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Virginia chewed silently for a moment, then murmured, “We’ll see how long this success lasts. Considering you’re not even a professional chef, there’s only so far you can go.”

Reggie threw down her fork, sputtering as she got sucked into what was obviously a long-running argument between mother and daughter. “Only so far? Mom, how would you even know? Look at Martha Stewart—”

Virginia cut her off, “Yes, let’s look at Martha, with her stint in federal prison.”

Gabe winced. Reggie refilled her wineglass.

Reggie leaned her head back against the headrest, watching the flicker of streetlights play off Gabe’s cheekbones and jaw. A faint shadow of beard darkened his jaw, giving his features a rough cast. She could easily imagine him in the desert somewhere, hefting a big gun as he warded off enemy fire.

She closed her eyes, but that made her head spin. She really should have stopped before that last glass of wine. Maybe if she sucked down a bottle of water before she went to bed, tomorrow wouldn’t be too much of a nightmare. She rolled her head back in Gabe’s direction. “Thanks for driving.”

White teeth flashed in the darkness of the car. “The way you were pounding the wine, I don’t think I had much choice.”

Reggie grimaced, then repeated the gesture, noting with interest how rubbery her lips felt. “Sorry,” she said again. “It’s my mom. She makes me crazy.”

“I can see why.”

“I just wish, for once, she’d acknowledge what I’ve accomplished. All she sees is that her daughter has lowered herself to cooking fattening food for other people.”

He momentarily took his eyes off the road and regarded her thoughtfully. Even in her inebriated state, she felt his gaze as though he were trailing his fingers down her body.

“I guess you didn’t get your love of cooking from her.”

“No way. Tonight’s dinner was a perfect example of what my mom served on a regular basis. I learned to love food because of Maria Detaglia.” She smiled as she remembered going over to Maria’s house after school, how amazing smells permeated the air. “Maria was my best friend in grade school.”

“Her mom cooked?”

“Her mom, her dad, her grandma, aunts, uncles, everyone. Maria’s dad, Joe, is this big, burly Italian guy, and her mom is this tiny little woman he met on his tour in Vietnam. I don’t know if you know this, but the Vietnamese have an amazing culinary tradition. By the time we were eight, Maria and I were helping her mom make Bo Luc Lac and helping her dad make Bragiole on the weekends. Eating at her house was like seeing in color after living in black and white.” She fiddled with the radio, punching several buttons until she found an alternative station she liked. “I wanted to go to culinary school right out of high school, but my mom wouldn’t hear of it. And now she gives me a hard time about my lack of professional schooling.” She shook her head. “There is no pleasing that woman,” she said almost to herself. “What about your mom? Is she a good cook?”

“She’s a great cook—she and my sisters. Probably the reason I don’t cook myself, they were always chasing me away. And my grandma—she came over from Croatia when I was twelve and lived with us until she died—she used to make Prsurate; it’s kind of like a Croatian donut.”

“You should learn to cook. I remember the first meal I cooked for myself when I went away for college. Rosemary lemon chicken with mashed potatoes.” She looked over at him, smiling softly in the darkness. “Maybe I’ll teach you to cook. Kind of like a bonus plan.”

“Maybe.”

“Trust me. Cooking a meal is a guaranteed ticket into a woman’s pants.”

He glanced over, his eyebrow raised sardonically. “I seem to do okay on my own.”

Reggie knew the heat in her cheeks was not just from the wine. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

They were silent for the rest of the ride. Reggie stared out the window, and Gabe smiled when he heard her soft snore. He didn’t know what had brought on his uncharacteristic inquisitiveness. But even though he’d vowed to keep his distance, the more time he spent with Reggie Caldwell, the more he wanted to know about her.

Meeting her mother explained a lot, especially Reggie’s drive, her seeming desperation to keep her TV hosting gig at all costs. That she loved what she did was obvious, but professional recognition was obviously vital as well. Anything to get her mother’s elusive approval.

