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An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as Katrina Garrett’s curly red head appeared over Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Reggie, but Gabe is ordering in tonight.”

A smug smile glossed in rosy pink decorated Katrina’s beautiful face.

It occurred to Reggie that she could pull rank. As Gabe’s temporary employer, she would be within her rights to demand that he boot Katrina out and accompany her wherever she damned well pleased. But she feared if she had to look at him across a plate of food, she’d either throw up or burst into tears. Or both.

She swallowed heavily and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. She stretched her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Whoops, didn’t realize you had company, Gabe. I guess I’ll just do room service as well.” She prayed they didn’t notice how her voice cracked at the end.

Gabe reached out, guilt and irritation warring on his face. “Reggie…”

She stepped back, nearly falling on her ass in her impractical stiletto boots. Holding up her hand, she said, “Really, Gabe, no big deal. You’ve been stuck with me all this time. You deserve a night of”—she gulped down the bile burning the back of her throat—“recreation.”

Hurrying back to her room before she humiliated herself further, she closed her door and slumped against it. God, what an idiot. Jealous? Hah! She should have known better than to listen to Natalie. Like her track record was indicative of any deep knowledge about men!

She started to take off her boots, preparing to change into sweats, then thought better of it. She couldn’t bear to spend another moment in this room, staring at the TV and torturing herself thinking about what Gabe was doing to Katrina on the other side of the wall. Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed Carrie, who agreed to swing by her room and join her in the bar downstairs for a couple of drinks. At least downstairs she’d have no chance of overhearing something that might make her sick, and maybe a couple of cocktails would take the edge off the sharp ache that pinched the center of her chest.

“I
’m not kidding, Katrina, you have to leave.” Gabe rounded on her as he shut the door, his annoyance at Katrina for having followed him now compounded by the unwanted guilt he felt at hurting Reggie.

The pushy bitch lounged on the bed and pouted in a manner she no doubt thought very seductive. Gabe was reminded of a temperamental three-year-old. “Come on, Gabe, we were just starting to have fun.”

“Fun? I don’t know about other guys you date, Katrina, but I don’t consider being followed to my hotel room and orally raped much ‘fun.’”

Katrina sat up then, insulted. “Orally raped? What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway? Most men would be flattered.”

Gabe shook his head. Katrina had showed up fifteen minutes ago, having tailed him and Reggie back to the hotel and followed him stealthily up to his room. He cursed his distracted stupidity. If he hadn’t been so distracted by the idea of Reggie flirting with Joe Banker at the book signing, he would have known they were being followed. But as usual, Reggie fucked with his instincts and made his radar go haywire.

When he’d answered the door, Katrina hadn’t waited for an invitation before shoving him inside and attacking him like a cat in heat. Before he could react, she had his shirt half off and her tongue halfway down his throat.

For some asinine reason, he’d thought to spare her pride rather than throwing her out bodily on her skinny jean-clad ass.

Unfortunately, she seemed convinced that if she just stayed where she was, Gabe would give in and fuck her.

But now that she’d seen fit to rub Reggie’s nose in their supposed liaison, the gloves were off. “I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head, struggling to keep his temper under control, “if a guy did this to you, you’d be calling security and pressing charges. But because you’re a woman, I’m supposed to be flattered? You’re in my room and I don’t want you here, Katrina.” And now he’d inadvertently hurt Reggie’s feelings
again.
He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t banish the image of Reggie’s hurt brown eyes and soft, trembling mouth. Helpless rage surged in his chest at the thought of how she must be feeling right now, thinking that he’d invited Katrina up to his room.

Some of his temper must have shown in his face, because Katrina’s expression took on a vaguely alarmed cast. Sidling warily off the bed, she kept an eye on him as she gathered up her purse and finally—thankfully!—headed for the door.

She reached for the doorknob, tossing a glare over her shoulder. “Your loss.”

The door clicked shut and he threw the deadbolt for good measure, rolling his eyes at her cockiness. Another time, another place, he might have banged Katrina out of sheer boredom.

But not now. The fact was, his dick got hard for just one hot little chef these days, and unfortunately, he’d vowed to keep his hands—and any other interested body parts—off of her.

Maybe he should call Reggie, take her up on that offer to go grab a drink and a bite, explain what really happened with Katrina. Sure, he’d vowed to keep his distance, especially after what happened in New Orleans, but wasn’t it in both their best interests to maintain a positive professional relationship?

After all, he couldn’t let her believe he picked up women on the road and took them back to the hotel room she was paying for. She might badmouth him to other potential clients. Letting her continue to think badly of him would be way more unprofessional than joining her for a drink.

