stirred flutters in her stomach. Even the beat of her heart quickened.

She withdrew enough to gaze at his face. "Your suggestion worked."

His eyes softened, tenderness evident in the way he looked upon her. Once again, it wasn't the heated look he liked to give - the teasing way he had always devoured her body with his gaze. What could he be thinking? Confusion clouded her mind again.

He pulled her into his apartment and kicked the door closed with his foot. "What happened? His voice was deep ... sexy.

A spark started in her chest and spread throughout her body, fire consuming her quickly. She pushed away from him and took a step back. His tender look had disappeared, replaced by a familiar one. Lust twinkled in his gray eyes, stirring warmth in her chest. She scolded herself for reacting this way.

Shaking away the perplexing feelings, she clamped her hands and held them to her stomach. "They delivered my plant to Max's office today and he liked it."

Had his smile just wavered? No, it couldn't have. He was excited for her, wasn't he?

"Really? I thought you bought it the other day?"

"No, I ordered it. The delivery driver brought it today. She pouted for a brief moment. "Although, it wasn't exactly the plant I'd ordered, he liked it anyhow."

Damien's black eyebrows rose. "Really? What did you order?"

"The plant I ordered was called Hunter's Robe."

"What did they send?"

She shrugged. "It was a weird looking plant with shiny green leaves, and a strange white, yellow, and pink flower. She chuckled. "It was definitely tropical."

"Do you know what it's called?"

"Christmas Rose, I think."

His eyes widened, then he bit his bottom lip. "Christmas Rose, you say?"

"Yes, why? Have you heard of it?"

He nodded. "If it's the plant I'm thinking about... He paused and covered his mouth.

Is he hiding a smile?

She smacked his shoulder in a playful punch. "Damien, tell me. What do you know about this plant?"

"Charley, honey? I think you gave him a ... a ... a poisonous plant."

Her heart hit the floor, her smile switched to a frown. "What?"

He turned to walk into his den. She followed, her mind frozen. On the far side of the wall sat his computer desk. He bent over the machine, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Within minutes, he'd found a site for poisonous plants. Another click displayed the picture of the Christmas Rose.

"Is this it? he asked over his shoulder.

"Oh, my God, she muttered. "I've done it again."

Five

Color faded from Charley's face and she brought her shaky hands up to cover her cheeks. Tears swam in her eyes, wrenching Damien's heart. Her body swayed, and he reached out to clutch her shoulders, steadying her.

"Charley, it's going to be all right. We'll just call Max and tell him - "

"No. A sob tore from her throat. "We can't call Max. He can't know I made a mistake ... again."

"You didn't. The mistake was made by the shop."

"You don't understand. I can't mess up with Max. He's supposed to be different. She pulled away from him and sank into the swivel chair by the computer, her blank stare focused toward the screen.

He knelt beside her and ran his fingers over her knee covered by her tan slacks. "Although the plant is poisonous, I'm sure he won't eat the leaves or the flowers. That's the only way it can hurt him."

She leaned forward, her gaze moving across the screen as she read the Internet article. "It also says it may cause a rash."

He sighed and swiped his fingers through his hair. "True, but I don't think he'll be playing with the leaves, either."

"But what if - "

"Charley, please stop worrying."

She swung her head around to face him, her eyes wide. "We have to do something."

"What do you suggest?"

Her face remained passive while she stared into his eyes. His chest constricted from the sadness touching those blue orbs. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her ... and yet the sexual yearnings of his body urged him to do more. But he wouldn't. Not this soon. He wouldn't be able to stand a rejection from her.

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "We could go get it from his house."

Damn, she was cute, even when she wasn't trying to be funny. He smiled, despite the warning in his heart. This wasn't the right moment to be humorous. "And what would you say to him when he greets you at his door?"

"Well ... I was thinking ... we could wait until he leaves, then get it."

He blinked and shook his head. "I don't think I heard you right. Are you talking about breaking and entering?"

The corner of her mouth raised in a grin. "Maybe."

"You are serious. He chuckled.

She lifted herself from the chair and paced the length of his front room. Her bottom lip pulled slightly between her teeth, doing the little nervous nibble he liked seeing.

"Actually, I am serious. She stopped and met his gaze. "I need to get into his house while he's away and take the plant."

Damien stood and folded his arms. "You've forgotten one thing mí amore . How are you going to accomplish this? He took two steps and stood in front of her. He cupped her chin with his hand. "First off, do you know where he lives?"

The color in her cheeks darkened. "Yes."

He wasn't going to ask how she knew - not yet, anyway. He nodded. "Second, do you know his schedule? How will you know when he leaves his house?"

"I thought about watching him ... a stakeout, so to speak."

"Hmmm ... and who'll be your partner in crime while you're ransacking his house? Who'll watch out for you?"

Her eyes softened and she smiled. She released his hand from her chin and held onto it. "You."

How did he know she was going to say that? Yet, the hammering in his heart gave him the answer. Crime or not, he'd help her. Damn, she owed him big-time now, and he'd find a way to collect.

"Fine. He smiled.

She squealed and threw her arms around him. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her berry scent. The same smell that drove him crazy.

He didn't want her to leave his embrace, but she pulled away.

"Let me go home and change first. I think we should both wear dark clothes, don't you?"

He chuckled. "You're really getting into this, aren't you? He shrugged. "I suppose we'll look right at home when the police come to arrest us."

She slapped his shoulder in a playful action. "Would you stop thinking negative? This is going to work. I just know it."

An hour later, they drove up to Max's house. Only one light lit his porch. Charley leaned toward Damien as she looked out his window. Her breasts brushed ever so slightly against his arm. Closing his eyes, he held in a groan. He gripped the steering wheel to keep from pulling her body against his.

"This is perfect. His house is dark and his car isn't in the driveway."

Her soft voice pulled his from his naughty thoughts and he looked at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. She sat back in her seat. "Now drive over there. She motioned her hand to a spot on the street shadowed by the large oak tree.

He drove the car alongside the curb and turned off the engine. At midnight, not a lot of neighbors were out and about. He thanked his lucky stars for the privacy of the night, especially the half-moon.

Once his seatbelt was unfastened, he turned and took hold of her hands. Skin, so soft, teased and beckoned him to stroke his fingers over her wrist and up her arm in search of other soft places on her body.

"Are you certain about this? His tone was lower than he'd wanted and he inwardly cursed the fact that his libido was spiraling out of control.

"Positive."

He sighed. "Then let's go, Bonnie ."

Her eyebrow rose, as did a corner of her mouth. "I'm right beside you, Clyde ."

Hand in hand, he tiptoed along side of her as she led the way. When she crouched low, he crouched. When she stopped, so did he. Finally, they stood with their backs against the side of Max's house near the front room window.

She tilted her head, looking at the glass, too high for her to see into. She pursed her lips. "Great. How are we supposed to peek in now?"

He had an idea, a torturing one for him. She'd have to put a certain area of her body next to the back of his head. Yet there was no other way. Excitement leapt through his body at the thought.

He knelt on one knee in front of her and motioned his head over his shoulder. "Climb on."

Her eyes widened. "Climb on your shoulders?"

"Yes."

She walked around him, hesitant when she reached out to touch him. "I ... don't know how."

"Just step on my knee and swing your other leg over my shoulders. Haven't you been on a horse before?"

"Once as a child, but - "

"There's no difference. Hurry, you're wasting time."

When she placed her black tennis shoe on his knee, he helped her with the other leg, swinging it around his neck. The moment she was in place, he groaned. Damn! Warmth from between her legs speared his skin and made him hot. Very hot!

As Charley adjusted herself on his shoulders, he clamped his hands around her legs and moved over to the window.

"Can you see it? he asked with a tight voice.

"Not yet."

He gritted his teeth. This was agony. So close to her and yet knowing her heart lay elsewhere. Her fingers clutched his head so she could steady herself, but it didn't hurt. The only thing that hurt was the swollen plumbing trapped in his tight jeans.

"I think I see it, she whispered.

"Where is it?"

"By his television."

"Is it by a window?"

"Yes, but really, Damien, I don't see how we're going to get it without breaking in. Too bad this wasn't the middle of summer. At least a window might be open."

Funny. Despite it being mid-December, he couldn't be any hotter. The heat of her body kept the chill away.

"Damn, he hissed.

She wiggled against him and he held back another groan, squeezing his eyes closed. Images of Charley naked floated through his mind. They would be so good together...

"Let me down."

He snapped out of his dream and lifted her legs off his shoulders. As she slid down his side, the light material of her jacket didn't protect her breasts from brushing against his head, his shoulders, and his arm. He sucked in a breath. How could fate be so cruel?

He set her on the ground and fisted his hands to keep from touching her again, knowing if he did, it would be in a purely erotic way. More than anything he wanted to kiss her to distraction. He wanted to push her up against the house with is body and devour her mouth with his tongue until she couldn't think of anyone but him ... him and only him.

He cleared his throat. "So, what do you have planned now?"

"I don't know, but I know I have to do something. I can't let him keep that plant in his house if it's poisonous. If he touches it, he'll get a rash, and God forbid if he should try and taste it. She shivered.

"Only an idiot would eat it, Charley."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "You know what I mean."

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "I think you'll just have to walk up to his door and explain to him the shop mixed up the plants."

"No. I can't."

Worried lines creased her forehead as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. God, how he wanted it to be his mouth nibbling on that lip, his tongue stroking with hers while he cradled her body against his. How he wanted it to be his name she called out. Not Max's.

"Why can't you do that? he asked, his voice deeper than expected.

"Well ... because I'll have to talk to him."

"So, talk to him."

She shook her head. "It's too soon. She grasped his hand. "You go talk to him."

"Honey, I'm not the one who sent him the wrong plant."

She scowled. "It was by mistake."

"Exactly, so I don't see a problem."

Her tempting mouth drooped in a frown, her sorrowful expression tugging at his heartstrings again.

He shrugged. "Maybe I can pick the lock to his front door."

Her eyes widened. "Can you do that without getting caught?"

He smiled and stroked her cold cheek. "Aww, you do care about me."

She rolled her eyes. "Damien, please concentrate. What are we going to do?"

From up the street, the roar of a car engine boomed through the silence of the night. He grabbed Charley around the waist and pinned her body with his against the side of the house. This was the position he'd wanted them in a few minutes ago ... except their lips should be joined. But now was not the time for his luscious thoughts. Especially when the car pulled into the driveway. He cursed.

Just his luck. Max was home.

The increased pounding of his heart threatened to make more noise than the vehicle. Max couldn't spot him. Not now. It was too soon.

After the car lights turned off, he ducked and tugged on Charley's hand, leading her around the corner to the large bush bordering Max's property.

She gave a sharp inhale. "Damien, that's Max."

"I know."

"Do you think he saw us?"

He crouched low, pulling her with him. "Shhh, be quiet."

She snuggled against him, her arms tightening around his upper arm. "Can you see anything?"

He peeked over the bush. "Only shadows. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk. Soon two figures appeared. Damien's interest perked. "Somebody's with him."

"Who is it?"

He waited until the clicking of woman's high-heeled shoes touched the cement. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the slender feminine figure. When Max and the woman stopped underneath the porch light, Damien breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the woman he'd expected. Of course, he hadn't seen that particular woman in a long time, but the betrayal was still as raw as if he'd seen them together yesterday.

Beside him, Charley tugged on his arm. "Answer me. Who is it?"

"A woman, he said softly.

Her body stiffened and his heart clenched. It hurt to see how much this bothered Charley.

"Is it his mother? she whispered.

Damien switched his attention back to the couple at the door. The curvy young woman certainly didn't look like anyone's mother.

"Well? Charley asked, her voice rising.

"Unless he was conceived when his mother was five, I seriously doubt it."

She released a deep sigh, and another pain shot through his chest. Why couldn't he get her to like him in that way?

"So, she's an older woman? she asked.

"Can't exactly tell, but she might be."

Damien waited until the door closed and another light glowed inside the house. Standing, he brought Charley with him. He hooked his arm around her shoulders and pulled her next to his body as he crept back to the window.

Her arms remained around his waist as if she didn't want to let go. The softness of her cuddled against him was almost his undoing. He tightened his jaw. Easy boy. Now isn't the time.

"Damien? Can you see what's going on?"