He could relate. Ever since he’d had to retire from the Special Forces, when a bullet shattered his left femur, he’d felt the need to prove himself, to show he could make a difference even if he was no longer able to serve active duty. Unwilling to settle for a desk job, he’d moved into the private sector, eager to put his skills to use at his friend’s security company.

It had been great while it lasted. Instead of putting himself in danger ridding the world of terrorists, he spent his days installing and testing high-tech security systems and making sure his clients stayed out of harm’s way. Some days he’d missed the intensity of being out on a mission. But most of the time, he enjoyed making a lot more money with a hell of a lot less risk.

And he’d lost it all over another client with big eyes and a seemingly sweet manner. He jerked upright at the swift reminder that he couldn’t let himself fall for Reggie, no matter how attractive he found her.

Unfortunately, his body, exhausted from travel and work, wasn’t inclined to listen, instead wallowing in memories of how the woman asleep in the passenger seat had felt naked against him, arching her breasts into his chest as she rode him like a rodeo queen that night in Maui.

Tugging at his fly, he shifted in his seat so his hard-on wasn’t quite so restricted. The way things were going, by the end of six weeks, he was going to have a case of blue balls for the medical books.

Reggie woke up as they pulled up to the valet. When they got to their suite, Gabe set up the foldout couch while Reggie went for the shower. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of water running, imagining what she would do if he went in there, took off his clothes, and grabbed the soap from her hands. He could almost feel her pale, smooth breasts with their dark rose nipples, slippery with soap as he cupped and massaged them in his hands. He’d pull her against him, back to front, so he could run his palms all over her tits, down her belly to that dark, luscious triangle of her sex where he’d find her plump and juicy like a ripe peach.

She’d grind her delicious ass against his rock-hard cock, teasing him and urging him on as he slid his fingers up and down her slit, dipping and teasing until she was begging him to make her come. Then he’d slide into her unforgettably tight pussy, shove so deep inside her she’d feel him at the back of her throat…

“Gabe? Are you okay?”

Reggie stood about five feet away, dressed in a pair of leopard-print pajama bottoms and a stretchy red shirt with two cats that read, F
UNNY
C
ATS IN
H
ATS
. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her damp hair tumbled around her shoulders. He wanted to suck a bruise onto the pale flesh of her neck. “I’m fine.”

“You had a funny look on your face. Bathroom’s all yours. I’ll see you in the morning.” She closed the door to her bedroom with a soft “good night.”

Gabe unbuttoned his shirt and grabbed some extra pillows from the closet. As he walked back to the bed, something on the floor caught the corner of his eye. Tossing the pillows on his bed, he walked over to pick it up.

Reggie’s bra. He fingered the silky ice blue fabric. Against all better judgment, he lifted it to his face and inhaled. The scent of warm cinnamon buns and creamy naked skin almost brought him to his knees.

To think, she was just one door away. The woman whose succulent body and sassy mouth he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. Worse, by the way she looked at him when she thought he didn’t know, he knew she’d take him up on it.

Reggie shifted restlessly on the bed. Despite the wine at dinner, she was too wired to sleep. She’d hoped the hot shower would help her wind down. But as she’d rubbed her own soapy hands over her wet skin, she’d found herself wishing Gabe would ignore his professional code of ethics and walk through that door and join her. Flustered, she’d finished with a quick, cold rinse and made a beeline for the bedroom before she did something stupid. Like try to jump him.

She flipped over on her back, trying to ignore the awareness that made every nerve ending tingle. She could feel him through the paper thin walls, his heat, his masculinity, surging over her, overwhelming her with memories of the single, sultry night they’d shared.

As though with a will of its own, her hand trailed down her belly, lifting the hem of her pajama top so she could feel her own smooth skin. She remembered Gabe’s callused fingertips sliding over her, drifting up her ribcage to capture the soft weight of her breasts. His dark, fathomless eyes had flared with heat as he’d pulled her dress off her shoulders, revealing her to his gaze.

“Your nipples are the same gorgeous pink as your lips,” he murmured, sucking and licking one into his mouth. His thumb slid inside the lace edge of her panties, brushing over her clit in a matching rhythm. “I wonder what color these beautiful lips are.” His thumb traced the dripping seam of her sex, teasing the entrance of her body with shallow thrusts of his fingers.