He dialed her room, frowning as her phone went into the hotel messaging system. Maybe she was in the shower. He waited ten minutes, impatiently performing twenty complete circuits of the hotel cable’s eighty available channels before calling her again.

Still no answer. He tried her cell, which dumped him into voicemail. Either she was avoiding his calls, or she couldn’t get to the phone to answer it.

Grabbing the key cards off the dresser, he stepped out into the hall and knocked on her door. When she still didn’t answer, he knocked harder, calling her name, a knot tightening in his belly. He looked down at the other key card in his hand. Her room key. If she was inside and avoiding him, she’d be hugely pissed at the invasion of her privacy.

Cold sweat trickled down his spine as it occurred to him how easy it had been for Katrina to follow him, how easy it had been for her to come straight to his room with no interference from hotel security.

How easy it had been for the stalker to break into their room in New Orleans.

He’d risk her wrath.

After another sharp rap he slid the card into the lock and slowly opened her door. “Reggie?”

Poking his head through the door, he suddenly wished he’d brought his Glock 9mm. But with the heavier security measures on airlines these days, it was too much of a pain in the ass unless a client was under appreciable physical threat. So his trusty Glock was locked in its case back in his apartment in L.A.

He crept into the room, swiftly taking in every possible hiding place. Nothing. He stopped, listening for a betraying breath, Reggie’s voice, muffled behind a hand or a gag. Silence. He checked the bathroom, dark with its door slightly ajar.

Reggie’s room was completely empty.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed off the walls as he loosened his choke hold on the temper he fought so hard to keep under control. He nearly punched a hole in the wall before he got himself calmed down.

His father’s decades’ old advice rang in his head: “Son, when you get hot, you get stupid. You’ve got to keep your anger under control and let your brain get to work.”

Gabe took several deep, calming breaths, just as his father had taught him. As his molten temper cooled, so did his panic. His roiling emotions settled to a more reasonable level, and finally ceded control to his logic.

He had a pretty good idea where Reggie was.

Two minutes later, he stepped off the elevator into the lobby.

Bingo.

There she was, cute as hell, seated at the bar chatting with Carrie and a well-dressed couple in their forties. Laughing and talking, hands waving as she emphasized some point. She giggled as she sloshed a little of her martini on her sleeve. By the flush on her cheeks, he guessed it wasn’t her first.

His temper, just barely under control, threatened to flare to life again. He stifled it. At least she’d had the good sense not to leave her room alone, but Carrie wasn’t exactly what he’d call a protective presence. And he had to acknowledge his part. It was his carelessness, after all, that had allowed Katrina to get the jump on him. And he shouldn’t have let her leave when she saw Katrina in his room, should have explained at once instead of getting stunned speechless by the laser beam of guilt that shot out from her big, hurt-filled brown eyes.

She was so engrossed in her conversation she didn’t even notice when he braced his hip on the stool next to her. He waited politely for her to finish her story, something about how when she was little her mother would only let her eat the middle of the pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, claiming the crust was too fattening. “To this day,” Reggie said with a chuckle, “the crust is my favorite part of the pie.”

“I’ll have to e-mail you the recipe for my grandma’s pie crust,” the woman said. “Lard and all, it’s the flakiest, most tender crust you’ll ever taste.”

Gabe waved off the bartender’s inquisitive look and gently tapped Reggie on the shoulder. Her head snapped around and she visibly braced herself for his usual tirade.

Keeping his tone quiet and polite, he asked, “Reggie, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and she took a slow, deliberate bite of her olive. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m having a nice conversation here. Besides, aren’t you otherwise…occupied?” She scanned the room over his shoulder, obviously looking for Katrina.

He set his jaw and reminded himself to stay calm, stay focused, so he could have a reasonable conversation with Reggie and give her the apology she deserved. “That’s what I want to talk about. Do you want to have this conversation here, or can we go somewhere quieter?”

She stared at him for several seconds as Carrie and her new best friends looked on curiously. Finally, she slid off the stool and grabbed her purse. “Will you excuse me? My
friend
and I need to have a quick chat.”

Gabe took her arm carefully and steered her to the bank of elevators across the lobby. The second the doors shut she whirled on him. “You are unbelievable, you know that?” Dark eyes sparkling with anger and hurt, she poked him in the chest for emphasis. “You yell at me for a little harmless flirting, and then you have the nerve to invite that, that
skank
up to your room! You feed me this line about not getting personally involved with your clients, but I guess that doesn’t rule out banging a random woman on the road as long as I’m safely tucked in my room.”

“Reggie, first of all, I would never, as you put it, bang some random woman on the road when my first priority is your safety. I didn’t invite Katrina up to my room, she followed me.” He moved closer as he mounted his defense, until mere inches separated them. Reggie’s chin lifted, mutinous. Clearly, she didn’t believe a word.