Since he was taller, he didn't have to climb on anything to see inside. Right away he spotted Max and the woman ... and realized what they were doing, and he couldn't keep from smiling. No longer was Max the victim in Charley's stunt-gone-haywire, but his date who stood by the flowered plant, stroking the leaves as she pressed her nose in close to the bud for a sniff.

"Damien, Charley repeated. "Can you see what they're doing?"

"Yes, and it's not good."

Once again, Charley's body stiffened. "Is she in his arms? Are they kissing?"

"Well ... not exactly."

She tugged on his black Levi jacket. "What exactly are they doing?"

"He's showing her his..."

"His what? Her voice squeaked in irritation.

"His plant."

She slapped his butt. The warmth of her mark didn't stay long, and disappointment washed through him.

"The woman is looking at his plant? Her voice held a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes. She's touching it, smelling it, and pretty soon, she'll get sick."

Charley chuckled, but her laughter grew, so she turned and buried her face in his chest. Closing his eyes, he tightened his arms around her and breathed deeply, loving the feel of her warm breath on him. He stroked her hair. "I think you should go in and break it up."

She lifted her head. "Break it up? This is exactly what I want to happen. I want to be his new love interest, not that woman."

A lock of hair had fallen over her forehead, so he swiped it back behind her ear. He smiled at her. "You're not being very nice."

She shrugged. "All's fair in love and war, right?"

He cocked an eyebrow. Was the real Charley showing through? He rather liked this vicious, yet very passionate side to her. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"So come on, let's go home. I'll tell him about the plant tomorrow."

He laughed. "What if Max starts touching and smelling the plant?"

"That's a chance I'll have to take, huh?"

He gazed into her intoxicating eyes. The moonlight touched them, making them sparkle like diamonds. Her tongue slid out and moistened her lips.

What had this woman done to him? His libido was still in an uproar from her body being pressed against him. Especially when he pictured her naked, lying in his new bed.

He cursed his wandering thoughts and shifted his stance. "Come on, let's go before we're caught."

* * * *

When Max arrived at work a half hour late the next day, looking like he had the chicken pox and wore blue lip balm, Charley knew it was time to tell him about the plant. But once again, she didn't dare. It wasn't her fault. Would he think that way even after she explained?

She tried to force herself off the chair and away from her desk, but her feet remained rooted to the floor. Luckily, her fingers still worked - which was why they created email.

Pulling up his email address, she typed him a quick note. Max, the shop I purchased your plant from just contacted me that there was a mix-up. Instead of the fern I'd ordered, they sent you a poisonous plant. Please use caution and don't touch the yellow and pink flower. Also, don't keep the plant indoors as it might cause nausea. Please forgive me for this mistake. I've already contacted the owners of this company to complain. Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you. Your friend always, Charley.

She re-read her email before sending. Closing her eyes, she massaged her forehead, praying he would understand and forgive her. But what if he didn't? She snapped her eyes open and stared at the computer screen. No, that wasn't an option. He had to forgive her.

With a deep sigh, she decided to let fate fall where it would. If Max forgave her, that would be her sign to proceed with the remaining eight ways to melt his heart.

Her phone rang and she jumped. Placing a hand over her crazily beating heart, she answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, mí amore ."

"Damien?"

"Either that or Santa Claus."

His deep sexy voice stirred emotions in her she didn't exactly want right now. Just like what happened to her last night. The main purpose for going to Max's house was to get the plant, but she found herself enjoying Damien's company much more than she'd expected, especially the warmth of his solid body.

"Hi, she replied, breathless.

"Well? How did it go? Did you talk to Max?"

What's wrong with his voice? Too soft and deep from what she remembered. Had he caught a cold while helping her spy last night in the frigid winter temperatures?

"Yes and no. Yes, I let him know about the plant, but I haven't talked to him."

"What did you do this time?"

She chuckled over the rise in his tone, sounding like a father scolding a child. "I emailed him."

"What did you tell him?"

"Just the truth ... that the store mixed up the plants and sent him the poisonous one. I told him what effects he might get, but by looking at him today, I can see he's already figured that out."

Laughter pealed from the other end. "You don't sound very upset."

"Of course I'm upset, but ... well ... he deserves this, I think."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because he took out the wrong girl last night."

His laughter became stronger, and she smiled.

"He'll learn, she told him.

"You're awful, Charlene Randall, just awful."

When she hung up, she was still smiling. Lately, Damien had been making her grin like a damn idiot. Good thing they were only friends.

She drew her eyebrows together. Friends ?

Were they friends? She relaxed. Yes, he was her friend. He was no longer the sexist playboy next door, but the man she could confide in. The man that didn't mind taking the chance going to jail with her.

Her smile stretched. Regardless of what could have happened if they'd been caught, last night had been fun.

She extended her neck, releasing the kinks, then turned back to her computer to get some work done. Through the screen, a shadow appeared behind her. Seconds later, Amanda's voice made her jump.

"I have it all planned out."

Charley swiveled in her chair and faced her co-worker. "What do you have planned?"

"How I'm going to hook you and Max up at the office party."

A nervous fluttering grew in her stomach, and her hands moistened. "Oh, really?"

Amanda's smile spread from ear to ear. "Do you want to hear about it?"

Several months ago, her co-worker had helped with another soon-to-be boyfriend, and although the results were disastrous, it was fun while it lasted. "Sure. This ought to be good for a laugh or two."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "You'll be thanking me when it's over. I promise."

The more Charley listened, the faster the rhythm of her heart became. Amanda was serious. Charley was going to speak to Max, and there would be no excuses this time.

Six

I'm going to puke!

Charley stared at her pasty face in the mirror and frowned. Her twisting stomach wasn't cut out for catching a man - a hunk of a man for that matter. And she had to really try not to mess things up.

She pinched her cheeks until a raspberry color appeared in stark contrast and made her look like she had a fever. Maybe she did. She placed a hand on her forehead. No. Her skin felt normal. But, if she wasn't sick, then why did her body tremble?

Taking careful, steady steps so as not to disturb her stomach, she made her way back into her bedroom and lowered herself face down on the bed. No way could she go to the company party tonight. But Amanda expected her to show up and had given her hope for an enjoyable evening getting to know Max. Her co-worker even mentioned she had a plan to ruin his date for the party. Apparently, Amanda knew Max's date and could sabotage his evening. A confident Amanda actually had her believing it'd happen. This might be her night.

But now ... she couldn't. What if she passed out? She'd look like a fool. It'd be high school all over again! Maybe the queasiness had nothing to do with her tense nerves. What if something was seriously wrong with her?

Yeah, like I have the chicken-out disease.

She frowned. Okay, so talking to Max frightened her to death. But damn, that man was way out of her league. She'd faint if he turned his beautiful blue eyes on her. She couldn't lose consciousness at a company party. As shy as she was, there'd be no way she'd be able to show up for work after that. Plain and simple, she just wouldn't go to the party.

Could she give up so soon? She'd definitely be the joke of the office. Her whole purpose for trying the article's 10 Ways with Max was to see if she could keep him longer than three months. And hadn't she wanted him since high school? Wasn't it about time that Charley went after what she wanted?

She stared at the ceiling and the churning in her stomach slowly settled. She took deep breaths through her mouth to ease the rolling tension. As her eyelids grew heavy, she closed them, but a knock sounded at the door and yanked her back to awareness. Her heart beat to life, turning her stomach again.

Who could that be?Amanda wouldn't come to her townhouse to pick her up.

"Charley? Are you there?"

Damien.

She rolled her weak body off the bed and carefully walked to the front door, her hands splaying over her stomach, hoping to keep it from upsetting again. Shaking, she released the latch and unlocked the door. "Hi."

His eyes widened as his gaze slid from the top of her head to her bare feet. "What's wrong with you? Don't you have a party tonight?"

She groaned and stepped away from the door, weaving her way back to the front room and the couch. She plopped down and sighed. "No, I had a party tonight."

He walked inside and shut the door. "Have you caught something?"

"Yes."

He stopped. "Is it contagious?"

"Sure, if you're a chicken."

His dark eyebrows rose. "I don't understand."

He came closer until his knees bumped the edge of the couch. She peeked at him from beneath half-closed lids. Once again, he looked as if he'd walked straight from the new clothes rack. Today he wore sharp-creased gray trousers and a cream-colored shirt that hung looser on him than most of his shirts. With the three buttons he'd left undone, she caught a glimpse of his muscular chest, sprinkled lightly with dark hair. For all she knew, he could have been an eighteenth century nobleman off the front cover of a romance novel.

She covered her eyes, hoping to ignore his sexy image, but mental pictures from the other night floated through her mind. His body had been so enjoyable to lean against, and when she'd climbed on his shoulders, the back of his head had nestled between her legs and caused tingles she didn't want to think about. Even now, a warm stirring came from that place.

His hand touched her forehead, and she jumped.

"You don't feel like you have a fever, he told her.

"I'm sick because I'm scared of going tonight and making a fool out of myself."

His chuckle made her sneak a peek at him from between her fingers. His gray eyes sparkled. " Mí amore, you have nothing to worry about. Once Max gets to know the real you, he'll fall head over heels."

She lowered her hands and scowled. "I doubt it."

The corner of his lips quirked in a knowing grin as he bent over and grasped her arm. "All you need is a little encouragement."

"No, all I need is a fairy godmother."

He laughed. "Will a fairy godfather do?"

"I guess, since you're the closest thing I have to it."

He grabbed her hands, and she allowed him to pull her up. Surprisingly, her stomach didn't protest this time.

"I assume you've already taken a shower. He leaned into her and sniffed her neck.

Warmth spread through her body and she had to hold herself back from leaning into him and enjoying it. Goose bumps ran over her arms and she giggled.

"Yes, you have, he said. "You smell like berries, but I could get you a perfume from my work that compliments your body."

She cocked her head. "You think GIO products are better than what I use?"

He shrugged. "You'll never know unless you try them."

He pulled her into the bathroom and positioned her in front of the mirror. Her pale skin shone like a beacon, making her blue eyes appear much larger. Ugh!

"First thing we need to do is let down your hair. He pulled her cloth-covered scrunchy free from her ponytail. A piece of hair came with it, and she yelped. Frowning at his reflection in the mirror, she rubbed the sore spot on her head.

He picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. The gentleness of his actions made her close her eyes and relax. Soon his fingers threaded through her locks, massaging, stroking warmth back into her scalp. Oh, he's good.

When he took her by the shoulders and turned her around, she looked at him. Up this close, his eyes appeared darker than she'd first imagined, almost black.

He pushed her over to the toilet seat and made her sit. Thankfully, the lid was down or she would have fallen in.

"Now be still and let me do my job."

Once his fingers made contact with her hair, she closed her eyes again. He used gel and hairspray, ratted and pulled, but she still enjoyed the tender way he relaxed her ... just like the other night when he worked on her with that new GIO product. She sighed. Wonderful.

Fluttering sensations moved throughout her body, making her remember the night with him outside Max's house. Mentally, she shook her head. Think about Max.

She imagined Damien's hands were Max's. What would Max wear tonight? Would he talk to her, dance with her, take her outside to walk in the moonlight? Would he kiss her? Should she make the first move? No. He'd definitely have to do it.

She could almost feel the texture of his blond hair as she twirled her finger around a strand. She could almost smell his musky scent of all male. She envisioned him unbuttoning his shirt, her hands running lithely over his skin. Her heart quickened at the image. But then just as quickly, Max's face and body were replaced with Damien's. Now her hands burned with fervor while skimming over his bare chest. Hmmm ... so tight.

Damien's eyes would be closed as she touched him, while a satisfied grin pulled at his mouth ... a mouth that she wanted to kiss and consume with passion like never before.

"Now that's done, let's move on."

His voice made her dream disappear and she almost let out a disappointed moan. He stepped away. Forcing herself back to reality, she opened her heavy lids in time to see Damien snatch up her make-up case. He pulled it over closer on the counter.

She blinked and shook her head. "You're going to do my make-up?"

He folded his arms across his massive chest and tilted his head. "You don't think I can do an adequate job?"

"I didn't say that."

"You certainly implied it. He grinned. "Do you trust me?"

"I let you do my hair, didn't I?"

He laughed. "Close your eyes and let me help."

Once again, she let her eyelids drift closed and she concentrated on the sense of touch ... his touch. Soft. Gentle. Warm. Very intoxicating and hypnotic.