Reggie’s thumb and forefinger pinched at her own nipple as wet heat pooled between her legs. God, it had been so long since she had been touched, since she had been fucked. Her other hand slid into her panties, fingers sliding into her damp, swollen folds. Her clit was a firm, throbbing bud, dying for the touch of the man sleeping on the couch less than twenty feet away.

Her breath hissed at the first touch of her sensitive skin, and she nearly came at the first brush of her finger. But as much as she needed the release, she wanted to slow down, savor it. It was pathetic, masturbating while the man she craved was so close by, but she couldn’t face another rejection. So for the first time since Gabe had reappeared in her life, she allowed herself to relive every look, every touch, every stroke.

He gazed down at her as she lay sprawled on the bed, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Damn, darlin’, you’re about the sweetest piece I’ve ever seen.” His drawl thickened with every syllable. “But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t treat you properly.”

From what she could tell, there was nothing “proper” about their behavior, but she wasn’t about to argue as he started dropping soft moist kisses down her neck and across her collarbones.

She twined her fingers in his hair, tugging insistently until his mouth hovered over her rock hard nipple. The harsh, hungry sound he made as his lips pulled firmly sent a jolt of heat straight to her pussy. The hot, rigid length of his cock burned against her inner thigh, and she squirmed in anticipation of feeling his thick length buried inside her.

“Sweet thing, you taste so good I hardly know where to start.” He lavished attention on her breasts, alternating almost rough sucking with gentle, teasing lashes of his tongue. Oh God, she wanted—needed to—feel that skillful tongue on her pussy. Tugging at his hair, she guided his head down her belly.

“You read my mind.” He landed a wet, sucking kiss just below her belly button and slid her panties down her legs. “Mm, you smell like peaches.” With a purely male sound of satisfaction he stroked his thumbs against her plump lips, spreading her wide for his hungry mouth.

Reggie circled her clit with her middle finger, wishing it was Gabe’s tongue flicking against the turgid flesh.

She nearly came at the first touch of his tongue, lapping at her clit before slipping down to probe her drenched slit.

She dipped her finger inside her throbbing pussy, imagining it was his thick cock pressing deep.

He soaked the plump head of his cock in her juices, stretching her wide as he sank into her with one powerful stroke. “Honey, you’re so tight and sweet,” he moaned, increasing the pace of his thrusts as she hitched her legs over his hips, opening herself more fully. “Your pussy feels so good, squeezing me like a tight little fist.”

No one had ever talked to her like this, in such graphic terms, and she would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t been so turned on. Sharp moans erupted from her chest in tandem with his thrusts. He reared up and grabbed her hips, driving into her in a hard, circling rhythm that made her thrash against the sheets and claw at the slick skin of his back.

Her fingers stilled on her clit as she sought to hold her orgasm at bay, just for a few more seconds. She wanted to draw it out, relive the memory of him fucking her deep and hard for just a little longer.

He stilled his thrusts, watching her with hot, dark eyes as he traced his thumb against her lower lip, pressing it inside her mouth for her to suck. Then he settled that moist thumb in the slick folds of her pussy, right where they were joined. He held himself deep, impossibly deep inside her, grinding as his thumb circled and pressed against her throbbing clit.

“Open your eyes, Gina.” A long slow slide, a stroke of his thumb. “Open your eyes and look at me when you come.”

Her finger increased the pressure on her clit, every nerve pulsing as she imagined him watching her again. Her eyes drifted closed and she bit her lip against the cry working its way up her throat. She was coming, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t the same without his thick cock driving inside her.

But unless Gabe walked through the door, it would have to do. As the last tremors of her climax receded, she rolled to her stomach, willing herself to sleep.

Gabe had nearly drifted off when the soft noise penetrated the haze of near sleep. He slipped off the couch and padded toward Reggie’s door. There it was again, a soft, high sound, a hitch of her breath carrying through the thin plywood door. His cock went instantly hard as he remembered her making a similar sound, only louder, when he had sucked her clit into his mouth for the first time.