about the suite at the hotel that Stephen kept for his personal use. It had also been done in white, she recollected. But unlike the other suites in the hotel, the room rate there had been a night of passion in Stephen’s bed.
She felt herself heat at the thought.
“What are you thinking?” he said, and she jumped.
“I was just mulling the possibilities,” she said quickly, trying to cover her lapse. “It occurred to me to do a takeoff on the decor in the rest of the hotel. White and dark blue. White leather, midnight-blue velvet. Different textures, different fabrics.”
She spoke rapidly, sketching her idea for him, the thoughts spilling from her. “White to echo the calming relaxation of the rest of the hotel, midnight-blue for business. Navy is a business color, but we’ll subtly undermine it by casting it in sinful velvet and giving it a unique hue.”
His long-ago familiar lopsided smile appeared. “Tell me more.”
It was easy to think sinful in his presence, she wanted to tell him.
Her heart beat rapidly.
There was a time, four years ago, when they’d been so hot for each other, they’d have abandoned their business meeting to sneak away upstairs and have frantic sex in his hotel suite, kissing and holding hands in the elevator as soon as the doors closed.
Or he’d have locked the door, and taken her right here.
Not anymore.
And she shouldn’t be having such lascivious thoughts about a client, she reminded herself. Particularly him. She was mommy material now.
She glanced around. “We’ll replace the wood paneling with sound-soak material to help with the acoustics and lighting. It comes in an off-white color, but with a suede finish, so it’ll blend with the decor.”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
“It’ll sound even better when I’ve had time to draw up plans,” she responded as she walked back toward him. “We’ll need to move the business center, too. It should be convenient but less obtrusive. Right now, from what I saw, it has too much glass, in my opinion.”
“I’m liking it even more,” he replied.
“Aren’t you lucky, then, that you got me before Jordan Jefferies did?” she joked, then could have bitten off her tongue as Stephen’s eyes darkened.
She watched as his gaze traveled over her. “Yeah, I got you,” he drawled before he met her gaze. “The question is, when will I have you again?”
Her stomach flipped. “Never.”
“Never is a long time, sweetheart.”
“I thought we agreed to keep this relationship strictly professional.”
“We did?” he murmured.
“That would put sexual innuendo on the wrong side of the line,” she informed him.
“How about dinner?” he asked, his voice flippant even as his look heated her all over. “Would having dinner together be on the wrong side of the line?”
“Mo—” She stopped to clear the catch in her throat. “Most definitely.”
“Too bad,” he murmured.
Yes, too bad. Then she caught herself.
No, not too bad. He was lying, cheating vermin, and she’d be three kinds of fool to fall under the spell of his seductive charm—again. What was wrong with her?
He looked at her hair. “Why is your hair up?”
“It’s hot.”
Outside. It’s hot outside. But she felt as if she was burning up right in here.
Before she could stop him, he reached up, and with an efficient move, released the barrette holding her hair in place.
A cascade of dark red hair followed.
“Much better,” he remarked. “I always liked it better down.”
“Stop it.” She didn’t know whom she was angrier with, him for putting the moves on her, or herself for her breathless reaction.
“It was good four years ago,” he stated.
“Yes, and it’s over now.”
“Easily rectified. Have dinner with me.”
Stephen being Stephen, it was more a command than a request.
“I can’t. I need to go—”
She clamped her mouth shut. He’d gotten her so discombobulated, she’d almost said she had to go relieve the babysitter. It was an excuse that came effortlessly to her lips. She’d grown accustomed to using it over the past three years.
“You have to go, what?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she responded. “When I have something down on paper for this project, I’ll call you.”
Then she grabbed her purse and brushed past him in her haste to get out of the room.
Stephen stood looking out his office window, his suit jacket hanging open and bunched above the hands shoved in his pockets. He had a rare moment for calm introspection.
He’d come on strong with Megan earlier. Maybe too strong, he admitted to himself now.
She’d reacted like a deer caught in headlights. It was far different from the way she’d reacted to his pursuit four years ago. Then she’d flatly refused to go out with him, but the unaccustomed taste of rejection had simply spiked his interest.
He’d made up reasons to show up at Garrison, Inc. headquarters, even recruiting Parker so he would know when Megan was due to show up there.
He’d engaged her in casual conversation, and eventually discovered they’d both been captains of their high school swim teams and they were both football fans, though she followed her hometown Indianapolis Colts while he was a Miami Dolphins fan.
More importantly, he’d liked the fact she was ambitious without taking herself too seriously. It was something he could relate to.
He’d discovered she’d left her home in Indiana and come down to Florida because of the career opportunities in the interior design field. She dealt with the aesthetics of workplace and hospitality environments, while his aim was to make his hotel the premier accommodation in Miami by focusing on cutting-edge design.
To his chagrin, he’d also discovered his reputation as a player had preceded him and Megan was understandably wary.
“Why won’t you go out with me?” he’d asked her one day, bestowing one of his trademark killer smiles. He’d found from experience that the direct approach often worked best. “It’s been rumored I’m actually a reasonable dinner partner, decent arm candy and even a fairly good kisser.”
Her lips had twitched. “Yes, and that’s not all apparently. I know about your reputation.”
“Rumors of my prowess have been exaggerated,” he parried, not averse to shamelessly self-serving comments.
She laughed. “Can I quote you? It’s rare to hear a guy like you argue for once that his image has outstripped the reality. Still, I noticed you didn’t say greatly exaggerated.”
“A guy like me?” he repeated, pretending to look wounded.
“Mmm-hmm. Exactly like you,” she said archly, turning back to her work.
Still, he’d eventually caught her at a weak moment one day and coaxed her into having an overdue lunch with him at a corner bistro. She’d relented, and their affair had taken off from there.
Yet, back then she’d never had that apprehensive quality around him that she’d