He used the sponge to dab on her foundation. The brush breezed across her cheeks when he applied the blush, although she didn't think she'd need it tonight. It took a little longer for him to stroke the eye shadow across her lids and use the eyeliner.

She tried to imagine Max again - this time his lips touching everywhere Damien's hands did. But as before, it was Damien's dark gray eyes disturbing her thoughts and causing heat to spread throughout her body. His masculine scent of spice lingered in the air. She wanted to bury her face in his neck, rub her lips along his collarbone while her hands caressed his body.

"Here. I'll let you do this."

She jerked back from his voice and snapped her eyes open. She cursed herself for letting her thoughts get carried away, once again. What was wrong with her, anyway? Why couldn't she focus on Max instead?

He held the tube of mascara in front of her. She stood and faced the mirror - then froze. Wow. Good thing he wasn't charging her. Looking this good probably cost a fortune in the salons.

She leaned closer to the mirror and thickened her eyelashes with the mascara brush. When she was finished, she turned to face him. He took out a lip pencil and glanced at her lips.

"Pucker for me, baby."

She laughed.

"That's not a pucker."

"Then quit making me laugh."

He was adorable - cute enough to cuddle. Yup, he'd make some girl really happy when he decided to settle down.

Therein lay the problem. Would he ever settle down? Probably not. By the amount of women that frequented his bedroom, he was definitely not the marrying kind.

Relaxing, she puckered for him and stayed still while he outlined her lips. When he took the tube of lipstick and brought it to her mouth, she relaxed her lips and let him apply it. His eyes narrowed as he worked, but his face softened.

"Perfect. He stepped away, giving her a cocky grin.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "You're boasting."

He clasped his hand around hers and pulled her into the bedroom. "Now let's pick out a dress."

"Nothing too fancy. I don't want to stand out."

"Oh, but I think you should."

She grimaced. She was afraid he'd say that. "Really, Damien, I don't think - "

He stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. A scowl took over his handsome features.

"Now listen, Charley. Do you want my help or not? I thought we were trying to get Mr. Jock-Strap to notice you."

"Jock Strap? She snorted.

"Yes. That's my nickname for him."

She chuckled. "If you say so. But I won't tell him you think of him that way."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't. So, do you want my help? He held up his hands.

She shrugged. "Well, that was the idea."

"Then you're going to have to wear what I tell you."

She expelled a heavy breath, her heart racing once again. "All right."

He wandered into her walk-in closet and sorted through her hanging dresses. She stepped just inside the room to see which one he'd pick. When his hand stopped on the glittery red satin gown, her heart sank and she couldn't contain the groan. She hadn't worn it since her mother purchased it for her two years ago for Christmas.

He brought it over to her. "I like this one."

"Then you wear it. She folded her arms across her chest.

"It's not my size. Now go put it on."

"Damien, I can't - "

"No, you won't . There's a difference between the two words."

"But you don't understand. That dress is ... is..."

"Is what? He held it up, his attention on the bodice. "Revealing?"

"Exactly. The slit up the skirt goes way past my knee, and the bodice - She drew an invisible line down the front of her tee shirt between her breasts. "I don't have enough cleavage to show off, anyway."

His smile widened. "This dress is perfect for tonight. Go put it on."

She huffed. "No."

"If I have to dress you myself, I will. He stood firm. "Charley, we don't have long to argue. The party starts in half an hour."

"But - "

"No buts. Just go put the dress on."

When she didn't move, he grabbed the end of her shirt and pulled it up. Before it reached her breasts, she clamped her elbows to her side to keep the material from riding up any farther. Her heart pounded out of control and her nipples hardened as desire shot through her. She glared at him, yet the softness illuminating in his gray eyes made her want him to undress her.

"I mean it, Charley."

She swallowed hard and mentally shook away those thoughts. "Fine! Give me the damn dress."

She yanked it out of his hand and marched into the bathroom. Grumbling curses under her breath, she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the evening gown. There was a small hook in the back to hold it together, leaving most of her back bare. Long straight sleeves gloved her arms, but the bodice wasn't as tight. It practically hung off her chest. She wasn't blessed with large breasts. They'd be hard to find if anyone tried to look. She tugged together the deep opening down her bodice.

Sliding her leg out, the slit displayed almost her whole thigh. She groaned. Nylons were definitely needed tonight. She glanced at her bodice and pulled it together again. Too bad she couldn't wear a bra.

She had to admit, though, the red dress brought color to her face. The untamed hairstyle Damien had fixed looked good on her. It didn't fit her personality, but now she looked extremely sensual, so the bold dress matched perfectly.

Max might actually take notice. She smiled wide.

"You're taking too long, Damien called from the other room.

"Keep your briefs on. I'll be out in a moment."

"Actually, I'm a boxer's man."

She groaned. He shouldn't have said that. Now she could picture him in nothing but a silky white pair of boxers ... and damn if he didn't look hot!

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out. Damien's gaze moved over her slowly, resting only seconds on the deep cut of the bodice before continuing down over the rest of the dress.

He whistled and shook his head. "Damn, woman. You're stunning."

Her cheeks burned. "Thanks. She held out her hands away from her body. "But this is your creation."

Grinning, he stepped over to her and touched her chin, his thumb gently stroking the skin. "Just make sure you're back by midnight. You'll turn into a pumpkin if you aren't."

She laughed, then threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. "You're the greatest. Do you know that?"

"Yes, but I get rather bored telling it to myself all the time."

She placed a light kiss on his cheek. His body stiffened and he sucked in his breath. Fire shot through her, touching every nerve ending in her body, especially when she could tell he enjoyed it. What am I doing?

She quickly pulled away. "I owe you for this. Her voice shook.

For a moment, his eyes had darkened the way she liked, as if he had experienced the same spark of desire as she had. But then he cleared his throat and the expression disappeared.

"Are you ready? His voice was lower than before.

"Let me just put on my nylons and I'll be ready."

"Now remember, men love compliments."

Suddenly, she recalled the Internet article. Give a man compliments. "That's good. So what do you think I should say?"

"Tell him how sharp he looks in his suit. Tell him how the color compliments his eyes. Tell him you like his smile, enjoy hearing his voice when he's on the news, and most importantly, tell him... His grin widened, but he remained quiet.

"What? she urged.

"Tell him what a nice ass he has."

She slapped his arm, but laughed at his remark. It was so close to the truth. "You're awful."

"No really. Guys like it when women tell us we have a nice ass. He laughed. "Okay. I'm going now. He kissed her cheek. "Have a good time at the ball, and if you need a designated driver, you know my number."

She shooed him with her hands. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't drink."

He left her bedroom and she finished getting ready. Her heart pounded in a different rhythm now, but she didn't know if it was the exchange she'd just had with the Italian Spice, or because she was going to force herself to talk to Max tonight.

She breathed slower, convincing herself the excitement bubbling inside her was for Max. In less than fifteen minutes she would see Maxwell Harrington's reaction to the new Charlene Randall.

* * * *

Give him compliments

These damn heels made her ankles wobble. The last time her legs shook this bad was last summer's earthquake that had trembled for what seemed like hours.

Charley walked into the Richmond Hotel and headed toward the ballroom. She handed her coat to the coat-check lady, while sounds of the party drifted around her, clinking glasses and voices raised in laughter. Smells of cinnamon and pine assaulted her senses, which made her sneeze.

She followed the Christmas music coming from a room down the hall, the sounds growing louder the closer she came. Humming to the familiar tune, she stepped inside. People from her office filled the space, but there was no sign of Max. Did he have to work? No. Amanda assured her he'd be here.

"Charley? Is that you?"

She turned toward Amanda's voice. Her co-worker stood amongst a cluster of other employees, all holding drinks. Charley gave them her best smile even though her lips twitched in a nervous gesture, and walked their way. "Hi, Amanda."

"Oh, heavens. Look at you."

Charley's cheeks heated. "Yes, I'm aware I'm out of character, but - "

"You look fabulous. Amanda grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed. "You're going to knock ‘em dead tonight."

Charley let out an uneasy laugh. "Oh, let's hope nobody dies. That wouldn't be a good thing, especially with my luck."

She scanned over her friend's attire. Amanda always looked great in dark colors, and the silky forest green dress fit her personality. Although the dress covered most of her neck and arms, the satiny material was still sexy. A hint of black lace and panties was visible from underneath the thin material.

"So, Charley, have you seen Max yet?"

"No. Have you?"

"No."

Charley frowned and clasped her hands against her stomach. "I hope nothing has happened to him."

Amanda laughed and waved her hand through the air. "Oh, you know Max. He's got to make a grand entrance. She reached out and touched Charley's sleeve. "But I think you've taken that special moment away from him. You look damn good."

Charley placed her hand over the deep opening in her bodice, hoping it hid her almost non-existent cleavage. "Thank you. She shrugged. "This is my neighbor's creation."

Her friend's eyes widened. "Really? Is he gay?"

Charley snorted a laugh. "He's far from gay. He just works at GIO Products, so he knows all about a woman's needs."

Amanda shook her head and whistled softly. "He's good."

From behind her, someone called out Max's name. She sucked in a breath. Had her heart stopped beating, too? Slowly, she turned, and as her gaze rested on his form, she exhaled a sigh.

Max looked as if he'd just walked off a magazine cover. In the latest style of clothing, his navy blue jacket and matching trousers practically shimmered. He naturally took the spotlight. His white straight-collared shirt complimented his tanned skin, and when he smiled at his friends, her heart raced. What could she do to get him to look at her like that?

But best of all ... he was without a date. Amanda's plan must have worked.

He stood not more than ten feet away. She longed to walk over and talk to him, but the more she stared at him like a rock-star groupie, the more she lost her nerve. Just like high school.

He moved away with his friends to the punch bowl. Damn! Missed my chance, again.

Amanda nudged her arm and Charley glanced over her shoulder. Her co-worker nodded in Max's direction. "Go over and speak to him."

Charley scowled. "I can't. I wouldn't know what to say. It's not like we chat on a daily basis."

Amanda rolled her eyes heavenward. "You may not know him personally, but you know Fred and Gary. Act like you're going over to talk to them."

Charley's heart hammered against her ribs like a tom-tom. Her throat tightened and she couldn't swallow. It's that chicken-out disease again. But what did she have to lose? If she didn't go over, she'd be upset with herself. And if Max shot her down, at least she'd know he wasn't interested.

Besides ... this wasn't high school anymore. The woman she'd turned into was more self-assured. Right?

She nodded to Amanda. "Wish me luck."

Taking a deep breath, she pulled back her shoulders and began her walk across the room, trying her hardest not to look like the coward she'd always been. Max's deep baritone voice rang out in laughter, and tingles shot up her spine.

Give him compliments. Tell him he looks nice. His hair does look good tonight. And yes, God help me, I still like his ass. Thanks a lot, Damien.

When she drew near, Max's gaze touched and vibrated through her. His attention roved over her, from the top of her wild hairdo to the toes of her squishy heels. She couldn't breathe. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

She was going to faint. But no, she couldn't. Too embarrassing ... but then again, if she did, he'd come pick her up, take her in his arms and hold her against his body. Since her lungs didn't work, he'd have to give her mouth-to-mouth. The thought made her lightheaded. But it was just a thought, right?

She groaned and closed her eyes. Dizziness overwhelmed her and her stomach lurched. Please no! Not here. Not now. Not with Max nearby watching.

Before she knew what was happening, the room tilted and her legs gave way beneath her. Her head connected with the floor like a bowling ball starting its run down to the pins.

Sounds faded except for the ringing in her ears. Someone slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, lifted her, and lightly tapped her cheek.

She raised her heavy eyelids and focused on the person who held her. Max! Wishes do come true. She smiled.

Worry etched a crease in his brow. "Are you all right? His voice reached through the bells chiming in her head.

She nodded, ignoring the pain shooting through her temples.

Give him compliments. Tell him he looks nice. His hair looks good ... his butt -

"Max, thanks... She paused, trying to think of a compliment. "Uhm ... did I ever tell you ... I think ... your butt has an intoxicating smile?"

That didn't sound right. Had she said it wrong? Why weren't her mind and mouth cooperating tonight?

Max's eyes widened, and snickers exploded from the crowd who had gathered. Oh gads! Why hadn't she noticed the others?

