The One Who Got Away. Jo Leigh

has told me so much about you.”

      “Uh-oh. Remember, innocent until proven guilty.”

      She laughed, then took Steve’s arm. “Do you think we should call your sister? I don’t want to lose our reservation.”

      “Let’s give her another— Wait. There she is.”

      Ben turned to follow Steve’s gaze. He wasn’t in the least prepared for what he was about to see.

      TAYLOR SLOWED as she got her first look at Ben Bowman. Oh, shit. He’d changed, all right. He’d become the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

      Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and not falling on her fanny. She didn’t know what to look at first. No, not true, the cheekbones were first, they had to be, and holy mama, they were even more chiseled than she remembered. His eyes seemed darker, but she’d need to be closer to be sure. He still wore his hair long, just past his ears. It wasn’t neat or tidy in the least. It didn’t need to be. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. And she meant that in the best possible way.

      Her fingers twitched, itching to run through those dark locks, to see those familiar lips curl up in a wicked smile.

      Okay, so she was back to the original plan. Sleep with him or die trying. She could do it. She had to do it. Hell, there was a long couch just this side of the lobby that looked pretty comfortable.

      Finally, seconds before she was close enough to actually speak to Ben, her gaze shifted down. His body was every bit as wonderful as her memory had promised. Not the tallest guy on the block, but perfectly proportioned. He wore jeans, well-worn, cowboy boots beneath them. His shirt was white, no tie, his jacket hunter green. Altogether a delicious package.

      No way he wasn’t taken. Not possible.

      “Taylor, hello?”

      Startled, she looked at her brother. “Hi.”

      Steve laughed, shook his head. “I see you remember Ben.”

      Heat filled her cheeks as she forced herself to forget about Ben and concentrate on her brother and his wife-to-be. After a quick kiss and a poke to his shoulder, she said, “Well? Are you going to introduce me?”

      Steve stepped over to the woman in the white pant-suit and put his arm around her shoulders. “Taylor, this is Lisa. The woman who’s changed my whole life.”

      Taylor smiled and moved in for an awkward air kiss. To say she was surprised was an understatement. This was Lisa? This preppy sorority sister? Not possible. Taylor glanced at Ben, and from his practiced look, she could tell she wasn’t the only one who thought something was screwy here.

      But she wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t even talked to Lisa, so maybe inside those Alpha-Gamma-Delta clothes there lived the soul of a wild woman.

      “Everybody hungry?”

      Taylor turned to Steve. “Starving. Where are we eating?”

      “I thought we’d go over to the Venetian tonight. Eat at The Grand Luxe.”

      “Great.”

      He turned to Lisa, his gaze adoring. “I’ll go get a cab,” he said.

      “I’ll come with you. Give Taylor and Ben a chance to catch up.”

      They walked away, leaving her alone with him and awkwardness swallowed her whole. She smiled, turned toward the big glass doors with the guitar-shaped pulls.

      “It’s been a while,” Ben said, moving closer to her, ratcheting up the heat in the casino by a good ten degrees. “You look great.”

      “Thanks. So do you.”

      His low chuckle made her look. The moment their eyes met, she was lost—eighteen again, fumbling, frightened, drowning in lust.

      Ben watched as Taylor’s eyes dilated, the pale blue shrinking to a thin halo. Her lips parted, revealing the tops of her even, white teeth. Her cheeks turned from pastel pink to dark, and he thought of her breasts, remembering clearly the shape of her nipples, the color of her areoles matching exactly her blush.

      He let his gaze wander to her lips: plump, glistening, inviting, then down her remarkable neck, long and elegant, like Audrey Hepburn’s, only Taylor was blond, a real blonde, with long straight hair that flowed down her back, that rippled in the artificial lights of the lobby. Her figure had changed, all for the better. At eighteen, she’d been so slender he’d been afraid of hurting her. Now, her hips had become womanly, her breasts a perfect handful. But she still had the silky skin of a teenager.

      That weekend so long ago had rocked his world. Had made him realize what making love could be. Had taken him from fair-to-middling to a pretty damn skilled lover. He’d remembered it from time to time, always with a smile. But he’d never once thought there could be a repeat. Time and life had a way of softening the edges of memories. He had no desire to refocus, to see the inevitable chinks and flaws that ride along with reality.

      Oh, who was he kidding. He’d beg if he had to.

      2

      “WE’D BETTER get out there,” Taylor said. “They probably have the cab ready.”

      “Right.” Ben waited until she started walking toward the front entrance to move next to her, to place his hand at the small of her back. He felt her shiver as he touched her.

      She cleared her throat. “So you’re living in New York.”

      “Yep. Manhattan.”

      “I love that city. Where?”

      “What used to be called Hell’s Kitchen. Now it’s almost as trendy as Tribeca.”

      “You must hate that.”

      “I do. But there’s nothing to be done. I’ve got my office in the same building, two stories down. I don’t want to move.”

      “What’s it like being a private eye?”

      “It’s just like in the movies. Smoky bars, jazz playing in the background, fallen women, men with dark pasts and unregistered guns.”

      “Cute,” she said, as they got outside.

      The heat shocked him again, like when he’d come from the airport. Not that it wasn’t hot in Manhattan, but here it didn’t stick to your skin like wet towels.

      Taylor must have noticed his reaction. “It was in the low seventies when I left this morning,” she said. “Oh, there they are.”

      Steve was standing beside a Yellow Cab. “You’re in San Francisco, right?”

      She nodded. “Right near Lombardi. The apartment is too expensive, but I love riding my bike there.”

      “Ten speed?”

      “Honda Shadow.”

      He stopped short. A motorcycle? Interesting. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

      Before she slid into the cab, she smiled at him. “Oh, I plan to.”

      He watched her maneuver onto the back seat, which was quite a feat considering the tightness of her dress. She did well, very much the lady. But he had a feeling that was only for show. At least he hoped so.

      Steve got in beside her, and Ben got in front. The ride to the Venetian wasn’t long. It would have been shorter, but for the masses of tourists. Still, it was better than trying to get through Manhattan on a busy evening.

      He’d never been to the Venetian, and was impressed with the high arched ceilings and the frescos on the walls. Even the floor tiles were European and stately, somehow managing to appear subdued and classy. After a long walk past a lot of high-end shops, through the casino, they arrived at the café.

      Steve ushered