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  He set the water bottle and the crackers on the flagstone. "A man—not to mention a woman—does not live by sex alone." He grinned at her as he unfolded the blanket and draped it over the hammock. "But it sure would be fun trying."

  "Uh-huh." Other than movie-star crushes, there'd never been a guy she'd choose over a plate of excellent pasta. Sam had demonstrated that sex with him was better than anything else on the menu.

  Once the blanket was arranged, he attempted to crawl into the hammock beside Kasey and nearly toppled her onto the ground.

  "Hey!" She started laughing as she hung on to the wildly swinging hammock. "I thought you knew your way around these things!"

  "Are you kidding?" He climbed out again and grabbed the edge to slow it down. "I just bought it last week. This is its maiden voyage."

  "Really?" She wished he hadn't told her that. When she cut him loose, the hammock might be ruined for him, and here it was, brand-new.

  "I bought it with the idea that I'd lie out here and read, but so far I haven't taken the time." He started to get in again. "This can't be that tough."

  "Hold on. I have a suggestion." Kasey didn't know much about hammocks, either, but she was good at problem-solving. "I'll put one foot on the ground. When you climb in, leave one foot on the ground. Then we'll keep it balanced and lift both feet off at the same time."

  "Makes sense." He waited for her to position her foot on the flagstone. Then he carefully eased in beside her, leaving one of his feet planted firmly on the other side.

  "That's it. Now, on three—one, two, three." The hammock swayed slightly, but they were both in, snug as two bugs under the blanket.

  "That's what I love about smart women," he said. "They're full of good ideas."

  "Thanks." Not every guy thought she was full of good ideas. She'd met a few who insisted on doing things their way, even if their way wasn't working. Sam didn't seem to let his ego run the show. He'd make a good catch for some lucky woman.

  "Now for the goodies." He reached down and picked up the water bottle. "Have a swig."

  "Don't mind if I do." She popped the nozzle and took a drink. It wasn't water. "Wine?"

  "Yeah. The connoisseurs would have a fit if they caught me serving Chardonnay in a water bottle, but it's easier to drink this way here, and besides, the bottle's sort of symbolic of how we met."

  Don't do that. She didn't want him getting sentimental. That would make the inevitable that much tougher. "It sure is a great delivery system if you're lying in a hammock."

  "That's what I thought." He opened the cracker box and held it toward her. "I hope you like wheat crackers."

  "Love 'em." She took one and popped it into her mouth. "Have some wine." She passed the bottle over.

  "We could pretend this is one of those goatskin flasks they used to have in the olden days." He poured a stream of wine into his open mouth.

  She watched him and smiled. "This is fun."

  He swallowed the wine and turned to look into her eyes. "It is fun. Thanks for christening the hammock with me. That was incredible."

  "Sure was." She still got quivers of sensation thinking about it. "Do you think anybody heard us?"

  "If they did, at least they didn't call the police. But it's late. I'm sure everyone else is asleep."

  "You should probably be asleep, too. Tomorrow's a workday."

  He chewed and swallowed a cracker. "Ask me if I care."

  "Do you care?" she asked, laughing.

  "No. Do you?"

  "No."

  "Good. Have some more wine."

  She drank it the way he had, directing a stream from the pop-up top into her open mouth.

  "I'm getting the urge to kiss you again."

  Swallowing the wine, she glanced over at him. He'd turned on his side and was looking at her the way she imagined a fox surveyed the henhouse. But if he acted on the impulse she saw lurking in his eyes, he'd send them both sprawling to the flagstone. "There is no way in hell we can get wild when we're both on this hammock," she said.

  "I know. I've already tried to imagine whether it would be possible, and I think one of us would wreck something valuable in the process." He reached behind him to deposit the box of crackers on the patio. Then he slipped his hand under the blanket and explored until he found her breast. "I just want to make out a little," he said, caressing her gently. "Nothing heavy."

  She loved being petted like that, and now that he'd planted the idea, she found herself wanting to feel his lips on hers again, too. "Okay." She set the water bottle on the other side of the hammock and turned to him.

  "Okay." He cupped her cheek and edged closer. The hammock swayed but didn't threaten to dump them. "Hold still, now."

  "I've heard that line before."

  "You were wonderful to humor me about that." He touched his mouth to hers, then ran his tongue along her lower lip.

  "I was curious to see if you could manage it."

  "We managed it." Then he settled in and started seriously kissing her.

  Nice, she thought as he applied exactly the right amount of pressure, all the while massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples. After that, she forgot to evaluate. Sam's brand of kissing bypassed her brain and headed straight for her nerve endings, making them sizzle and pop, creating aches and needs and urges that prompted her to caress him in return.

  She knew full well where his central operation was located. When she rubbed her hand over the fly of his shorts, she discovered his claim that he only wanted to make out a little had not been truth-in-advertising. He was ready to rumble.

  He lifted his mouth a fraction away from hers. "What are you doing?"

  "Testing. I thought this was going to be low-pressure sex."

  "I admit I can't kiss you without getting hard. So sue me."

  "Nope. I really like it out here. We'll take a break and drink wine. We'll have a conversation."