Think!She had to say something to cover herself. "Uhm ... I mean, your smile is outfitted in style ... I mean your butt looks stylish. She shook her head and inwardly groaned. "I think you really look good tonight."

Open mouth - insert foot.Heat flooded her cheeks, spreading quickly down her neck. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. She struggled to sit, but he tightened his hold.

"Charley, I think you hit your head pretty hard. You might want to rest a second before standing."

She squeezed her eyes tight. Where's the nearest hole? Maybe if she thought hard enough, she'd be back home and all this would be a bad dream. This can't be happening. Mentally, she tapped her heels together three times. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. Then she realized her squishy heels were not ruby.

From the whispers around her, more people had gathered. Amanda's voice boomed loud and clear. "Here, Charley, drink this. You'll feel better."

Without opening her eyes, she reached blindly for the drink, then curled her fingers around the glass stem. The chill of the flute soothed her hot skin. Another hand helped raise the glass to her lips, strong fingers guided it to her mouth.

The arm behind her shoulders lifted her. She peeked underneath her lashes just as the glass touched her lips. The strong scent of alcohol assaulted her senses mere seconds before the liquid slid into her mouth. She didn't drink alcohol, yet spitting out the vile stuff wasn't a good pick-up tool when flirting with men either.

She swallowed hard, trying not to gag. The liquid burned her throat, cutting off her air. Gasping, she sat up, clutching Max's arm as she continued to choke.

"Oops, Amanda said, giving Charley an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Charley cleared her throat and glanced at Max, who thankfully, still held a concerned gaze on her. His forehead creased. "Are you feeling better?"

She shook her head. "Now the burning in my throat is competing with the throbbing in my head."

His expression relaxed into a grin. "You've got your sense of humor back. That's good."

Her heart picked up rhythm. He thinks I have a sense of humor? Cool!

She looked around at the large crowd and groaned. Her hand massaged her temple. "I'll be fine in a minute."

"Here, let me help you over to the table."

The moment she'd dreamed about for weeks came when Max's arm slipped down her back and hooked around her waist. Hesitantly, she circled her arm around his neck, holding him close as he helped her off the floor. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her weak legs buckled and she stumbled into him, her face pressing into his neck.

Oh, he smells good - so incredibly male.So like Damien. Did they buy their cologne from the same place?

He pushed her back slightly and helped her stand. Together, they walked over to the nearest table, and he guided her onto a chair.

He crouched beside her, his hands resting on her knee. Warmth spread from that spot throughout the rest of her body. "How do you feel now?"

"A little better, thanks."

His gaze bore deep into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"You still think my butt has an intoxicating smile?"

He grinned, and heat consumed her face again. She closed her eyes, covered her face with her hands, and groaned. His chuckle made her peek at him between her fingers.

"That's okay, Charley. His hands grasped hers and pulled them away from her face. The touch warmed her again. "I appreciate the compliment no matter how it came out. I have to admit, nobody has ever said that to me before."

Through her embarrassment, she forced a smile. "Well, anytime you want to hear something out of the ordinary, you know where my office is located."

"Yes, I do. He laughed. "You know, I haven't seen a fall like that since the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team took the cup."

"Oh, thanks. I feel so much better."

He stood. "Take it easy from here on out, okay?"

She nodded and watched him walk away. Her stare automatically dropped to his rump. Giddiness sprang to her chest. It's working!

Seven

Charley nibbled on another carrot, not caring if she looked like Bugs Bunny or not. She leaned her hip against the buffet table then quickly pulled away before the table came crashing down and the food decorated the floor in a huge mess. Her night had been full of blunders so far, and she didn't want to chance another one.

Out on the dance floor, smiling couples moved together with the rhythm of the music. Others wandered from group to group, visiting. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Everyone except her.

She'd been left alone. Even Amanda had abandoned her, chatting with a group of editors on the other side of the room. Her co-worker batted her long eyelashes and let out a husky laugh from time to time. Why can't I be as carefree? And to think it didn't even matter if Amanda wore a wedding ring.

She turned her attention from her friend's crowd and searched for Max. He was in another woman's arms, dancing in the middle of the ballroom. The bubbly blonde who worked upstairs in sales had her head resting on his shoulder, a wide, satisfied smile pasted to her mouth.

That should be my body pressed against his while we dance.But no, she had to embarrass herself and faint, just because he smiled at her.

I'm an idiot.

She reached for another glass of punch, but on second thought took the champagne and sipped. Max hadn't looked her way since he'd left her at the table. Perhaps she should faint again, just to have him come to her rescue.

She scowled. How pathetic.

The musky scent of a man's cologne teased her senses before she heard the baritone voice behind her.

"You're not going to catch men if your mouth is pulled into a frown, mí amore ."

She gasped, jumped, and spun around, almost spilling her drink down her dress. Her eyes could have popped out of their sockets for as wide as they opened.

Damien stood nearby, looking twice as yummy as he had earlier this evening. Wearing a dark colored suit jacket and trousers, he appeared to be going to his own elaborate function. "What are you doing here ?"

He shrugged. "Just passing by."

As she scowled, she folded her arms and tilted her head. "Since when do you pass by this way?"

"Since I couldn't stop wondering how your evening was going."

Heaving a big sigh, she shook her head. "Not as well as I'd wanted. She looked over her shoulder at Max still dancing with the blonde who'd obviously had work done in the chest region. "As you can see, he's over there, and I'm here."

Damien leaned to the side, looking around her toward Max. He snickered. "You know, they must put a lot of makeup on him so he can appear handsome on the television. He doesn't look anything like he does at ten o'clock."

She slugged his shoulder. "Be nice. You're insulting the next man in my life."

He frowned. "Sorry."

"So, really, Damien, what are you doing here?"

"It's like I said, I came to check on you, perhaps give you a little nudge in the right direction."

She shook her head. "You could shove me clear across the room and it wouldn't help."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Sort of."

His gray eyes widened. "And? What happened?"

"Instead of making him melt, he made me melt - all the way to the floor."

A smirk crossed his face, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand. "You don't say."

She hit his shoulder again. "Be nice."

He nodded and dropped his hand. "So what do you want me to do?"

She glanced at Max. "Well, since you're my fairy godfather, could you go sprinkle a little love dust on him?"

"I'll do one better. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her next to him. "Let's make him jealous, shall we?"

She widened her eyes for the second time in five minutes. "You? She rubbed her head, thinking she heard wrong. "I'm supposed to make him jealous with you?"

His black eyebrows creased in a scowl. "Don't you think I'm handsome enough?"

"Well ... yes ... but..."

"Then let's try, shall we?"

"What about ... uhm ... well, you know. She paused, hesitating on how to say it without sticking her foot in her mouth. Men like him just didn't do things like this unless they wanted something in return. Perhaps he was just being nice.

"What about your reputation?"

"What reputation?"

"Well ... guys like you only go out with..."

"With?"

"With ... Barbie dolls."

He chuckled as he led her out to the dance floor. "Oh, they've got nothing on you, mí amore . Besides, you're my friend. I'd hate myself if I didn't try to help."

She smiled and hugged his arm. "Thanks, Damien. You're the best."

"Yes, I know."

When she tried to link her arms around his neck, he stopped her by taking one hand in his, letting the other hook over his shoulder. It surprised her to see him dance this way. This was how her parents used to dance. But that was all right. Although he looked like a body-builder, he danced with graceful ease, sweeping her around the floor. She hadn't danced this way since her mother taught her as a young girl. The more Damien swung her around like Ginger Rogers, the wider her smile stretched.

She glanced over his broad shoulder as they passed Max. His eyes were wide, glued to her and Damien. Her heart accelerated.

The song ended and a slower one began. Damien kept her in his arms in the same hold, but pulled her body closer. She rested her cheek on his chest, breathing in his seductive scent. Max smelled this good, too. Well, not as good, but close.

"Don't look now, Damien whispered, "but lover boy's watching."

She giggled. "Really?"

"Yes."

She raised her head and looked up at Damien. "So now what do we do?"

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek, then down her neck. Goose bumps rose over her skin and she shivered. Waves of heat filled her body, and she fought the urge to close her eyes and tilt her head back, allowing him to create sensations like that again, and maybe he'd take his lips over her body further.

"That tickles, she said softly.

"Keep still. It's working."

"Why?"

"Because he's coming this way."

She tried not to let anticipation shake her to death, but once again, her legs felt like Jell-O on the verge of dissolving. Why couldn't she remain in control? Why couldn't she just pretend Max was Damien? After all, Damien was a great-looking guy. Damien even had a better body and smelled sexier. So then why didn't she act like a squirming schoolgirl around him?

"Excuse me. Max's voice, so close behind her, made her catch her breath. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

Damien stopped moving, but kept his arms around her. What a great friend. It was all she could do to keep from sighing aloud. Why was Damien the one melting her heart at the moment?

She concentrated on Max and tried not to think about Damien the way she had been. "Hi, she said in her most seductive voice.

Up this close, Max looked better than he had earlier. Of course, back then, her vision had been a little blurred.

Max glanced from her to Damien. "Giovanni. It's been a long time."

Damien nodded. "Certainly has."

"Do you mind if I cut in? Max motioned his head toward Charley.

She looked at Damien, who for some reason didn't appear as happy as he had a minute ago. His lips tightened and a crease appeared in his forehead.

"That's fine. He let go of her and walked away. A chill entered her body and the secure feeling she'd experienced in his arms had disappeared.

She wanted it back.

She dismissed the thought. Must be the champagne.

Max didn't pull her into the ballroom hold, but slid his arms around her waist instead. She linked her arms over his shoulders. Right away, she noticed the difference between the two men. Max, a little shorter, was also not as broad through the chest. Although nice, Damien's body still fit better next to hers.

At least Max wore a smile as he gazed into her eyes. He watched her, and only her. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Was a hair out of place? Do I have carrot in my teeth?

"How are you feeling? Max began, the tone of his voice just as sweet as his smile.

"I'm much better, thank you. She chuckled. "I don't know why I passed out earlier. Must have been hungry."

He nodded. "That'll happen."

She fell quiet again, as did he. The urge to speak choked her, and nothing came to mind for them to discuss. If Damien were here instead, this wouldn't have been a problem. Under her breath, she cursed her confused thoughts.

Max glanced over at the punch bowl where Damien stood, and she followed his gaze. Damien's somber stare remained on her, and her heart clenched. Why does he look so miserable?

"How do you know Damien Giovanni? he asked.

"He's my neighbor."

"What a coincidence that you know him. We were friends in college."

She turned back to Max, opened her mouth to comment, but hesitated. He'd asked her to dance out of jealousy? How did Damien know Max would act this way? It must have something to do with the past Damien wouldn't talk about. Now she was even more curious. She'd have to think up a plan to get him to open up to her.

"I didn't know that, she replied, hoping he wouldn't know she was lying through her teeth.

Max glanced back at Damien. "How long have you two been dating?"

Should I lie again?"Not for very long. Well, that wasn't a complete lie.

"I see he hasn't lost his talent for sweeping the ladies around the dance floor."

"Really? He used to do this back then?"

"Yes. The arms around her waist tightened. "But you dance very well, too."

She laughed. "When I was a girl, my mother taught me the lessons she learned while taking ballroom dancing. She smiled in remembrance. "After the housework was finished on Saturdays, she'd pull out the ballroom records and crank up the volume. We'd dance right there in the front room."

He chuckled with her.

"I remember being so embarrassed. I'd close the curtains so if my friends walked by, they wouldn't see."

"You were an excellent student. His gaze softened. "You dance very well."

"Thank you."

He nodded, but then silence poured over them, once again. Why did he act this way? If she didn't know better, she'd think he was shy. Nah! That was her specialty.

He cleared his throat. "I wanted to thank you for your email. I wondered about that plant."

Heat flooded her cheeks again, and she prayed her face didn't resemble a beacon light here in the semi-darkened room. She didn't want ships crashing through the building, mistaking her for a lighthouse.

"I was so upset when I discovered the plant had been switched. I wanted to tell you right away, but circumstances made it impossible. She shrugged. "It was a rather busy day, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I hope no real damage was done."

He shook his head. "It explained why I'd gotten a rash and felt nauseated."

"I swear, I didn't know."

He nodded. "I'm aware of that, and I don't blame you one bit."

She let out a heavy sigh. "That's a relief. I thought you'd blame me for the mix-up."

