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  She thought her outfit would be a good start. Alicia would approve of the slip dress, the high-heeled slides, the braided leather jewelry and the upswept hairdo. Sam would never connect her with the kid he'd wrestled with in the pool all those years ago.

  Pacing her apartment, she reminded herself that she couldn't be too enthusiastic about the Tin Tarantulas, either. Even though she'd loved their music the one time she'd heard them play, they definitely appealed to the college crowd more than young professionals. And she was a young professional now. She should act slightly bored.

  Maybe she needed to practice her slightly bored expression. After returning to her bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and tried out a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes. Yeah, that was good. A world-weary, tolerant smile, perhaps. Excellent.

  Her doorbell rang, and she yelped softly. World-weary disappeared as her heart pumped faster and her palms grew sweaty. Sam Ashton had arrived to take her out for the evening. How amazing was that?

  She dried her shaking hands on a towel, took one last glance at her flushed cheeks, and decided she'd have to work on her bored expression later. Right now she looked and felt exactly like that little kid who'd received her first bouquet of flowers twelve years ago.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  «^»

  Sam stood at Kasey's door holding a dozen first-cut red roses in a cone of green tissue paper. In his early and poor-guy dating years he'd gone for the bargain roses, not understanding that those had been trimmed at least three times and wouldn't last more than a few days. First-cut lasted much longer, long enough to make a real impression.

  That's what Sam intended to do. He had a gut feeling about this woman. Although he'd be hard-pressed to explain why she seemed so right for him, he was letting his instincts dictate his actions. Thus the pricey roses on the first date. He wanted to let her know he wasn't kidding around.

  When she opened the door and he got a look at her red slip dress and take-me-now shoes, he was doubly glad he'd brought the first-class roses. A woman who looked like Kasey Braddock had seen her share of bouquets, and he wanted his to stand out from the crowd.

  "Hi," she said. "Wow, roses."

  "And I'm sure glad I picked red." He handed her the bouquet. If she was used to getting flowers, she didn't let on. "I'm guessing it's your favorite color."

  "It's my new favorite color. Come in and I'll find a vase for these."

  "It should be your favorite color." He stepped inside the door. "You look terrific in it."

  "Thanks." She gave him a quick smile. "Have a seat. I'll be back in a sec."

  He nodded, although he had no intention of sitting down. He'd be able to get a better view of her apartment if he stood right where he was.

  What he saw surprised him a little. It looked like a college pad instead of a career girl's place. Makeshift bookcases of bricks and boards overflowed with paperbacks, hardbacks and what looked like textbooks. A futon took the place of a regular couch, and over it hung posters from various art galleries. The women he'd dated recently had graduated to real furniture and professionally framed prints.

  The place was neat enough, but it didn't look as if she'd spent lots of time thinking about decorating. One scraggly pothos in dire need of repotting hung from a hook in the ceding, and the coffee table looked like a hand-me-down from her parents.

  Okay, so she wasn't domestic, wasn't into nest-building. Was that such a problem? Reluctantly he admitted it might be. Nest-building instincts ranked pretty high on his list these days.

  Then she walked back into the room holding the flowers, her cheeks flushed and the rosebuds a perfect match for her lipstick, and he forgot about his nest-building requirements. Hell, if this turned into something wonderful, he could build the damned nest. Roles were changing more every day. So what if she didn't own a decent crystal vase and had plunked his roses in a cheap glass one that looked like it had been stashed in a cupboard for years.

  "Thank you for the flowers. They're gorgeous." From her expression, anyone would think he'd given her diamonds.

  He found her enthusiasm sexy. Maybe she didn't bother decorating her apartment or buying crystal because she had too many other exciting things in her life, like asking a complete stranger to have dinner with her.

  "Okay." She set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and scooped up a small purse from the futon. "I'm ready."

  He thought of her license plate. Yep, her vibrant approach to life really turned him on. "Then let's go."

  * * *

  Halfway through the meal, Kasey congratulated herself on how well she was doing. Probably because the restaurant was upscale, the waiter hadn't carded her when Sam had ordered a bottle of red to go with the pasta. She was relieved about that. Although she had the fake ID, she didn't want to use it more than necessary, in case somebody spotted it as bogus.

  As per her plan, she'd steered the conversation so they talked about Sam. During the antipasto, she'd confirmed what she already knew, that his family had moved to Oregon right after his senior year in high school. He'd gone to college up there but never could get used to the weather, so he'd decided to come back to Phoenix to build his landscaping business.

  With a little prompting, she got him to talk about his business during the main course. She didn't blame him for being proud of what he'd accomplished, creating a thriving enterprise during tough economic times. Besides, she liked listening to him. There was a sexy, husky sound to his voice that hadn't been there when he was eighteen.

  "The tree you worked on today looks amazing," she said. "Like a sculpture. How did you learn to do that?"

  He put down his wineglass and gazed across the table at her, a little smile on his face. "Oh, I've had a lot of practice. Besides, it's fun. I like climbing trees. It's probably not much different from you designing a PR campaign. How do you go about that, by the way?"

