It started out as a perfect day, the kind of day that it was worth staying up for

Grace Mallory stared at the half-empty glass of white wine...her second thus far, running her finger along the upper edge of the crystal.

“Something wrong, Grace?” Josh asked.

Besides the fact that I'd rather be drinking a beer? Of course, Joshua Winters would probably be shocked, if she ordered barley and hops with a seventy-dollar meal. For him, it was the finest vintages, yet another difference between Josh and Michael.

She shook that thought away, masking it as a negative response, pasted on a smile and raised her glass to her dinner companion. Forget the past. Josh is the present. There's no reason to compare them. Michael is gone.

“It's Justice again, isn't it?” he asked, setting his glass down and picking up his fork. His grip was light, nearly pretty in its elegance.

Grace wanted to deny it, but there was little point. Josh had waited three months to approach her about furthering the relationship between them. Though he didn't want to be a rebound, he knew she was hurting and would for a little longer.

Unlike Michael, Josh had a heart and could appreciate such things. Josh wasn't clumsy. He wasn't without perception and empathy.

“It still stings. I guess it will, for a while,” she offered.

“You don't just turn off your feelings,” he agreed, twisting his fork in the perfect primavera.

The perfect primavera. The perfect man. So, why doesn't it feel like it sometimes? Why do I still think of Michael? It was insane. No rational person would be thinking about Michael Justice, after what he did. At least she could honestly say she didn't want him.

“If you don't mind me asking...” Josh glanced up at her, assessing her mood.

“No. Go on.”

“How did you ever fall in with Justice? I would never have pegged the two of you as compatible.”

“I suppose we weren't,” Grace conceded. Which made her feelings all the more incomprehensible.

“How did it happen?” He went back to his meal, giving Grace space to choose to answer...or not.

Space... Did Michael ever give me space?

“Really? This is no joke?” Michael asked.

Grace nodded. “I told you that Adam Silver is a fan.”

Convincing the art critic to detour to cover Michael's show hadn't been difficult. Not that Grace was going to tell Michael how easy it had been. If he thought she'd had to do some major wheeling and dealing to pull this off, let him think it.

“Grace...I...you really—”

She smiled at his stumbling. For once, she'd left Michael Justice speechless. Grace had never met a more self-assured man. He was gorgeous, buff, talented, intelligent, and good-natured. What was there not to be self-assured about?

His hands cupped her head, and his mouth closed on hers. Grace's surprise was drowned out by an uncompromising arousal.

She'd wanted Michael Justice since the first time he'd set foot in Le Artiste; this response was too good to be true. Grace pressed her hands flat to his chest and opened her lips wider, moaning as he deepened the kiss.

The faux ivory pins holding her hair up eased out then clattered onto the edge of her desk. Her hair loosened then unfurled, the weight sliding along her shoulders and back. Michael buried his hands in its length, fisting then releasing it, exhaling hard against her cheek.

Grace slipped her arms up, circling his neck and bringing herself flush to his body...and to the erection straining his jeans. Anne had already left for the day, and she'd never been more glad of the fact.

Any speculations about his intentions were laid to rest. The man had the most unquestionably carnal nature she'd ever encountered, and Grace loved it. In a heartbeat, she knew Michael wouldn't be stopping, and she didn't want him to.

As if stating his agreement, he yanked up at her skirt, uncovering her to her hips. The fingertips of his left hand traced the tops of her thigh-high stockings then retreated.

His lips left hers, and their eyes met. The question was asked and answered that simply, intent and agreement.

With a nod of his head, Michael lifted Grace to her desktop and leaned over her, pushing papers and pens aside as she sank beneath him. His jeans were open and pushed away before she had her bearings again. Her panties were at her knees a heartbeat later.

He lodged himself inside her with a moan and a shiver. Grace levered her legs up, kicking away her heels and panties, intent on wrapping them around him. Michael had other ideas; he grasped her beneath the knees and forced her legs up and apart.

Before she could question him, he was pistoning in and out of her. Not that Grace intended to complain about it. Not while she was skyrocketing to climax.

Her brain ceased to function, awash in waves of sensual stimuli. Gasping cries that might have contained fractured pleas for more gave way to a full-throated scream of release that scorched at her lungs and throat.

Michael grumbled and grunted out something that made no sense to her. He froze inside her then raised Grace until she was chest to chest with him again, teetering on the edge of her desk, the plane of his hips and the length of his cock holding her in place.

Grace thumbed several buttons on his denim shirt open and parted it to reveal his chest. He seemed to hold his breath, while she lowered her face, pressing her lips to his skin. The taste of his salt-heavy sweat and musk had barely registered on her savoring tongue when he was moving again.

She reached her toes out, grasping the arms of her desk chair and reeling it in, thanking some unnamed deity that she'd opted for a chair that didn't roll at the heavy executive desk and one that did at her smaller work station.