"No. I understand."

The song ended. Her chest grew heavy just thinking she'd have to step out of his arms. Why couldn't they stay like this all evening? Then again, why couldn't he feel as good as Damien did in her arms? She cursed her thoughts again.

"Thanks for the dance, she told him, hoping to keep him by her side a little longer.

"No. Thank you."

When he turned to walk away, she quickly touched his sleeve. "Hey, Max, are you here by yourself?"

He chuckled. "Although my date canceled at the last minute, I really wouldn't consider myself alone."

"Well ... um ... would you like to sit with me for a few minutes and have a drink?"

He glanced over her shoulder, and then looked back at her. "I don't think Damien would appreciate that very much. He grinned and squeezed her hand. "But I'll catch up with you later."

"Promise?"

He nodded then turned and walked back to his friends.

Later! He's going to find me later.But her enthusiasm dropped when she remembered he'd only danced with her because he was jealous. Should she continue with the little lie? If she didn't, would Max give up?

Damn.She shouldn't have led Max to believe Damien was her boyfriend. Funny, the 10 Ways didn't mention anything about making a man jealous.

* * * *

"Another drink, please."

Damien scowled at Charley's order as she sat beside him on a stool at the bar. Why was she drinking herself into oblivion? He shook his head. "This is your sixth glass of champagne."

She shrugged. "So? The bartender handed her the drink and she quickly tipped it back and gulped it before Damian could stop her.

He grabbed her elbow. "Damn it, woman. You don't drink, or have you forgotten? He ground the words out slowly to get it into her sodden brain so she wouldn't make a scene.

He was told Charley had been making a scene since he had first walked into the party. Not only was she dressed to kill, she now staggered into people like a runaway train.

"Damien, leave me alone, she slurred, pushing his hand away. "I'm waitin’ for Max to come rescue me."

"Come on, honey, it's time to take you home."

"No. She glared at him. "He promised to dance with me again."

Damien sighed. "I think Max has already left."

She swung her head so fast she unbalanced and slid off her stool. He slipped his arm around her waist to hold her straight.

"Really? She tilted her head to look at him, her sad eyes pleading for honesty.

"Yes, mí amore , really. I saw him leave half an hour ago."

Her brows drew together. "What was I doin'?"

"You were probably ordering another drink."

She glanced back at the bartender who had his gaze locked on her. He nodded at Damien's comment.

"Well, that's a grand idea, she slurred. "Drinks for everyone. She held up her empty glass and would have fallen backward if he hadn't been holding her up.

"Come on, you've had enough. He pried the glass from her hand and passed it to the bartender.

She huffed and a frown marred her face. "You're no fun."

He shook his head. Why hadn't he stopped her before she got this bad? But the truth was he liked the way she draped her body all over him. He enjoyed the glassy look in her eyes when she gazed at him, and he especially liked being able to hold her when she couldn't stand by herself.

As they left the party, she called out goodbyes to her co-workers. By their wide-eyed expressions, they weren't used to seeing Charley this way. He, too, couldn't believe she'd get stinking drunk. Although - he leaned in and sniffed her neck - she really didn't stink at all. Her berry fragrance caused a fluttering sensation in his chest. Especially now.

Damien helped her to his black Porsche and buckled her in the seat. Her body went limp. Had she passed out? But when he climbed in, she giggled and reached for his arm, cuddling to his side.

"Did you see the way we danced, Damien?"

"Yes, he grumbled. He had watched every second of the time she was enfolded in Max's arms, and at the time he'd wanted to go break up the cozy moment. He wanted to be the man holding the beautiful woman. He wanted to be the man Charley gazed up at with desire laced in her eyes.

"Max isn't as good a dancer as you, but he still knew how to move his body. She growled. "Oh, baby. He's certainly an adorable man."

Damien clenched his hands into fists. "If you say so."

He moved her aside to adjust his seatbelt. She rolled her head on the headrest and looked at him.

"You really need to find someone special, you know that?"

"Yes, Charley. Finding someone special ... now that was a talent he'd never possessed. Someone to have a good time with fit his lifestyle much better. But for some reason, lately he'd been thinking he was tired of his carefree ways - and Charley was a darned special woman.

"It's not good to go from one woman to another, she continued. "You need that special someone to love ... forever."

He dared to meet her gaze. Big mistake . Her heavy-lidded eyes were like erotic moonbeams. Her lips slightly moist, tempting him to taste her. She stretched her long legs, and the slit up her dress fell away from her shapely thigh, making him want to run his hands over it.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

Diverting his stare, he looked out the windshield and started the car, then pulled out of the nearly empty parking lot. The heat of her gaze was still on him. What could she be thinking? Certainly not the same thoughts running through his mind.

"Damien? Her voice dropped low, seductive.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever kissed one of your friends before?"

He glanced at her with wide eyes. "Hell, no. I'm not that kind of guy."

She scrunched her forehead, but after a few seconds she smiled and giggled. "No, I didn't mean your guy friends. I meant the women you consider your friends."

His heart hammered against his ribs. His throat tightened, and he couldn't breathe. What was she getting at? "Yes. He winked. "I've kissed you before, or have you forgotten?"

She flipped her hand through the air. "Not that kind of a kiss. I mean a kiss shared by lov-ers."

He locked his attention back to the road. It wasn't a good idea to look at her, especially when she acted this way. She didn't know how much he wanted to do that very thing. He wanted to kiss her - kiss her until he was the only man in her head - but he worried it wouldn't end until he made love to her. Especially the way he felt now.

"Charley, why don't you close your eyes and relax. We'll be home shortly."

"Damien, she whined, "why are you avoidin’ my question?"

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, turning his knuckles white. Her suggestions were adding fuel to the already stoked fire ... making him imagine things he shouldn't think about. Especially with as intoxicated as she was right now. "Because I don't see the point in discussing this."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"No, not as embarrassed as you're going to be if you keep it up."

She chuckled again. "Damien. She poked him in the side and he jumped. He grinned at her childlike antics. "You can talk to me about anythin', you know."

"I know."

She jabbed her finger in his side once again, but this time he didn't jump. Her hand fell to his thigh. Now his heart took turns with his arousal in a jumping match.

He covered her hand with his and squeezed. Pressing on the gas pedal, one thought filled his mind - getting her the hell home and fast.

"Then why don't you want to talk to me?"

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"I want to know about you and Max."

"I don't feel like discussing him, but thanks for the offer."

Her fingers rubbed his pants. He masked a groan by clearing his throat. Her touch was too close to something growing larger by the second. He pressed his foot harder to the gas pedal. Why in the hell am I catching all the stoplights?

Curling his fingers around her hand, he stopped her from touching any more of his leg. She sighed and he glanced over at her. A sweet smile touched her lips. Her eyes were closed. She must be thinking about Max. He wished he could take those thoughts away and switch them with images of him instead.

When he drove up to the townhouse, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, she'd fallen asleep. But when he pulled her out of the car seat and adjusted her weight against his body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

"Hmmm ... you smell so good, she mumbled.

"Thank you. His voice tightened.

She weighed less than he'd thought she would for being so full of liquor. Usually, people were dead weight, but not Charley. Still light as a feather.

When they reached her townhouse, he leaned her against the wall as he searched through her purse for her keys. After opening the door, he lifted Charley again and carried her to her bedroom.

He sat her on the edge of the bed as he pulled off her coat. As soon as it was removed, she flung back and sprawled out on the pink comforter, resting her arms above her head. The deep opening in her dress had widened, her creamy flesh beckoning to him like candy. Would she taste as sweet? He chuckled. Of course she would, especially because she smelled so heavenly.

A smile still spread across her mouth, her eyes closed as if in a dream. Should he throw a blanket over her and leave? Or should he do the gentlemanly thing and make her more comfortable?

His decision maker leapt in his trousers. Swallowing hard, he shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it over the single chair in her room. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, but just as he reached out to touch her, he stopped.

What am I doing?He couldn't take advantage of her in this condition. The way his libido had worked into overdrive let him know he wouldn't be able to touch her without wanting more.

He pulled back. No, he couldn't. His willpower had suffered enough for one night. Removing her clothes was out of the question. Instead, he took off her heels and set them at the foot of the bed.

In the front room he found a blanket flung over the back of her couch, so he brought it back into the bedroom. Gently, he covered her body. He stared at her for a moment, wishing he could confess his true feelings. But he'd wait to see what happened between her and Max. There was no way he wanted to compete with Max ... again. Nor would he be able to stand the rejection when she didn't choose him.

Before leaving, he bent and kissed her forehead. Her body jerked and her eyes flew open.

He smiled and stroked his finger along her jaw. "Good night, mí amore ."

When he withdrew, she grasped his hand. "Don't leave me."

He shook his head. "Honey you're home in bed. It's all right."

"No. I don't want to be alone tonight."

His lungs must have stopped working, because it was difficult to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. "You'll be all right."

"Not if you leave."

"Charley, I've got to go home."

With his other hand, he trailed his fingertips over her cheek. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and his heart came to life again, beating an uneven rhythm in his chest. He traced her lips. They parted. Her fragrant breath touched his skin.

Turning, she propped herself up on her elbow. The opening in her bodice hung away from her chest, giving him a larger exposure of cleavage. Silently, he groaned.

Charley pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed each fingertip. Her sweet lips brushed against his skin. Trickles of delight ran up his spine, and his staff responded with excitement.

"Charley... His voice was too deep to be his own. But no other words escaped, just quick breaths.

She shook her head. "I know you want me. She took his hand and placed it between her breasts. Heat shot through him from the silkiness of her skin, awakening something deep inside he wanted to keep hidden from her.

"Touch me, she whispered huskily.

His gaze dropped to his hand. God help him, he wanted to touch her so bad it hurt. Somebody stop me! Because he didn't think he could do it himself.

Eight

Damien wanted to cup her breasts and stroke his thumbs across her nipples. He wanted to hear her moan and writhe beneath his touch. But this wasn't right. Yet his body and conscience were not cooperating. His hand had a mind of its own and shook when he slid it inside the opening of her bodice.

Her skin was hot, as hot as his, and when he cupped her bare breast, it fit perfectly into his palm. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and released a soft moan.

The pleasurable sigh plunged through his body, desire igniting even stronger. He wanted to make more of those sounds come from her. Leaning over her, he trapped her on the bed, his torso covering hers.

He ran his thumb across a hardened nipple. It tightened more. She opened her eyes and met his stare. They were so dark he couldn't see the pupils. But right now he didn't want to. All he wanted was to feel her mouth beneath his.

She pushed her fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes, enjoying the magic her caress aroused in him. When she tugged his head down, he looked at her. She stretched her neck to press her lips to his.

A deep groan ripped from his throat as he crushed his mouth over hers. He pressed her deeper into the mattress. Instantly, her tongue darted out and danced with his. He nipped at her bottom lip, sucking it into in his mouth. She copied his actions.

She clenched handfuls of his hair as he fondled her breast. When she arched to give him more, he took it, kneading and rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb. He pinched lightly and she gasped into his mouth.

Reaching behind her, he unfastened the dress and pulled the material down to uncover her chest. He broke the kiss long enough to gaze upon her creamy mounds, shaped to perfection and more beautiful than he'd imagined.

He cupped both breasts and she arched again. Bending, he touched the tip of his tongue to one taut nipple. A hoarse moan sprang from her throat and she pulled his head closer. He surrounded one nipple with the wet heat of his mouth. Alternately, he lapped and sucked the rigid peak then moved to the other and repeated the process. Her moans built, her breaths escalating as her body undulated and her hips rose off the bed. This woman was so sexy, so hot, and his arousal couldn't take much more. Already his body burned.

Breaking the kiss, he covered her body, chest to chest, hip to hip. Her smile was lazy when she reached to unbutton his shirt. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her hypnotic eyes. With every button that popped open to reveal more of his chest, her passion-laden eyes darkened.

He shrugged out of the garment and let it drop to the floor. She ran her hands over his heated skin and he closed his eyes, groaning. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest. He inhaled sharply. Her tongue traced circles around his aroused nipple.

She pulled back and looked at him. "I want you."

And he wanted her, badly.

He rolled off her to finish removing her dress. She helped him with her nylons, then she wiggled out of her black-lace panties. He couldn't stop his attention from being drawn to the small patch of hair at the juncture of her legs. Gingerly, he touched her there and she spread her thighs for him. He trailed his fingers down her soft folds and slipped one inside. So wet. So hot. So sexy.