  Conversations made her nervous. She unfastened his shorts. "I have a better idea."

  "Kasey, we'll dump."

  "If you lie still, we won't." Unzipping his fly, she gradually scooted toward the foot of the hammock. It trembled but didn't tip.

  "Something tells me I'd be a wise man to follow orders."

  "I think you would." She was no expert at this, but from her brief experience, she didn't think men required perfection. Hampered by the unsteady nature of the hammock, she couldn't move much, either. But she could take his penis into her mouth.

  Apparently that pleased him, because he groaned in ecstasy.

  Being careful not to rock the hammock, she did the best she could with her tongue. From the way he was breathing like a freight train, she must be accomplishing something worthwhile. Using gentle suction and a swirling motion with her tongue, she soon had him trembling so violently she decided to finish him off before they ended up in a heap on the flagstone, after all.

  Applying greater suction, she moved her head up and down just enough to provide some friction. That was all it took. His breath hissed out between his clenched teeth as he erupted.

  He was still gasping for air when she inched her way back up and nestled in beside him. A man became so vulnerable at a time like this, she thought. She'd intended the move to delay conversation between them.

  Conversation could only lead to trouble, but as it turned out, she was in trouble, anyway. She was becoming very softhearted about Sam Ashton.

  * * *

  They weren't getting much talking done, Sam had to admit. But he didn't know a guy in the world who would complain about that considering the way they'd occupied their time. He couldn't have guessed that Kasey would be willing to do what she'd just done so that he wouldn't be in sexual distress. What a woman.

  "Wine?" she asked once his breathing had returned to normal.

  "You're fantastic." He slipped his arm around her and kissed her talented mouth. "Thank you."

  "I was a little hampered by conditions."

  "I couldn't tell." He took the water b
ottle and drank a couple of swallows of wine, congratulating himself for thinking of a way they could have it out here without spilling it all over themselves. Maybe Kasey's intelligence was rubbing off.

  As she settled into the crook of his arm, he passed the wine back to her. "Crackers?"

  "Sure."

  Wedging the box between them, he waited for her to take some before getting a handful for himself. "I think what I like about this garden is how simple everything seems when I'm out here."

  "That's an illusion, you know." She munched on some crackers.

  "Maybe, maybe not. Take the way we met. We saw each other today, made a date, and here we are. Everything just worked out."

  "I guess that's true." She handed him the wine.

  He took another drink, savoring the smooth taste that was only slightly tainted with plastic. All the exercise, good sex and now the wine was taking its toll. He was getting sleepy. He blinked to stay awake. Sooner or later he'd have to take Kasey home. They both had to work in the morning, and she didn't have a change of clothes here.

  Someday that situation could be different. Ordinarily he wouldn't be planning a long-term relationship after one night, but this date had been far from ordinary. Certainly Kasey would agree with him on that.

  "Would you rather sleep a little here?" he murmured, hoping she'd say yes. "I'm sure the birds will wake us up in plenty of time."

  No answer.

  "Kasey?" He turned his head to check on her.

  She lay with her cheek pillowed against his outstretched arm, fast asleep.

  Carefully he closed the cracker box and set it on the flagstone along with the water bottle. Then he settled back with a sigh and gazed up at the half moon. In a few days the moon would be full. He'd like to be right here on that night, snuggling with Kasey. With the way things had gone so far, he saw no reason that wouldn't happen.

  * * *

  A garbage truck in the alley behind the wall woke Sam from a most excellent dream in which he seemed to be getting married. In the dream, he'd been very excited about the idea. Then his night with Kasey came flooding back, and he knew how his mind had made that leap to a wedding.

  But he had more immediate concerns, like getting her back home so she wouldn't be late for work. The garbage truck came about seven-thirty, so they had no time to waste. Still, he didn't want to startle her. They could both end up sprawled on the cold hard patio if she moved too abruptly.

  He'd lost all feeling in the arm she'd used to support her head, so he reached over with his other arm and held her steady while he murmured her name.

  "What?" She came instantly awake and tried to struggle upright.

  "Easy, babe. Easy." Fortunately he had the presence of mind to slam one foot on the ground to anchor them, or they would have tipped. Her trick. He really did like knowing she was so smart.

  She groaned and flopped back onto his numb arm. "What time is it?"

  "About seven-thirty."

  "Yikes! We have to get going! Omigosh. Help me out of here, Sam!"

  He smiled to himself. "One foot out, just like we got in." Obviously he'd have to be the calm one in a crisis. That was okay. He liked that role.

  "Oh. Right. Okay, I have one foot out Do you have one foot out?"

  "I do. Good morning, by the way."

  "We don't have time for good mornings. Ready? On three. One, two, three."

  He scrambled out of the hammock and stood shaking his tingling arm. "All right. Now we'll—"

  "I'll be dressed in two minutes." She ran across the patio barefoot and threw open his kitchen door.

  He shook his head. She was more panicked than he'd expected. Sure, being late for work wasn't a great idea, but it wasn't a total disaster. Ten years ago he might have thought that, but he'd learned that the world didn't revolve around him. Maybe she'd made a habit of being late in the past and had no leeway with her boss.

