The Sexiest Man Alive. Sandra Marton

arms that held her were powerful. The chest she leaned against was muscular, as were the thighs that cradled her bottom.

      Susannah flushed.

      All right. Perhaps there were things about him some women might find attractive. Some Not her.

      “Doing an assessment?” he asked softly.

      Susannah blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

      Matthew’s smile tilted “You seemed to be taking inventory, Miss Madison. I wonder—do I come up to par?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coldly.

      He laughed, and settled his arms more comfortably around her. “Let’s return to my question, shall we? Do you know your IQ?”

      “I don’t see what my IQ has to do with anything, Mr. Romano.”

      “Humor me.”

      Susannah folded her arms. “Take two of your female friends, add them together and tack on half of one more, and you’re getting close.”

      Matthew grinned. “That’s perfect.”

      “I’ve always thought so.”

      “It’s excellent.”

      “I’m delighted you approve, but I fail to see what my IQ has to do with anything,”

      “It’s quite simple, Miss Madison.” Matthew shifted her so that she was facing him. “I’m going to prove that you’re wrong, and I want to be sure to do it by a wide enough martin.”

      “What?” Susannah said.

      It was all she had time to say, because less than a heartbeat later, Matthew Romano’s mouth closed over hers.

      His lips were firm and warm. They settled over hers with an authority that, for a second, anyway, stunned her into immobility.

      But it didn’t last.

      He knew the instant reality hit. She went from shocked compliance to horrified rigidity m his arms. Next, she’d begin to struggle. Except he wouldn’t let things go that far.

      Matthew wasn’t a man who got pleasure from overpowering women. Pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, came from giving as well as receiving. He liked to feel a woman’s heartbeat quicken, to have her sigh his name and turn to warm honey in his arms. And he certainly didn’t enjoy making love to a woman he found unattractive, in spirit as well as body.

      As soon as Susannah Madison began fighting him, he would let her go. All this was about, all he wanted, was to show her for the sharp-tongued witch she was.

      She couldn’t claw his male dignity to shreds and get away with it.

      It was a fine idea. Unfortunately, there were factors he’d failed to take into consideration.

      The softness of Susannah’s mouth.

      The scent of her skin.

      The race of her heart.

      The feel of her in his arms.

      He’d expected to be kissing a sour old maid. But he found himself kissing a dream instead.

      She began to struggle. It was time to let her go.

      But he didn’t want to

      He wanted to stroke her hair. To slip his tongue into her mouth. To shape her body with his hands and taste all its sweet, hidden places.

      “Susannah,” he whispered against her lips “Susannah.”

      He sank his hands into her hair, fit his mouth more carefully over hers and softened the kiss. And all at once she wasn’t fighting him She was kissing him back.

      She was kissing him, this man who’d just forced his kiss upon her, this man she’d despised on sight. She was kissing him, and loving it.

      The taste of him.

      The feel.

      The incredible hardness of his body.

      The shocking tenderness of his mouth.

      What am I doing? Susannah asked herself. And then she gave up thinking and tumbled into the magic of the kiss.

      She’d never known a kiss could be like this, that her heart could hammer in her throat just at the feel of a man’s lips on hers The sensation was beyond comprehension. She felt as if she were slipping away from herself, and it was wonderful. Nothing existed but the moment and Matthew.

      He moved so that she was lying fully against him. When he did, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. There was a thudding sound somewhere m the distance. Was it the sound of her heart?

      Was somebody calling her name?

      Was a voice saying, “Suze?”

      It wasn’t Matthew. He hadn’t seemed to know her name a little while ago. Now he was holding her, kissing her, whispering “Susannah,” over and over against her lips.

      “Matthew,” she sighed.

      He groaned, bent his head, gently nipped her throat.

      She dug her fingers into his hair. Desire shot through her. She felt reckless and bold.

      He was silk and steel, fire and ice. And she was burning.

      His hand swept up, cupped her breast. She arched against the caress, riding the sensation of his touch. Her breath caught in an ecstatic sob as he shoved up her sweatshirt and stroked his fingertips over the satin of her flesh. She cried out and ground her bottom against the hardness of him.

      He rose, holding her. His embrace was powerful. She felt fragile, eager, filled with need for him. She clung to him, her hands locked behind his head, her mouth opening to his hot, hungry kisses. Papers, books, pencils flew from the conference table as he lay her down upon it.

      “Susannah,” he said fiercely.

      She looked at him. His eyes were hot and dark with desire.

      A shudder raced through her. She knew that what was going to happen between them would change her life forever, would make any other lover impossible.

      “Yes,” she said, raising her arms to him, “yes. yes...”

      The door swung open, hitting the wall like a clap of thunder rolling over the canyons of the city. “Oh, my God! Susannah!”

      Susannah almost fell off the table.

      She sat up. Matthew stepped back. Both of them stared at the open door, where Claire and Eddie and Judy and, Susannah thought desperately, what looked like a million other CHIC staffers stood crowded together in stunned silence. It was like staring into a sea of disbelief. Mouths hung open. Eyes grew round as saucers. Heads swiveled, as if this were a tennis match, while everyone looked from Susannah to Matthew, from Matthew to Susannah...

      Susannah’s stomach clenched as the enormity of what had happened—what had almost happened—began seeping in. She’d almost—she and Matthew Romano had almost—they had come very close to—

      And, as if that weren’t awful enough, everybody at CHIC knew it. And she would have to live with that forever.

      “Suze?”

      Susannah shut her eyes, then blinked them open. Claire was staring at her as if she were a stranger. Why wouldn’t she? She knew how she must look. Her disheveled clothes. Her hot face. Her kiss-swollen lips.

      “Claire,” she said. Her voice sounded rusty, and she cleared her throat and began again. “I know how this must look, but—”

      But? But what? But the man standing beside me, the one I swear to you I absolutely, positively, wholeheartedly abhor, hate and despise, kissed me, simply kissed me, and I went crazy?

      “Claire.” Susannah lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. “I know what