His groan overrode hers.

She threw her head back on the bed and arched her hips off the mattress. Was she offering? God, he hoped so.

He stroked her swollen wetness, and she instinctively moved her hips into the rhythm. Bending over her, he kissed her tight stomach and dipped his tongue to her navel. Her hips bucked faster. He brushed his mouth across her skin to her pelvis, breathing in her musky scent. She released a ragged sigh and separated her thighs even more.

He had to taste her. Had to feel her against his lips. Had to smell her aroused scent and feel her womanly muscles throbbing around his tongue as he drove it into her.

Withdrawing his fingers, he pressed his lips to her wet heat, and lapped gently. Her body stiffened as she cried out and clutched the bedspread.

His thumbs stroked across her swollen flesh and his tongue soon followed. Her convulsions started deep and spread outward as she let out little cries of delight. Her tremors came quick, encouraging him to find his own release. But when she sighed out a name, he stopped.

Max?Did she just say Max? He couldn't be sure, but...

Of course she thought he was Max. The sports anchorman had been the man on her mind. Max was the man Charley wanted. Not Damien.

Pain like no other grabbed his chest and tightened, then spread throughout his body. He jerked away, his heart dying slowly as he recognized the satisfied grin on her face.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her body relaxed as she drifted into sleep. He moved off the bed and pulled the blanket over her naked body.

If she thought she'd made love to Max, he'd let her believe it.

* * * *

Intense throbbing in Charley's head roused her from a deep sleep. She didn't have to open her eyes to know the sun shone a brilliant path through her window onto her face. She groaned and clutched the edge of her pillow, rolling away from the light. There, that's a little better. But the pounding still raged. From the back of her mind came a nagging feeling as if she'd done something wrong.

Through her fierce headache she recalled the party, the dance with Max, and - oh, all those glasses of champagne. Her stomach rolled in protest and she groaned. She'd throw up soon, she just knew it.

Thank heavens for Damien, always there to take care of her, always there to give his aid whenever she needed, and always there...

In a flash, last night's events came crashing through her fuzzy memory. She sat upright, opening her eyes as shock vibrated through her. Her stomach lurched before there was time for another thought to penetrate her blurred brain. She yanked back the blanket and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to pay homage to the toilet.

She clutched her head, then her stomach, and then tried holding them both. Had she heaved up every organ in her body?

She grabbed the towel hanging on the wall and pressed it to her mouth. Slowly she stood, her legs as wobbly as a newborn calf's. The beat in her head increased, but at least her stomach had calmed. She rinsed her mouth out at the sink before weaving her way back into the bedroom. She headed for the sanctuary of the soft mattress and warm blankets. Cool air touched her skin, and she glanced down at her naked body. She groaned before falling face first onto the bed.

What have I done? Seducing the very man I've been avoiding? What was I thinking last night?

Damien had let her do it, knowing she wanted Max. Why?

She climbed underneath the covers and curled into a ball for warmth.

I had sex with a womanizer.More importantly, she had sex with her friend, her neighbor, the man she had no intention of getting physical with.

But she remembered the way his hands had worshipped her, the way his mouth had suckled her breasts and between her legs. The intense beating in her head moved to the lower region of her body, reminding her how incredible the tingles had been when they spiraled through her. He'd been so gentle, so loving, and so damn good.

That still didn't answer her question. Why didn't Damien stop things? He knew what condition she was in. Didn't their friendship mean anything to him?

Had he been drunk, too? He'd only had a few glasses of champagne - that she remembered anyway. But she couldn't think of another explanation.

She moaned and pulled her knees to her chest. Would he speak to her today? Would he remember everything as she had? Would it damage their friendship? More importantly, had she been good enough for him to change and be the man she wanted?

She brought her thoughts to a halt. Why did she care if she'd been good? Could it be because she desperately needed to know if she was the reason for all of her failed relationships?

The longer she lay in bed, the worse her head throbbed. She needed to get up and eat something, but just thinking about food turned her stomach.

Once again, her thoughts wandered back to last night. Her hazy memory wouldn't let her recall how Damien had looked naked, but she did remember how muscular his chest had been. Even now her hands tingled as she thought about touching the soft black hair sprinkled over his magnificent chest. So why couldn't she remember when he finished undressing and made love to her? He'd given her an earth-shattering climax, yet she didn't know if he had completed his own release, or if she had satisfied him. She swept her gaze around the room looking for condoms. None.

She groaned and held her head. Why can't I remember more?

The pounding in her head grew until it sounded like the walls were crashing together. Or was somebody at her front door? She pulled the pillow closer to her ears, hoping whoever it was would go away and take that noise with them.

Footsteps echoed on the hard wooden floor in her front room. Her heart stopped, so did her breathing, and she listened closer. Had someone broken in?

"Charley?"

She sighed heavily. It was Damien. But then the rhythm of her heart took on a different beat. Excitement, worry, and fear of bringing up the incredible night, all in one horrendous staccato that pulverized her body.

As his footsteps drew nearer, she pulled the blankets up to her chin. Silently, she laughed. What did she have to hide that he hadn't already seen and kissed? Her face burned from the memory.

Damien knocked on the bedroom door before he peeked inside and smiled at her. "So, you are awake."

"Barely. Her voice squeaked out the whisper.

He held up a glass filled with red foamy liquid. "I hope you don't mind, but I used your keys to open the door. I've brought something for your hangover. He walked into the room.

"What is it?"

"A concoction to make your recovery smoother."

"Did you make it?"

"Yes. It's a family secret that's been passed down through the generations."

"I take it you've had a lot of drunks in your family."

He chuckled and stepped over to the bed. "Do you want it or not? I promise within an hour you'll feel much better."

She nodded and sat, then realized she was still naked. Keeping the covers underneath her arms, she made sure the only thing he could see were her bare shoulders and neck.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tilted the glass to her mouth. "Here."

She placed a shaky hand over his and guided the drink to her lips. Tingles burst through her. Touching him again was wonderful. With her eyes closed, she swallowed. The foam rose instead of heading down her throat, and she gagged. She pushed the drink away. "Yuck."

He laughed. "It's not the best tasting, but it will help. Drink all of it."

She grimaced and shook her head. "I don't want to throw up all over you."

"You won't."

She also didn't want to have to make a mad dash to the bathroom stark naked. She held up her hand. "Please, no more. I'd rather have a headache."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them. The hooded look in his warm, gray eyes bothered her, especially when it wandered down her neck to her shoulders and bounced back up to her eyes. He smiled again.

"Do you need help getting in the shower?"

Her heart hammered, creating a greater throb in her head. Maybe she should take the drink. "No, I'm fine."

Damien glanced around the room, then back at her. "So, when did Max leave?"

A breath caught in her throat and she couldn't stop her eyes from widening. Max? Why did he think Max was here?

She shook her head. "Max wasn't here."

"Yes he was. He was with you last night."

A greater ache pounded her head. Had she really brought Max home last night? Had it been Max she'd made love to instead of Damien? Her stomach churned.

"Damien, don't play games with me. I don't remember being with Max last night, unless of course, it was at the party."

His brows drew together. "Really? Do you usually sleep naked?"

Did I dream everything?Maybe she didn't have sex with Damien. That would certainly relieve her confusion. Then why did her fantasy seem so real? Why could she still feel his hand cupping her breast, his fingers plucking her nipples? And why in the hell could she still feel his tongue doing crazy things to that hypersensitive spot between her legs?

"Um, no I usually don't sleep naked. She scratched her head. "But then again, I was pretty drunk last night. Anything could have happened."

He chuckled and stood. "True. He placed the drink on the stand next to her bed. "Well, I'll leave this here if you change your mind. I've got to get to work. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. "Aren't you lucky today is Saturday?"

She nodded. "You'll never know how lucky I am. I don't exactly feel like answering questions from people at work today."

He winked, then turned and walked out. She watched his shapely butt until he disappeared into the other room. Scowling, she slammed her fist into the mattress. What's wrong with me? Why am I dreaming about letting a Casanova like him satisfy my sexual needs?

* * * *

Damien gave a polite nod to the people greeting him when he walked out of the elevator and towards his office. The lab technicians at GIO had been working on a new product, but Damien didn't care right now. All he could think about was last night. He couldn't get the image of Charley out of his mind, naked on the bed and writhing in passion. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd kissed, the way she'd tasted, and the way she'd moaned.

He also couldn't stop thinking about the name he thought he'd heard from her during the height of her climax. Mistake or not, she'd been thinking about Max.

Yet ... according to her this morning, she hadn't. She didn't even recall bringing the sports anchorman home. So why had she called out his name? Damien would give anything to hear Charley sigh his name in passion.

Could he have heard wrong? Could she have sighed out something else besides the name Max?

Doubt it.

He walked into his office and closed the door. The first thing on his agenda was to fix a stiff drink - to match the other stiffy in his pants that sprang up whenever he thought about Charley. He stopped in front of the golden-trimmed glass liquor cabinet and poured himself a Scotch. Just as he lifted it to his lips, the office door opened.

"Damieno? The strikingly beautiful woman's tone was natural, sweet and caring. "It's too early to start drinking. There are a million things we need to do, and don't forget about the board meeting with our investors today at three."

He chuckled and sipped his drink. "Which explains why I need a drink so early in the morning."

Shaking her head, she walked over to him and took his glass away. "You're going to need an alert mind. She placed the drink back on the counter. "This can wait."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you care, Mother."

She smiled. The crows’ feet around her eyes only enhanced her beauty. Her gray eyes sparkled. "What a charmer you are."

He laughed and stepped behind his desk. "Did Michelle get those documents to you?"

"Yes, she brought them by the house two days ago."

"Good. I'd hate to think I was paying her good money for nothing."

"Stop talking about your baby sister like that. She's a hard worker and you know it."

He raised an eyebrow. "She's only a hard worker if her goal is flirting with single young men."

His mother flipped her hand in the air. "What do you expect from a nineteen-year-old? In fact, why aren't you trying to catch somebody's eye?"

"Too busy. He sat in his brown leather swivel chair and opened his briefcase.

"That's not what I heard."

"What did you hear, Mother? he asked without looking at her. For years now, stories had circulated around the office. None were true, but they were entertaining, nonetheless.

"I heard you've been hitting on your neighbor."

He snapped his head up and caught her knowing smile.

"Is this true? she asked.

"Who told you that?"

"Michelle. She said you were all dolled up last night just to help out your neighbor at her office Christmas party. She said she'd never seen you look so refined before."

His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat quickened. He let out an uneasy laugh. "Michelle is making up stories again."

She narrowed her eyes. "So you're saying you don't have a neighbor?"

This was all he needed - his mother to know he had the hots for Charley. "I do happen to have a neighbor who is a woman, but she's just a friend. He shrugged and glanced down at the papers he took out of his briefcase. "She thinks of me as her friend."

His mother let out an exasperated breath and slapped her hands on his desk. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.

"Damieno, you've been lying to another woman, haven't you?"

"Mother - "

"Why haven't you told her the truth?"

"I've told you before. I'm protecting myself from fortune hunters."

"You're also throwing away your social life."

"I have a social life."

She arched a brow. "Sure, with women who think of you only as their best friend. Now tell me, what kind of life is that?"

"It's a life with no heartaches, that's what it is."

Her expression relaxed, the tense lines around her mouth disappearing. "You can't let one heartache control your whole life."

He took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten. "Mother, you're meddling again."

"But Damieno, I just want you to be happy. She reached over and squeezed his hand. "You'll be thirty-three in two months. Don't you think it's time you settled down and raised a family?"

"I do, but I'll settle down on my own time, and the children will come when I'm ready for them, and not a moment sooner."

She stood straight and folded her arms across her chest. "You're upset with me again."

He exhaled slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. "No, I just wish you'd stop lecturing me. I've heard this speech before. I know what I need to do."

She nodded, then turned and walked back to the door. When her hand touched the knob, she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and speaking of fortune hunters, Liza Scapolli is back in town."

The name struck him like a hammer, inflicting painful wounds in his chest and bringing back memories he didn't want. It'd happened seven years ago. Why was the pain as fresh as if it'd happened last week?

His mother walked out of the office before he could ask more questions. But he really didn't care what Liza and Max had done to him - at least he didn't want to care.