  Although it was an innocent enough question, she pegged it as an attempt to switch the topic to her. "Trust me, it's not half as interesting as what you do. So, what's the biggest landscaping challenge you've ever had?"

  He grinned at her. "I'm beginning to think you've dated a bunch of egomaniacs."

  "Why?"

  "Oh, just the way you've made sure we talked about me all the time. Maybe the other guys wanted to bask in that constant limelight, but I'd love to hear something about you."

  "I'm … I'm not all that fascinating." It was a truthful statement. She was hoping to become fascinating, but that would require more seasoning. He was to be part of the process, although he didn't know that.

  "Come on. A woman who drives a red convertible with such an interesting license plate?"

  So here was the fatal flaw in her plan. With the car, the dress, even the shoes, she'd presented herself as a daring Sex and the City kind of girl. She'd hoped that concentrating on him would prevent the spotlight from being turned on her. Spotlights picked up discrepancies. She wondered what she could offer up that would fit the image she'd projected without telling him too much.

  Then she remembered her current project at work. "Well, right now I'm designing an image make over for Slightly Scandalous."

  His eyebrows rose. "Really."

  "So you know the place?"

  "Um, yeah, I've heard of it."

  From his initial reaction she thought he'd had more intimate contact than that. At any rate, sexy underwear seemed to be a savvy topic that went with the red car and the license plate. She'd get some mileage out of it.

  "They've seen how well Victoria's Secret is doing," she said, "and they want some of that market. They've rented mall space and they want a classier image when they move."

  "So how do you do that? I mean, when I think of Slightly Scandalous, I think of G-strings and those bras with the cutouts … everywhere."

  Having him mention such things changed the atmosphere of the table, and maybe that's what she needed. She wouldn't get him to drool over a discussion about trimming trees
. "Exactly. It's all about branding. If I do my job right, when you think of Slightly Scandalous, you'll picture a runway model in silk underwear that's decent enough to be shown on national TV and yet still very sexy."

  "So they're giving up on the other stuff?" He sounded disappointed.

  "Pretty much. There's a niche market for the over-the-top lingerie, but apparently they were struggling to capture that." She decided a happening chick would be bold. "Face it, did you ever go in there?"

  A flush stole up from the open collar of his silk shirt. "Maybe I should plead the Fifth on that one"

  Which meant he had bought naughty lingerie at some time, for some woman in his life. Kasey wondered what that would be like, having a man like Sam bring her a present of underwear that he expected her to model for him. The idea gave her goose bumps.

  "I have the feeling I've just incriminated myself," he said.

  "Not at all." But he'd made himself seem even sexier, if that was possible. She reminded herself to keep playing the role of sophisticated city girl. "I know men have fantasies."

  His gaze intensified. "I've been told women have them, too."

  "Well, of course." She sounded nervous, damn it. She decided to retreat a little. "That's what my project's about, tapping into women's fantasies instead of catering to a man's. Women usually want their fantasies packaged more subtly."

  "How about you? How do you like your fantasies packaged?"

  I'm looking at it. "Oh, I'm probably like most women."

  "I seriously doubt that. Play fair, now. I've pretty much admitted to buying something at Slightly Scandalous. The least you can do is confess that you've worn something from there."

  As if. "Uh, well, I—"

  "Your pink cheeks are giving you away, Kasey." He smiled. "I know a bad girl when I see one. But for the record, wearing an outfit from Slightly Scandalous is okay with me."

  She knew she was in over her head. But the thing was, she'd nearly accomplished her mission. Sam looked like a man who could hardly wait to get her alone.

  Picking up her goblet, she borrowed his line. "I'll have to take the Fifth on that." Then she drained the glass before setting it back on the table.

  He let out a breath. "You know how to turn a man inside out, don't you?" He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass.

  She made a command decision not to drink another drop. Finishing off her glass had seemed like a big-girl sort of gesture, but now she was feeling light-headed and giggly. Any more of that delicious red stuff and she was liable to tell Sam her entire life story. Nope, she'd stick with water from here on out.

  In fact, a drink of water might settle her jumpy nerves. The way Sam was looking at her, she had the feeling she'd started something she might not be ready to finish. She picked up her water glass and took a cooling swallow.

  "I've been dying to ask you—how did you get that little scar on your lip?"

  She choked on the water. As an unplanned distraction, it worked well. Sam was out of his seat in no time, patting her back and murmuring words of concern.

  Gradually she could breathe again, and she begged him to go back to his seat. Other diners had begun to stare and even the waiter had come by to make sure she was all right.

  Sam eased back into his chair. "Sure you're okay?"

  "Fine. Just embarrassed. You'd think by now I'd have learned how to swallow water."

  "I hope it wasn't something I said."

  "No, no, nothing like that."

  "If mentioning that little scar upset you, I'm really sorry."

  "Goodness, no. It's an old childhood injury. Most of the time I forget it's even there." She'd always cherished that scar, though, because it reminded her of Sam. He really had been her fantasy guy for years. That was one negative thing about running into him again. Chances were he wouldn't be able to live up to the image she'd created for him.

  "I'll bet you were goofing around on the playground equipment," he said.