Irritation danced on the edge of anger. One thing he wasn’t was a liar, and it infuriated him to no end that this woman in particular would think so. “At the risk of repeating myself, I take my job very seriously. And just as I don’t get involved with my clients, I don’t allow myself to get distracted by any other offers, regardless of how tempting.”

Reggie pointed her finger triumphantly. “Aha! So you at least admit you were tempted.”

“Not by Katrina—”

“You know what I think?” Her cheeks flushed with anger, eyes glaring daggers. “I think”—she poked him in the chest, hard—“that this whole hands off clients is a load of crap. I think it’s a convenient excuse because you don’t have the balls”—another sharp poke—“to tell me to my face that you’re not interested.”

That last poke did it. He’d spent the past several weeks in a state of semi to full arousal, trying to get the taste of her out of his mouth, her spicy, cinnamon bun scent out of his nostrils, and now she had the gall to accuse him of having no balls!

The last shred of sanity fled, overwhelmed by the scent of her, the heat emanating off her angry skin, the frustrated lust that had only multiplied after their wild coupling in New Orleans.

Grasping her ass in his hands, he jerked her hard against him. “I’ve got balls, all right, and right now they’re so blue they look like two smurfs on a sausage.” He met her shocked gaze and rubbed his painfully hard erection against the giving softness of her belly. “Feel that? Still think I’m not interested?” His breath came in hot pants as he bent down to capture her mouth in a rough, tongue-thrusting kiss. “Did it feel like I wasn’t interested in New Orleans, Reggie?” he growled against her cheek, biting into the plump flesh. “When I had my tongue buried in your pussy, when I fucked you deep and hard?”

Reggie moaned, rubbing against him as she fisted her hands in his hair and jerked his mouth to hers.

He sighed into her parted lips, making helpless sounds of need as his tongue sank into the sleek recesses of her mouth. He shoved her against the wall of the elevator car and feasted on her mouth as his fingers pressed into the voluptuous curves of her hips. Christ, this was insane, but he couldn’t fight it anymore. He was too turned on, too attracted to everything about her, to continue pushing her away.

A soft ding echoed in the elevator and a discreet “ahem” momentarily jolted Gabe out of his lust-filled haze. Lifting his head, he saw a middle-aged man standing in the open doorway of the elevator. With a sheepish grin, Gabe pushed away from Reggie, pulling her against him to hide the tented front of his trousers. It took an eternity to get to the eighteenth floor, but finally he had his door unlocked and Reggie in his room and in his arms.

Bracing her against the wall, he bent his knees so his aching cock lined up with the notch in her thighs, feeling the heat of her response as it radiated through the fabric of their clothing. As ravenous as he was for her, he wanted to take this slow, to savor every square inch of her creamy skin, linger over all the spots guaranteed to get her off like a rocket, and discover some new ones.

He wrapped one hand around her throat, stroking the tendons and the tender skin of her earlobe. He slid the other under the silky fabric of her blouse, flattening it against the hot skin of her belly, inching up until his fingers just brushed the underside of her breasts.

God, he couldn’t get enough of her mouth. Spicy and tasting faintly of vodka, her tongue rubbed against his. Her lips were full and succulent, like some exotic, delicious fruit he could feast on forever and never be sated.

She sucked on his tongue and he feared his cock would bust through his zipper. Her palm slid down the front of his pants and she grasped him, groaning in satisfaction as she measured the length and breadth of him.

Then, inexplicably, she was shoving against his shoulders. “No, stop,” she panted, tearing her mouth from his.

Gabe bent to stifle her protests with a kiss, but she turned her head away. He licked and nipped her earlobe instead.

“I can’t do this,” Reggie panted, ducking out from under his arm and putting a good five feet between them. Her lips were swollen and bruised from his mouth, the delicate skin around her mouth abraded from his beard. That, combined with the still dreamy look in her eye, gave her the look of a woman eagerly awaiting a good, long fuck.

So why was she stopping?

“You may be able to turn off your emotions like a faucet, but I can’t.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m not that tough, Gabe. When you sleep with me and then treat me like I’m barely an acquaintance, it hurts too much.”

Something cracked in his chest. He didn’t know what the hell was going on inside him, didn’t know what to tell her. But he knew he had to have her. He wanted her more than any woman he’d ever known, he liked everything about her, and the knowledge that he’d hurt her twisted in his gut. As logic tried to remind him of his last, disastrous relationship with a client, his gut told him to grab on to this woman and never let her go. Later, he might curse his foolishness, but right now he’d face any consequences just to get inside her again.