Nine

The next morning, Charley kept her eyes downcast as she hurried through the front doors of Channel Nine's building. Rushing by, she glanced at her coworkers out of the corner of her eye. None of them looked at her as if she'd grown two heads, thank heavens.

When she reached her cubicle, she slid into her chair. It rocked to one side and tilted. On the brink of plowing face first into her desk, she grabbed the edge and steadied herself. Phew . She peeked from underneath her lowered lashes. No eyes had turned her way, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

Within minutes, other workers entered the building. As always, they dragged their feet to their desks for a Monday ... all except one. Max. When that man finally entered there was a bounce to his step and his face glowed. His smile could have melted an iceberg.

Right away, his gaze moved to her desk. She gasped. He raised his hand and waggled his fingers, his smile widening.

She grinned ... at least she hoped her expression was pleasant since shock pretty much vibrated through her body, but she returned the wave. He chuckled before turning and heading toward his room.

What in the hell was that all about?She was almost afraid to ask. Why had he looked at her that way? Unless...

She caught her breath and almost choked. Her heart thundered in her chest and she placed her hand on it to keep it from jumping out.

Hadshe slept with Max? Damien seemed to think she had. Her neighbor acted as if he hadn't kissed her body himself and thrilled her like no man had ever done. But she didn't dare jump to assumptions. Not yet. Not before she talked to Amanda.

After an hour passed of taking down information about pressing news from around the world, the office buzzed with chatter. The employees of Channel Nine had left their desks and seemed more concerned with socializing. Some gathered inside cubicles, others wandered outside for their smoke-break. It wasn't hard to find Amanda. Charley rolled her eyes. That woman always stood in the mist of a group of men.

Charley hurried over and yanked on her elbow. When Amanda turned, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Charley."

Why had Amanda greeted her that way?

Am I still in my pajamas?

She glanced at her clothes to double check, running her hand over her mid-section. No, she was dressed in a white blouse and gray slacks.

Maybe I forgot to brush my hair.

She reached up and touched the side of her hair, then tucked a stray lock behind her ear. Everything seemed to be in order. So why did Amanda and a few of the others gathered around look at her differently right now?

She met Amanda's wide eyes. "We need to talk."

Amanda excused herself and kept in step beside Charley as they walked to her desk. Once they were out of earshot from the others, Amanda giggled.

"Charley, you're the talk of the office today. Everybody's discussing the Christmas party, and especially your performance."

Her heart sank. Oh, God! What were they saying?

Amanda clasped Charley's hands. "Are you going to tell me every juicy detail about Saturday night?"

Charley scratched her head. "I was rather hoping you could."

Amanda's brows lifted and she let out a loud laugh. "Oh, you're funny. Why do you think I'd be able to tell you?"

"You were there, weren't you?"

With squinted eyes and brows pulled together, her friend gave a quizzical stare. "Charley, I don't think we're talking about the same thing, here."

Charley took in a deep breath, clearing her head so she could communicate better. "I want to know what happened at the party."

Amanda laughed. "Oh, let me guess. Those twenty some-odd glasses of champagne made you forget?"

"Twenty?"

"No, just kidding, but I'm sure it was close to that."

Charley rubbed her forehead. "Yes, my headache still lingers."

"So what do you want to know?"

"I want to know who I left the party with."

Amanda tipped back her head and laughed hard, holding her sides with her arms. Charley gritted her teeth, counting to ten slowly under her breath. This was not a laughing matter. Her memory was at stake here, and the truth could either make or break her. If she didn't find out who she'd had incredible sex with, she'd go crazy!

Wiping away the tears gathered in her eyes, Amanda shook her head. "I don't know who you left the party with. I'd left before you did."

"Damn."

"You don't remember anything?"

"Not a lot."

"Oh, I wish I could have been a fly on your wall that night."

"What night?"

The male voice caused Charley to jump and swing around. She gasped. Max! How long had he been standing there?

He leaned his elbow on the corner of the cubicle, his relaxed stance enhancing his good looks. Of course, he always looked good in light colors. Today faded Levis hugged the lower half of his body, and the light brown cotton shirt stretched across his chest. She also enjoyed the way his gaze moved over her, from her ponytail down her silk blouse to her creased slacks, making giddiness bubble in her chest. When his blue eyes met hers again, his smile grew.

"What night? he repeated.

She couldn't let him know she had no clue who she'd spent the night with. She'd rather die from humiliation first.

Charley released an uneasy laugh and flipped her hand in the air. Her fingers accidentally connected with Amanda's face. Her friend yelped and stepped back, holding her nose.

Charley cringed, her face burning. "Oh, God. I'm sorry."

"No problem, Amanda mumbled behind her hand. "I'll be back in a minute. Turning sharply, Amanda hurried down the hall toward the restrooms.

Max laughed. "Way to go, Charley. If you wanted a private moment with me, all you had to do was ask her to leave."

Her stomach rocked with uneasiness. What is that supposed to mean?

His face softened, looking extremely relaxed. She wished she could feel as comfortable.

"So, about Friday night..."

She swallowed hard. "What about that night?"

"I think I should apologize."

I did sleep with him!Her jittery stomach caused a wave of nausea to erupt. "Why? Didn't you ... um ... enjoy yourself? She bit her lip. Why did I say it that way?

He nodded. "I did, but I don't think you did."

"Of course I did. She forced a laugh. "Why would you think differently?"

"Well, considering all the champagne you drank..."

Her limbs shook, so she sat on the edge of her desk and folded her arms just to keep them still. "Yes, I did get a little drunk."

"A little? He dropped his arm from the corner of the cubicle and stepped closer. "I'm just surprised you didn't strip down to your panties and dance naked."

She shrugged. "Close enough, I guess. After all, I still gave quite a show, if I recall. Recall? Hell, I can't remember anything.

"Yes. He stroked his finger down the side of her face, his gaze softening. "You did give quite a show."

Her palms moistened. She tried acting casual as she wiped them on her slacks. She must stay strong. Confident. Encouraging, but mostly, she must be seductive.

"Did ... um ... would... She took a deep breath, trying to gather her wits. "Would you like to see a repeat performance?"

His eyebrows rose. "Are you asking me out, Charley?"

She gulped. "Yes."

He ran his thumb over her quivering bottom lip. Why couldn't she control herself?

"What about your heart-throb, Giovanni?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "We're more like good friends."

"I see. He dropped his gaze to her mouth. "Then my answer is yes."

Her heart leapt to her throat. "Great. Her voice squeaked.

He chuckled. "Is the dance included?"

He wants me to dance in my undies?"Ummm ... okay."

"How about dinner first?"

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she recalled the article on how to melt a man's heart. Way Number Four - an old-fashioned date.

She nodded and smiled. "Dinner first, but I'm cooking."

His gaze skimmed over her body again and the corner of his lips lifted higher. "You sure are."

Her body ignited from his compliment. The room seemed to close in around her, making it difficult to breathe. "No, I mean, we'll have dinner at my house."

He nodded. "I'll be over tomorrow night at seven. Do you have that night off, too?"

"Yes. Tomorrow night sounds perfect."

He leaned forward and she held her breath. Was he going to kiss her right here at work? But he withdrew before she had a chance to pucker up. Thank heavens. She didn't want to appear overeager.

He turned and strode back to his office. She stared at his tight rump until it was out of sight.

When she'd actually moved from the corner of her desk to the chair, she stared at her blank computer screen. In the reflection, she wore a smile. As her mind finally began to work, she realized Max never really did say he'd slept with her. All the hints were there, but he'd still left her wondering.

Damn! This was all she needed. Well, she'd make certain there was no alcohol. And, she'd wait for him to make the first move.

What could she make him for dinner? She groaned and rubbed her forehead. She wasn't a chef - that was Damien's specialty. He was always cooking up something special for all his women friends. She could smell it from her townhouse all the time.

She snatched up the phone, quickly punching in Damien's cell number. Drumming her fingers on the desktop, she let it ring four times and was about to hang up when his deep voice answered.

"Hello?"

She sighed. "Oh, Damien, I'm glad you're there."

"Charley? What's wrong? His voice rising in quick response.

"Nothing's wrong. In fact, everything is right."

"Why?"

She giggled and relaxed back in her swivel chair, twirling the phone cord around her finger. "You'll never guess who's coming over to my house for dinner tomorrow."

There was a long pause. "Me?"

She sucked in her breath. Had she heard him right, or did she detect a sense of hopefulness in his voice?

"No, silly. Max is coming. After she said the words, her chest tightened. Why did she wish Damien was coming instead? She shook away her thoughts and focused on their conversation. "Oh, Damien, I actually carried on a normal discussion with him and nobody got hurt. Can you believe it?"

"No. His voice came soft.

She chuckled. "Yeah, me either."

"So, what are you planning to fix? TV dinners?"

"Ha, ha ... very funny, but you're also very right. That's all I ever eat."

He laughed, his deep voice sending chills up her arms. She rubbed the goose bumps away, trying to focus on Max instead of how her body currently reacted to Damien.

"Anyway, I need your help. In the article, 10 Ways to Melt a Man's Heart, Number Four says I have to give him an old-fashioned date. So, I want to cook him a meal. She paused briefly, then added, "I mean what could be more old-fashioned than that?"

"How about snaring a jackrabbit and cooking it over an open fire?"

A hint of sarcasm laced his voice, and she hoped she'd heard wrong. Her chest ached again. Why did he sound unhappy about this? "Does that mean you won't help me?"

Another long period of silence followed on the other end, and with each second, her heart sank. He didn't want to help. But she couldn't do it without him.

A heavy sigh came across the line and he cleared his throat. "Yes, Charley, I'll help you. I'll do anything for you. You know that."

She exhaled in relief, smiling wide once again. "Oh, Damien. You're a lifesaver. If he were standing in front of her now, she'd throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck...

No.Thinking this way was unhealthy. She had to stop thinking of Damien in physical terms when she was working on Max. But Damien's sexy scent did crazy little things to her stomach as if the butterflies inside were putting on their own production of The River Dance . Not only that, but she loved the deep timbre of his voice when he called her mí amore.

"Yes, I know, he said with a catch to his voice.

Wrenching emotion called to the deepest part of her. For a single, endless heartbeat, the sound of his breathing came through the other end of the phone. She wanted to rush to his side, to see his face. To know if he hurt as much as he sounded.

Her throat had turned dry and she swallowed. "Thanks, Damien. I'll love you forever for this, you know. What would I do without you?"

His chuckle was weak. "I hope I never find out."

* * * *

Damien clutched his briefcase and stormed out of his shareholders’ meeting, straight toward his office. Women filled the lobby from wall-to-wall. He dodged around the ones stepping in his way to get an introduction. GIO Products had a new promotion going and was looking for a woman model. An assortment of perfumes wafted heavily through the air, but none came close to smelling as sexy as Charley's berry scent. None of them stirred awareness in his chest - a longing to pull that woman into his arms and bury his face in her hair.

When he passed his secretary, she held up a hand to stop him. He ignored her and hurried inside his office, closing the door behind him. I need a stiff drink.

He went straight to the liquor cabinet and set his briefcase on the counter. Lifting a decanter, he poured a Scotch then quickly tipped it back into his mouth, not giving the drink any time to sit in the glass. It burned as it coated his throat and stomach, but he needed that right now. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

Damn that woman for disturbing his thoughts ... again.

During the hour and a half meeting with the shareholders, he probably only heard six words - good morningand have a nice day .

Why couldn't he stop thinking about Charley? And why did his gut twist the longer he thought about her and Max together, alone? Their date was tonight, and she expected him to make a meal for lovers ... He didn't think he could do that.

Jealousy gnawed at his gut like a starving piranha. He couldn't allow Max to be alone with Charley. She'd said she loved him . Although right now she only loved him as a friend, he'd change that as soon as possible.

But he couldn't tell her how he felt. Not yet. He needed to know if she truly wanted Max, or did she want him because she thought there was nobody else for her?

He'd promised he would help prepare dinner, and he was a man who stuck to his word. It just wouldn't be what she expected. Yes, call him vindictive, but damn it, he wanted Charley for himself. Seeing Max out of her life was his main priority.

