Second Time Lucky. Debbi Rawlins

if they reverted to their former relationship once they returned to New York, that would be perfect. All her focus and energy would be invested in the new company. She’d have no time for a relationship. All the more reason not to waste a minute now.

      Her key wasn’t where she’d thought she left it. Impatient, she dumped the contents of her purse onto the bed, then found the key card tucked safely in the side pocket, where she now recalled putting it. She checked her reflection in the mirror, applied some lip gloss, drew a brush through her hair and adjusted the bodice of her coral-colored dress. When she twisted around to inspect the back, her gaze snagged on the skin exposed by the triangular cutout. Where David’s warm palm had been, had lingered until she’d pulled away.

      Reliving the few seconds in her mind, she shivered. His hand hadn’t been as soft as she expected. She knew he was an avid tennis player in his spare time, and that his mother was fond of arranging dates to accompany him to company dinners. Mia knew nothing more about his personal life. Among the paralegals and clerical help, there was some gossip and the occasional rumor, but she made a point to stay clear of the whispers.

      Smoothing down her dress, satisfied that it wasn’t too wrinkled, she palmed the key card and opened the door. And stopped cold.

      David stood in the hall, staring at her. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He wore the same clothes he’d worn at dinner, only his sleeves were rolled back, exposing his muscled forearms. Definitely a tennis player.

      “I was about to knock,” he said. “If you’re on your way out—”

      No way she’d let him weasel out of this. She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he hadn’t finished.

      “I’ll keep it brief.” Without hesitation, he took a step toward her, his lips twitching into what could only be described as a predatory smile.

      “Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

      Then he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him, sending her scurrying backward with the inelegant grace of a beached whale.

      4

      “I HOPE YOU WEREN’T on your way to meet Jeff,” David said. “If you are, it’s a complete mistake.”

      Mia backed up another step, stopped, gave him a good long look, then laughed. “You came here to tell me that?”

      “I did.”

      “For an overpaid attorney, you’re not every observant.”

      He lifted his brows.

      She hid a smile. “I meant high-priced.”

      “I know you were embarrassed at dinner, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t give him another chance.” Again he advanced on her, and her pulse skittered. “The guy’s a drunken lout. He’s not good enough for you. Even if only for a week.”

      Heat crawled up her neck. He was right, of course, and she had no intention of doing more than exchanging a greeting with Jeff should she see him in the lobby. But David had no business butting in. “Since when are you an expert on my personal life?”

      “Touché.” He took her hand, slowly rubbed her palm with his thumb.

      She tensed, but in a good way. Jesus, this was David touching her, his face so close that she could see the light flecks of amber in his brown eyes. Funny, she’d always thought they were much darker, more serious.

      She straightened, tried to ignore the disturbing sensations his thumb caused. “In fact, Mr. Pearson, you really don’t know anything about me, do you?”

      His gaze touched her mouth, lingered and then leisurely moved up. “Don’t I?”

      “In the three years since we met, you haven’t said anything more personal than ‘Have a nice weekend.’ And that was on a Saturday afternoon, after we’d worked most of the day together.”

      “You exaggerate.”

      “Not by much.”

      “You think it was easy, keeping my distance?”

      “I honestly have no idea.” Her breath caught at the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You should’ve been a poker player, instead of a lawyer. You could’ve made a killing.”

      He wrapped his fingers around her hand and tugged her closer. “My intentions must be fairly obvious now,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.

      She tilted her head back, refusing to be the first to break eye contact as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He was hard behind the fly of his khakis, the knowledge shattering a bit of her control. His hand splayed across the exposed skin of her lower back, and his palm felt hotter than it had before.

      The tingling began there, traveled all the way up her spine and settled in her braless breasts, tightening her nipples, making them so sensitive that she could hardly stand to have them touch the light sateen material of her dress. Only a knot of fabric at her nape kept the halter in place. The gentlest pressure, the smallest tug…