The Last Virgin. Dorie Graham

such a beauty now. And young. Oh, to be young again. To have your figure, your skin. I’d take good care if I were you, I would. Unfortunately, men notice the package first, you know.” In spite of her nagging, warmth laced Gabriella’s words.

      “You’re still a beauty, Mom. I know Dad thinks so. You’ll always be his Buttercup.”

      A short silence stretched across the line.

      “Mom?”

      Her mother cleared her throat. “Yes, dear. Our other line is beeping in. I’ll have your father call later. You enjoy the day. Close that shop of yours. Take some time off. I love you, Sabrina, my girl.” Her voice trembled with emotion.

      “I love you, too. Is everything all right?”

      “Fine.” She sniffled. Though her mother was all the way in West Palm Beach, Florida, Sabrina could almost see the tears in her eyes. “Gotta go. We’ll see you next week.”

      Sabrina hung up and stared at the phone. Her mother had been practically sobbing. Sabrina shook her head. It was just like Gabriella to get all choked up over Sabrina’s birthday.

      She rinsed her cup, then grabbed her purse. Well, it was a special day. A smile tilted her lips. And tonight…tonight would be a night to remember.

      ARE YOU REALLY READY? By late Friday afternoon, Sabrina had had plenty of time to mull over Bess’s words. She pinched some brown leaves from a fern hanging by her bathroom window. Earth tones accented the pedestal sink and spacious garden tub that had sold her on this apartment.

      She’d pamper herself, taking time to get ready. As she soaked in a lavender-scented bath, she closed her eyes. Her fantasy Noah came to her, his eyes glowing with desire.

      “Ah, Sabrina, you mustn’t keep me away so long.” He stripped off his shirt, then knelt beside her. The muscles of his torso rippled as he leaned toward her. “Mmmm…” While nuzzling the tender spot behind her ear, he ran his fingertips along her collarbone. “Your sweet scent drives me wild.”

      His palm slid down to cup her breast. Her heart sped in anticipation as he lowered his head. He ran the pointed tip of his tongue over her nipple, then covered it with his mouth and suckled her long and hard. She moaned as the sensation swept through her, igniting that intimate ache between her thighs.

      As he moved to lave her other breast, he swept his hand down into the scented water, over the trembling curve of her stomach. She raised her hips and parted her thighs as his strong fingers sifted through her thatch of curls, to the hidden folds of her femininity.

      Her blood pounded in her ears. Heat engulfed her. “Noah!”

      The pealing of the phone brought her upright with a start. Water sloshed over the tub’s edge. Grumbling, she stepped from the bath, then wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel.

      She grabbed the antique phone beside her bed on its third ring. “Hello?”

      “Sabrina?” Noah’s unmistakable baritone sent goose-flesh skittering up her arms.

      “Noah. Hello.” She stopped, frowning. He was supposed to pick her up in less than an hour. Why was he calling?

      “Hey. I wanted to let you know I’m running a little late.”

      “Oh.” Relief swept over her. He wasn’t canceling their date. “No problem.” Heat rose in her cheeks as she glanced at her towel-clad figure. She’d spent too much time in the tub. “Take as long as you need. I’m not quite ready myself.”

      After confirming the directions to her apartment, she hung up, then raced to get ready. A little over an hour later, she touched up the lipstick that was shades darker than her usual hue. An unprecedented boldness filled her as she stood before her full-length mirror.

      Cliff and Mona were out of town and no one else knew of this special day. Other than that call from her mother, and a subsequent one from her father, Sabrina’s birthday had gone unremarked. But rather than wallow in her earlier depression, she savored the coming night.

      No doubt, Noah thought of their evening together as a simple dinner date, but to her it was much more. Whether they parted tonight with a chaste kiss or progressed to greater intimacy, one thing was certain. She’d enjoy a birthday gift of her own—the gift of pretend.

      Tonight she’d dine with her dream lover.

      The doorbell chimed. Sabrina’s heart skipped a beat. She spritzed on perfume, a unique floral blend, then sauntered to the door. Noah stood on the other side, devastating in pleated slacks, a collarless shirt and sports coat. She dragged her gaze up his length, marveling that he’d actually come for her.

      “Hello,” she said. Her fingers itched to trace the firm contour of his jaw, to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. Her gaze stopped to admire his mouth, with that little indent in the middle of his full bottom lip. Would his kisses be as thrilling as she’d imagined?

      “You’re wearing that?”

      Her gaze flew to his. His eyes shone, dark and piercing as before, but without a trace of the approval she’d expected. He almost looked angry.

      She gestured for him to enter. “You don’t like my dress?”

      He stood unmoving for a moment, his jaw squared, his gaze fastened to her chest. Self-conscious, she glanced down at the cleavage she’d been so happy to discover. Was he disappointed?

      “You’ll freeze. It’s going to be cool tonight.” He moved past her into her apartment, bringing in his woodsy scent. “The restaurant is likely to be cold, too. You’d better cover up.”

      She stared at his back. This was Noah, the lady-killer? He was supposed to drool over her and her new bustline. “Don’t be silly. It’s almost eighty degrees outside. I’ll be fine.”

      With his hands crammed into his pockets, he turned toward her. “You’re ready, then? We have reservations.”

      “Let me just get my purse.” Frowning, she turned from him. The man could use a refresher course in finesse. She raised her chin, resolved to have a good time, in spite of him. Certainly, his smooth manners didn’t keep the women coming back for more.

      She smiled. Could it be, he made up for it in bed?

      THE MURMUR of conversations surrounded them as waiters moved efficiently between white-topped tables. Noah gripped his glass of scotch and stared at the painted brick wall that noted the restaurant’s noble conversion from a pre-Civil War warehouse. A wall sconce flickered above them, casting odd shadows across the rough surface.

      Frustration swelled in him. He glanced around the room. Was it his imagination, or was every man staring at Sabrina? Stephen, their waiter, approached and Noah could have sworn the guy checked out Sabrina’s breasts. Why hadn’t she covered up, like he’d suggested? Not a single man in the restaurant had missed her entrance.

      She shone tonight, turning heads wherever they went.

      Stephen leaned toward her. “I suggest the blush, a fine wine for a fine lady.”

      Noah gripped a butter knife. Was the man flirting with her?

      Her musical laughter filled the air. Her fingertips grazed the waiter’s arm. “Well, I trust your judgment. The blush it will be.”

      Stephen left and she cast a sideways glance at Noah. His gut tightened. Why was it her every gesture exacted a response in him? He hadn’t forgotten their first brief meeting. All week, she’d filled his thoughts. And his fantasies.

      Sabrina scooted her chair forward and her breasts moved in sync. He suppressed a moan. She had no right sounding and looking the way she did.

      She’s a virgin.

      He’d repeated those words to himself when she’d greeted him in that dress and his throat had gone dry. He’d silently said them again when he’d helped her into his car and her fresh flowery scent made him dizzy with