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sex?” Edie said, wanting to be clear.

      His jaw tightened and he looked faintly discomfitted by her plain-speaking, but nodded. “Exactly.”

      So much for fairy tales, Edie thought.

      But really, she wasn’t expecting a fairy tale, either. She knew better. So why not be frank? Why not set out parameters?

      If Kyle Robbins had done so years ago, she wouldn’t have been expecting a proposal of marriage when he’d simply wanted to go to bed with her. She wouldn’t have had her hopes raised merely to see them dashed.

      “I don’t do relationships,” Nick continued to spell it out. “One night. That’s it.”

      “Those are the rules?” Edie said, smiling.

      Nick nodded. “Those are the rules.”

      Their gazes met again, clear and unblinking. No starry-eyed foolishness here, Edie thought. No romance. No hearts and flowers. No expectations.

      “Okay,” she said at last, drawing the word out even as she came to terms with the implications.

      Nick’s brow rose a fraction higher. “You’re all right with that?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe her. “You’re sure?”

      “Well, I’m not expecting a proposal of marriage,” Edie said sharply.

      Nick raked a hand through his hair. “Good,” he said with obvious relief. “Because I’m not making one.” He shuddered and shook his head. “Never again.”

      “One day you might—” Edie began.

      But he cut her off. “No,” he said, absolutely adamant. “I won’t.”

      Edie didn’t think she ought to say she felt sorry for him, but the truth was, she did. She had loved Ben with all her heart and soul. But she would never say she wouldn’t fall in love again, wouldn’t marry again. She’d told Mona she wasn’t interested because she hadn’t been—then.

      It didn’t mean she wouldn’t ever be.

      Good grief, look how suddenly things could change. Two hours ago her hormones had been missing in action. She hadn’t been remotely interested in a man. And now—now she was contemplating going to bed with a man she barely knew. Why? Because she was attracted to him, certainly. But mostly because she didn’t trust herself not to do something even more foolish with a recently divorced, clearly interested Kyle Robbins. One night with Nick was far preferable.

      “So if you’re not interested, I’d completely understand,” Nick was saying.

      “I’m interested,” Edie said. “One night. No relationship. Got it. That’s what I want, too.”

      Nick stared at her long and hard.

      Edie stared back, unblinking. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. The words echoed around her brain. Still he didn’t move.

      “I know what I’m doing,” she assured him, with the slightest hint of irritation. “Do you?”

      Apparently he did. Abruptly Nick closed the space between them and wrapped her in his arms.

      Like when they’d danced, Edie thought for a split second.

      But then as his hard, strong, warm body enveloped her in his embrace, she thought, No, not like dancing at all. A hundred, thousand, million times better.

      Her whole body responded. Her knees wobbled. Her eyes opened, then shut. Her lips parted and suddenly his mouth was on hers. Fierce, hungry, demanding.

      I want you, Nick had said. His voice had been hungry, ragged.

      But his subsequent words had seemed like some sort of impersonal negotiation of terms. There was nothing impersonal or negotiated about this. This was instinct, pure and simple. He was a man who wanted a woman—a man who wanted her.

      And Edie wanted him, too. Yes, she thought, kissing him back. Oh, yes!

      Yes, it was just one night. No, it wasn’t going anywhere. She had no expectations. But where had expectations ever got her?

      He wasn’t Ben. But Ben was gone forever. He wasn’t Kyle. And thank God for that.

      He was Nick. And tonight—just tonight—he was hers. She was determined not to regret it.

       Chapter Three

      SHE wasn’t his usual sort of woman.

      Nick didn’t care.

      He wanted her. And the desire that had been building all evening was the only thing that mattered to him now. She was tart and sweet, eager and tentative, cool and yet capable of burning him down to the ground.

      She looked too closely, saw too much. And she wasn’t afraid to talk about what she saw.

      But they weren’t talking now, were they?

      No. They were kissing. God, yes, they were kissing! And her lips were as hungry as his. Her hands were as eager as his. They slid up his arms and around the back of his neck to hold his face to hers. He didn’t complain. It was what he wanted, too.

      Restless and eager, his hands roved over her back, tangled in her hair, loosening whatever pins she had anchored it with so that it fell in loose, heavy dark waves over her shoulders and down her back. He ran his fingers through it, buried his face in it, drew in the citrusy scent of shampoo and something exclusively Edie Daley.

      It was heady, dizzying, and it didn’t matter if she wasn’t the sort of woman he ordinarily took to bed, a woman he could scratch a physical itch with and walk away from. He could do the same with her. He would do the same.

      But first he would spend the night with her.

      And yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

      “I missed a spot on the tour,” he murmured against her lips.

      Edie pulled back slightly, stared at him, disbelieving.

      “My bedroom.”

      She smiled. Then she placed her hands on his arm and looked up into his eyes. “What a very good idea,” she said. And there was a breathless quality in her voice that cranked his desire up another notch.

      “Right this way.” And he scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the hall to the room he’d been using as a bedroom, pausing only to kick the door open. Then he bumped it firmly shut again with one hip and then, in the darkness, lowered her onto his bed. He dropped down beside her, intending to pick up where they’d left off.

      “Turn on the light,” Edie said.

      He pulled back and looked at her. “What?”

      “If I’m getting a tour, I want to see everything.”

      Which wasn’t a bad idea at all. He very much wanted to see her as he made love to her. He grinned.

      “Or maybe there aren’t lights,” she reflected. “Do you use candles for an authentic ambiance?”

      “It’s possible to use candles,” Nick said. But he reached over and flipped on a bedside lamp. “When they give tours at night, I imagine they do. But tonight I think a lamp will do.”

      It was a subdued light, but even so it threw the room with its utilitarian furnishings and spartan double bed into a pattern of light and shadow. Hardly the sight of a romantic seduction.

      But Nick wasn’t focusing on the room. He had eyes only for Edie Daley. He’d seduce her anywhere. She was half-reclining on his bed, the mauve dress dark against her creamy skin. The low light made Edie’s peekaboo freckles entirely disappear and turned her skin to a soft gold while it made her

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