So far, Max hadn't given any signs of being different. The man Damien knew in college went after women who belonged to others, and the night at the party proved Max was still up to his old tricks. Max had responded perfectly to the jealousy setup, going after Charley when it appeared she'd been with him. What would stop the bastard from going after the next attractive conquest he saw? Charley didn't need to be hurt again, and he'd see to it Max wouldn't be the next man to break her heart.

He walked over to his swivel chair and dropped into the seat. Out the window and across the street, the tall building came into sight, blocking his view of the park nearby. From what he could see, the blue sky held only a few clouds, but a storm soon headed toward them. By the way the limbs on the trees waved, the storm would be here quicker than he expected. He'd always liked winters. Colder weather made lovers cuddle together near a roaring fire.

He smiled and pictured Charley in his arms as they lay naked on the bearskin rug in front of a fireplace. It could happen. Although he didn't have a fireplace in his townhouse, his cabin in Colorado had three. It'd been a while since he'd been there. Perhaps it was time to take Charley and show her how the real Damien Giovanni lived.

The knock on his office door jolted him out of his daydreams. The door opened a crack and his secretary peeked her head inside.

"Mr. Giovanni? There's someone here to see you."

He glanced down at his opened day planner. "I didn't forget an appointment, did I?"

"No. She's been waiting since right after your meeting started."

He creased his forehead. "Who is it?"

Maryann hurried over to his desk and handed him a business card. "Says she's the vice-president of Herbal Sensations."

Their competitors?"Really? He glanced down at the card. As his gaze skimmed the name, Maryann spoke the words aloud.

"Her name is Liza Scapolli."

Ten

Damien drummed his fingers on his desk and clenched his jaw so tight he worried his teeth might break. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to see Liza. Not more than ten seconds ago, he'd nodded to his secretary to allow that woman into his office. What was he thinking? He'd gone this long without talking to her, so why couldn't he go another seven years or more?

The clicking of heels outside his door caused him to glare in that direction. He fisted his hands on the desktop, crinkling the paper beneath. Realizing he'd picked up an important document, he hurried and smoothed out the wrinkles then placed it on the desk out of his way.

The door opened. The long legs peeking from beneath a black leather mini-skirt grabbed his attention. Next that came into view, a silk, rose-colored blouse that had most of the top buttons undone to show off generous cleavage. His gaze traveled up the slim neck to the exotic face of the Italian woman who'd trampled his heart. She'd been his first love, and thankfully, not his last. But Liza Scapolli had been the most malicious. His gut clenched. What was the backstabbing bitch up to now?

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders and curled slightly over her surgically enhanced breasts. The smile she wore looked just as fake.

"Damieno, my dear. How long has it been?"

He tried to act nonchalant when he lifted his eyebrows in what he hoped would be an unexpressive look. "Not long enough."

Her throaty laugh bothered him, making him think she didn't believe him. He'd try harder next time.

She shut the door and slinked over to him. Instead of sitting on the brown leather chair, she rested her small bottom on the edge of his desk, crumpling the document he'd previously unwrinkled.

Leaning back in his chair, he linked his fingers over his stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Liza?"

She crossed one leg over the other, displaying the asset he'd forgotten. He didn't have to ogle her model size body. As far as he was concerned, she didn't compare to Charley.

Her heavy-mascara eyelashes batted. "Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I'd come and say hello, she practically purred.

"Fine. Now that you've said hello, you can leave. I'm very busy today."

She pouted. "Too busy for a friend?"

He sat up. "Friend? He looked beyond her as if someone else were in the room. "My friend is here? Where?"

"Oh, Damieno, you haven't lost your sense of humor, she drawled, then released a brittle laugh.

"I am very busy. If you haven't noticed, the lobby is packed with women auditioning for our ad. So Liza, please say what you've come to say and leave."

Gasping, she quickly stood. "I'm appalled you don't believe I'm here for a little visit. Perhaps I should leave and come back when you're in better spirits."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Liza, I know you better than to think you've come to see me just because you've missed me. In fact, I'm willing to bet you're here because you want to talk me into becoming your partner."

Her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her heart. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"I'd heard you were back in town so I checked out your company. I think Herbal Sensations is worried about GIO's new herbal lines. In fact, all analysts agree it's a better product. And since you stole the idea from me in the first place, I'm thinking you need my help. I believe you want to form an alliance."

Through her caked-on makeup, her skin lost a little color. She stared at him with her dark eyes, but kept a smile. He'd been right. The little heathen was still performing. Seven years ago he'd thought the sun rose just to shine on her every morning. He couldn't understand why the pain of betrayal was still fresh because he thought he was over her long ago.

Finally, her lips fell into a scowl. She took a step back and plopped into the chair on the other side of his desk. She shrugged. "Damieno, you're being very unreasonable."

"Ha, he snickered. "I have every right to be unreasonable. Back then you slept with me just to get information. Didn't you think I'd catch on? Not even four months after you left, I hear of a new company selling herbal shampoo, and guess who's vice-president and married to the president? None other than my ex."

Her delicately shaped eyebrows creased in a scowl. "That's not how it happened and you know it. Besides, I'm not with Dale any longer. I never got over my feelings for you. I loved you - "

"And that's why you made the moves on my best friend?"

"It's not what you think. Maxwell Harrington was just comforting me - "

"Yeah, and I'm sure the reason you were both naked and in each other's arms was because the air-conditioning broke. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "But it doesn't matter now. He flipped his hand through the air. "You have your company and I have mine. He smiled. "And my company is doing so much better than it was while we were together."

She glanced at her hands while she twisted them against her stomach. "Damieno, don't you even want to hear my offer? Her voice was low.

He rolled his eyes again. There she went on, over dramatizing. "Not really."

Her gaze lifted to his and fire could have shot out of her eyes. A muscle in her cheek jumped. He recognized the early symptoms of her anger. Now he couldn't wait to annoy her further.

"And why not? she asked.

"Because I don't need you."

She leaned forward, exposing more of her bosom. He couldn't stop from taking a peek. All he could think about was how they paled in comparison to Charley's perfectly molded breasts. He couldn't forget the way Charley looked naked and sprawled out on her bed.

"But, Damieno, think of how much more your company could make. There's nothing wrong with Herbal Sensations. We just need stronger backing."

Impatiently, he pushed away from his desk. "Sorry, Liza, I'm not interested. He walked closer to her. From up here, he could see farther down her blouse ... and the skimpy bra she wore. Obviously, she came to do more than talk. "I'm not interested in anything you have to offer."

"But your mother seemed pleased with the idea."

"My mother doesn't know you're a blood-thirsty shark either."

With a huff, she stood, her body only inches from his. "You're a very stubborn man."

"True, but I think you're more upset because you haven't been able to seduce me this time."

She arched an eyebrow. "Then I guess the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"That you're gay."

He chuckled. He'd have to find the person who spread that rumor and give them a raise. "Believe what you want."

She gasped. "I can't believe I hurt you so much you switched to men."

His laughter grew. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Do your shareholders know this about you?"

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged. "I'm just curious if they really know the truth."

"Liza, if you're trying to think up a way to blackmail me, it's not going to work. The shareholders are happy with GIO Products. They aren't going to be swayed. He glanced at her breasts again. "Not even if you slept with them. They enjoy getting wealthy off my business."

"Oh! She pushed her palms against his chest and walked past him. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

He breathed a sigh of relief that she was gone, but knowing Liza, she'd be back, and that worried him. She didn't give up easily.

* * * *

An old fashioned night on the town

The next day Damien stopped in front of his townhouse to unlock the door and Charley came flying out of her front door.

"Damien, you're late, she said breathless.

He glanced down at his watch. "Only by ten minutes."

"We have to hurry. Max will be here in two hours."

He chuckled and opened his door, motioning for Charley to enter first. When she stepped past him, he breathed in her berry scent. He wanted to swipe the hair off her neck and taste her skin. Inwardly, he cursed his weakness. He couldn't think this way about her. Not tonight.

"We have plenty of time, mí amore ."

"Have you thought of what we could fix for dinner?"

He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wood. "No, have you?"

She nodded. "I thought about some exotic French dish."

"Oh, that's good."

Her smile brightened. "Really?"

"Yes. I have everything we need in my kitchen. He moved away from the door and in three steps stood in front of her. "I have French dressing to go on the tossed green salad. I have French fries that will go great with French bread."

She slapped his shoulder and laughed. "Be serious."

"Okay, I'll be serious, but just for tonight. He paused and gave her a nod. "I have it. We'll fix my specialty. Cinnamon chicken and cheesy scalloped potatoes."

"Hmmm ... sounds heavenly. She rubbed her hands together. "And what about a vegetable?"

"Would you rather have asparagus or broccoli?"

She scrunched her nose. "Definitely not asparagus."

He winked. "Then broccoli it is. He clasped her hand and hooked it around his elbow. "Now, cheré , if you'll allow me to escort you into zee kitchen, ve'll prepare zee most tastiest dish that's ever touched your tongue, he said in a fake French accent.

She laughed and hugged his arm. He groaned, wishing he could tell her just what her hug had meant to him - what she meant to him.

"First things first, we have to wash our hands. He reached over the sink and turned on the water. She grabbed the bottle of pump-soap and gave a couple of squirts before repeating the process to hers. When her slick hands moved together under the water, he became mesmerized. The image of their naked bodies moving together filled his head, both slick with soap as they stood underneath the shower ... His groin tightened. He switched the cold water higher, hoping to dismiss the fantasy.

He cleared his throat. "Since I have everything we need, we'll just make it here."

She nodded. "But I want it to cook in my kitchen. My place needs to smell like I've been laboring over a hot stove."

He dug through his drawer-full of recipes and pulled out the one for Cinnamon Chicken. Leaning beside him, she peered at the card with him.

"I'll get the ingredients, and you get the chicken, she said.

"Sounds like a plan."

He moved to the refrigerator and withdrew the full chicken he'd planned to have for dinner. He unwrapped it, then brought it over to the sink to wash. He glanced over to see if Charley needed any help, but she'd found his spice cabinet and had proceeded to grab the needed spices.

When she reached for the cinnamon bottle, he realized how he could sabotage her meal with Max. Right next to it in the identical colored bottle was the chili powder. He opened his mouth to make sure she didn't grab the wrong one, but then snapped it close. The dinner would indeed be ruined if he used the powder instead of the spice. Should he switch bottles when she wasn't looking?

After blotting the chicken with a paper towel, he motioned with his head. "Sweetheart, why don't you go put one of my aprons on?"

"Great idea. Where do you keep them?"

"In the long closet right around the corner there. He nodded in the direction. "And grab me one while you're there."

As soon as she turned, he made the switch. Within seconds, regret hit him like a punch in the stomach, and he almost put the chili powder back, but she returned and her sweet smile twisted his heart. He wanted her, and he'd do anything to keep Max from hurting her.

He proceeded preparing the chicken, holding his breath when he applied the chili powder. Luckily, she didn't mention the smell. Of course, she stood by the sink peeling the potatoes.

She hummed a soft love song that he recognized from ten years ago. He smiled. She was such a romantic, and if all went according to his plans, she'd soon be his.

Setting the chicken in his roaster and placing the lid over it, he picked up the pan. "I'm going to get this cooking in your oven. I'll be back in a moment."

When he walked into her apartment and noticed what she'd done, his heart sank. Candles, low lighting, and what looked to be her best plates and utensils were all on a table set for two in the middle of the front room. Music played in the background, and he realized why Charley had been humming that song.

His hands tightened around the handles of the roaster. Would substituting the cinnamon for the chili powder be enough to ruin the evening? He doubted it, especially, if she planned on dressing to kill.

He walked into the kitchen and turned on her oven. It hurt to think he knew her townhouse almost as well as his own. Yet he was just her friend. He released a heavy sigh. He must tell her how he felt, and about Max ... tonight. Yet, could he confess his feelings this early in their friendship? What if she found out about Max and the revenge he had planned for the man back then? Would she think this was his way to get back at Max? He couldn't take that kind of rejection.

Before heartbreak rooted itself in his chest, he hurried to his apartment to finish the dinner. He explained how to fix the potatoes while he cut up the broccoli.

Once she placed the potatoes in the casserole dish, he carried it over to put in with the chicken. She followed behind with the pan full of vegetables.

"Do you like how I set the table? Her voice lifted with excitement.

"It's perfect."

She turned on the stove and put the lid on the vegetables. "Would you watch these steam while I go hop in the bath?"