The fact that it didn't roll meant she could plant her feet on it and move against Michael, setting a furious pace to off-the-charts pleasure. Michael's climax was as frantic as the rest, hot jets of come buffeting her while he continued to thrust into her.

Then, they were still in each other's arms, breathing harshly, rumpled, sweat-soaked and, at least for Grace, still not sated. Michael's breath teased at her swollen lips, his words easing inside, following the paths his tongue once had.

“Dear God, I've been dreaming about that for weeks.”

She nodded. Grace had been dreaming of it too, but she'd never dared hope Michael would... Rock my world? Oh, but he had done that.

And, she wanted it again. Grace went back to unbuttoning his shirt, trailing her lips over ridges of muscles drawn tight in arousal.

Michael went to work on her blouse, playing at her breasts through her bra, still deliciously hard inside her. “Satin,” he noted. “Nice.”

Grace pushed his sleeves down his arms, and he released her with a grumbled complaint, tearing the clothing off and returning to his exploration. In a few dizzying moments, she was stripped to the waist.

“Better,” he breathed. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending ripples of delight through her belly.

“Yes. It is.” Her voice hardly seemed her own, low, husky, pure invitation. She'd never played the wanton before. There was something liberating in just letting passion unfold, expand...explode.

His cock jerked, and she closed her eyes, arching against him.

Let it happen. Whatever he's planning, just go with it. Worry about where it takes you later.

Michael slid from her body, and she opened her eyes, shaking her head and moaning in protest. Her counsel of following where Michael led didn't extend to following him to an early end, apparently.

Grace wrapped her legs around him, and he smiled widely, moving closer as she tightened her thigh muscles and drew him in. There was something knowing in that smile, something wicked and taunting that made her blood heat again.

He unwrapped her legs and spread them wide, licking his lips as he surveyed the length of her body. His cock brushed the sensitized slit still aching for him.

“Before this goes in again, we're both going to be naked,” he informed her.

Grace swallowed hard, meeting his dark blue eyes. She flicked a glance at his erection, and it bucked in response.

Let it happen. For once, don't think. “Then we better get moving on that.”

His voice was so low, she almost missed his response.

“I don't know what I did right, but I swear to God, I'll do it again.”

A smiled pulled up at her lips. “I certainly hope so,” she purred.

Grace unhooked then unzipped her skirt, swiveling her hips as she pushed it away to let it fall to the floor. Michael released her legs and watched it drop.

His hands returned, working their way beneath her stockings and peeling them off, kneading her legs as they eased away. They landed somewhere behind him, but neither of them paid them any attention.

Green eyes were locked with blue, something nameless growing between them.

“Grace?” Josh inquired, a note of concern in his voice. The backs of his fingertips trailed along the line of her jaw.

She started then smiled. “It just happened, Josh. Sometimes, life hits you, when you don't expect it.”

His smile wasn't brittle and hard. It was soft, nurturing. He tucked an escaping lock of hair back into her bun. “We don't have to discuss it, if you don't want to.”

That brought out a more natural smile in her. “I'd appreciate that.”

“You know I'd never force you to talk about something you don't want to,” he reminded her, a touch of hurt in his tone.

“Of course.” They'd been friends before they were lovers. They'd been friends before Michael...and after Michael and were now. They likely always would be.

Josh leaned toward her, feathering his lips over hers, parting them carefully. The kiss was slow and deep, a promise of the night to come. When he pulled back, his eyes glittered in renewal of that same promise.

He went back to his meal, and Grace noted that he was nearly done, when she'd barely picked at her own.

“I take it you aren't hungry tonight, Grace?” he asked, probably believing it a safe subject.

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Dessert to go?” he offered.

“If you'd like some. I'll pass, thanks.”

Josh cocked his head, examining her for a moment, as if she presented a logic problem to him. “Shall we retire to my place?”

A little thrill went through her at the thought of Josh's undivided attention to her. Where sex was concerned, 'undivided' was one word that surely applied to him.

“That's the best idea I've heard all day,” she admitted.

“I'm glad.”

He waved for the check and signed to have it added to his club tab. In minutes, he was whisking her away to bliss.

Bliss wouldn't come in moments, of course. Josh was the type to wait until they were comfortably ensconced in a bed, clothing hung or folded nearby, condom in place...safe and comfortable, in every way.

Quickies weren't in his repertoire, either. When Josh committed to sex, he planned to take his time and do it right, which meant his full focus and determination on the goal of them both enjoying the night fully.

As they waited for the car, Josh indulged in another preparatory kiss. It did its job well, rendering her slick and aching for more, wiping the bittersweet memories of fast fucks and careless words from her mind.

She slid into the car next to him, letting her eyes wander his impeccably-kept appearance. Josh was her friend and her lover. Best of all, Josh was safe.

If there was one thing Michael Justice taught her, it was that nothing was more important than a safe heart. If she didn't wake from dreams of him, all the better. It meant she wasn't disturbed.

The End