  In that case, he'd do all he could to get her home in time. After picking up the water bottle and crackers, he walked into the house in search of his wallet and keys.

  He didn't have to search far. She was already headed down the hall holding his shoes in one hand and his wallet and keys in the other. His dad had a saying for this—being given the bum's rush.

  "I guess being late for work is a really bad thing," he said.

  "I don't want my boss to think I'm irresponsible." She handed him his shoes.

  Fortunately they were loafers, and he could slip right into them. He took the wallet and keys and decided he'd drive her there without worrying about a shirt. "Being late once would brand you as irresponsible?"

  "Maybe not." She looked harried and young, especially now that most of her makeup was gone. "But I don't want to take that chance."

  "I'm sorry I put you in this position, then." He unlocked the front door and ushered her out. "I'll get you home as fast as possible."

  "Thank you."

  He decided against conversation on the way to her place. Then she'd know he was putting all his concentration on his driving. He got her there in record time and was proud of himself. If she took a short shower and skipped breakfast, she'd make it to work on time.

  She hopped out the minute he stopped the car. "Thanks, Sam."

  "Can I see you tonight?"

  She hesitated, uneasiness in her expression. "Well, the thing is, I—"

  "Oh, yeah. You had something going on tonight. I remember now. So I'll call you later today. We'll work it out."

  "Okay. See you." She hurried up the walkway to her apartment complex.

  He watched her go and cursed himself for not waking up earlier. This wasn't how their fantastic night was supposed to end, with her feeling so rushed that they couldn't even say a proper goodbye or make another date. He wished she'd at least smiled and said she'd had a great time. Apparently her worry about being late wasn't allowing her to do that.

  With a sigh, he put his car in Reverse and then drove home.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  "Damn, damn, damn," Kasey muttered as she whipped through her shower and threw on clean clothes. She hadn't been able to deliver the final blow, after all. How could she, when there was no time to spare, no time to break it to him gently?

  Only a mean person would have been able to chop Sam off at the knees when there was zero time to give a compassionate goodbye speech. She hadn't planned on a long one, but at least long enough to explain that it wasn't his fault. So she'd reluctantly postponed saying what needed to be said.

  Maybe she shouldn't be so paranoid about being late, but Mr. Beckworth had voiced reservations about hiring someone so young, claiming that a woman her age might not take the job seriously enough. It was a dumb prejudice on his part, but she'd proceeded to bend over backward to prove how responsible she was. Besides, there was a staff meeting this morning, and her lateness would be noticed for sure.

  Because she couldn't explain all that to Sam without revealing her age, she'd had to let him think she was a nut case about punctuality. She did like to be on time, and at Beckworth, she'd made certain she was always on time. Mr. Beckworth had commented favorably on that more than once.

  But what bothered her more than anything at the moment was that in the cold light of day, she realized she'd completely messed up her Bad Girl routine. All she'd meant to do was make Sam drool a little and then walk away. Instead she'd slept with him after convincing herself that having sex would ruin his idea of hiring her for PR work.

  In fact, she'd been looking for an excuse, any excuse, to satisfy her lust. Her reasoning had been faulty, because Sam couldn't understand why having sex meant they couldn't work together. And he was right—if she didn't tell anyone what she'd done, which of course she wouldn't. Had she only flirted and walked away, she could have bragged about that to her cohorts. But she'd turned over the goods. No glory in that.

  When she pulled into the parking lot next to the office building that housed Beckworth, it seemed impo
ssible that only one day had passed. Just yesterday morning she'd parked her car here, vaguely aware of a man in a truck behind her, a man who might have accidentally leaned on the horn. Just yesterday she'd seen Sam Ashton, the object of her childhood crush, manicuring a tree in front of the Beckworth windows. And she'd drawn the long straw.

  She was glad for the meeting this morning, which would give her an hour or so to rehearse her story. And she would be on time, just barely. Sam had navigated the streets with the intensity of a NASCAR driver so that she'd make it to work okay.

  The tree he'd trimmed actually did look like a piece of sculpture now, with bare lower limbs undulating upward to a canopy of feathered branches. She remembered how hard he'd worked all day before spending a long, physically demanding night with her. He must be in pretty good shape for thirty, because he'd never complained about being tired.

  She'd had a much easier day, and yet she'd been the first one to fall asleep. His gentle voice and the music of the waterfall had lulled her into dreamland. What a night it had been. And what a mess she'd created.

  She rode the elevator alone and slipped into the office conference room just as Arnold Beckworth opened the meeting. While Beckworth talked about aggressively pursuing new accounts, Kasey's buddies kept glancing at her, either smirking or waggling their eyebrows questioningly. They were obviously dying to pump her about her date with Tarzan of the Chain Saw.

  How ironic that Beckworth would be on a tear about pursuing new business and she was trying to get rid of a potential client as quickly as possible. She'd have to wait for Sam to call her, though. Because he'd picked her up, she hadn't needed his home phone number, and during their exciting date she hadn't thought to ask for it. She hesitated to call him at work because he might be climbing trees again and answering a phone call would be difficult. Besides, she didn't want him to think she was eager to be in touch with him.