  "Something like that." And they needed to get off this subject before she let some detail slip.

  "I remember wrestling with my buddy's kid sister years ago in their swimming pool. I got too rough and she ended up needing stitches. I felt like a jerk."

  She had to work very hard not to react. "You shouldn't have. I'm sure it wasn't intentional."

  "Yeah, but I should have been more careful. She was just a kid—only about seven or eight. I can't even remember her name, but I can still see that little face, with an ice pack crammed against her mouth."

  "I'm sure she recovered." Although she missed you dreadfully and carried you in her heart for years.

  "Oh, I'm sure she did, too. I checked with my buddy after a couple of months, to make sure. But then he went into the service and we lost track of each other. I haven't tried to find him since I got back. I should. Maybe that's why we're having this conversation, to remind me to look up my old buddy Jim and see if he's back in town."

  And Kasey couldn't stop him from doing that, either. One evening with Jim could be enough to blow her cover. She might as well enjoy this date with Sam, because there was a good chance she'd never have another one.

  * * *

  By the end of the meal, Sam hadn't made much progress in getting to know Kasey. And he wanted to get to know her, because physically she was driving him crazy. In the old days he would have given in to that physical urge and figured that he'd get around to the friendship part later. Now that seemed backward to him. He wanted to establish a relationship first.

  Kasey wasn't helping. Being a mystery woman seemed to appeal to her, and that attitude had one-night stand written all over it. Maybe that's what she had in mind. After all, she'd made the first move and she'd insisted on paying for dinner. He'd tried to get the check, but she'd outmaneuvered him.

  So maybe he was designated as her boy-toy for the night. He wasn't about to fall in with that plan. Of course he wasn't. Not even if he did find himself staring at her mouth and longing to stare at her cleavage.

  He wanted to touch her … all over. As they left the restaurant, he settled for holding her hand. Even that simple contact aroused him. He should be offended at the idea that she might want him just for sex and nothing more. Instead he was challenged by it.

  Unfortunately, the next part of the evening wouldn't allow much conversation between them. He had about three blocks before they'd be drawn into the noisy world of the Cactus Club. After that, they'd have to read lips.

  "Do your folks live in Phoenix?" he asked, trying yet again.

  "Uh, no. Gilbert."

  "That area sure is growing. Is that where you went to school?"

  "Not exactly. Whoops, the light's about to change. We'll have to hurry to make it." She tugged at his hand.

  He resisted. "Maybe I don't care."

  "Oh." She gave him a wary glance. "All right. We can wait until the light changes."

  He decided the time had come for some gentle persuasion. Taking her other hand, he pulled her closer. "Kasey, why are you hiding from me?"

  She laughed. "Hiding? Why would you say that?"

  "Because every time I try to learn something about you, you find a way to avoid answering." He released his grip on her hands and cupped her shoulders. What silky skin she had. "I want to get to know you." He wondered if he was imagining the quick look of panic in her eyes.

  Then it was gone, and she smiled. "In what way?"

  In every way. "You know—the kinds of things you liked to do as a kid, the type of music you like, whether you have a favorite team or hate sports altogether."

  "I like baseball, and my favorite team is the Diamondbacks."

  "Me, too." But out of all the things he'd asked, she'd picked the least personal one to answer. Most everyone in Phoenix liked the home team. Nevertheless, although he really knew nothing more than he had before, he found himself caressing her shoulders and wanting to kiss her. Theoretically, he shouldn't get involved in a kiss with a woman who held her cards so close to her ches
t.

  But what a chest it was, and he longed to know how it felt locked against his. "Okay, that's a start." He drew her closer. "How about music?"

  "I like everything."

  "Everything?" He couldn't take his gaze from her mouth. So tempting. "Even rap?"

  "Some rap is okay."

  He loved the way her lips rounded as she said the o in okay. "Can you sing?" It was a goofy question, but he was so focused on her mouth it seemed semilogical.

  "Not very well." She looked up at him. "Can you?"

  "Not very well." Then temptation overtook him. Forgetting why he didn't want to do this yet, he leaned down and kissed her.

  And what a mistake that was, because she kissed him back. She might not want to tell him anything about herself, but she was perfectly willing to kiss him as if the end of the world had arrived. Her lips parted, her tongue became involved, and when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, she settled against him with a soft moan of delight.

  As kisses went, this one topped the charts. He tasted hunger as strong as his own, which filled his mind with all sorts of ideas he wasn't supposed to be having. In fact, much more of this kiss and they were liable to get themselves arrested. He pulled back with difficulty and looked into her eyes to double-check that he hadn't misread her level of involvement. Yep—eyes glazed, chest heaving, body quivering. Just like his.

  "I … had a feeling about this," he said.

  "N-not me."

  "Boy, I did. Sometimes there's just … something between two people." Now there was a profound statement. Sheesh. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, as if trying to restore the circulation, which was ridiculous. Judging from her reaction, her circulation was currently excellent. Speaking for himself, he could feel the blood whipping through his veins and arteries at warp speed.

  "Something explosive." She still sounded out of breath.

  "Right. But I believe in getting to know each other first."