LITMIR.BIZ

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past them to claim the table.

      “It’s so predictable.” Marissa took a big breath when they emerged onto the street. “I hate being predictable.”

      The night air was cool and fresh, a rarity that was unique to a few brief weeks of spring in the city. After the long winter, the Village had burst into life, throbbing with the beating drums of meeting, teasing, making love, making mistakes. Or maybe it was just Jamie’s head screwing with him because that was all that he could think about, especially since Marissa had brought up the subject of sex.

      They headed toward the crosswalk onto Bleecker Street. “C’mon, tell me the story,” Jamie said. “I need to know whether or not I have to beat up Paul.” The statement was sure to get a laugh, given his resident pet geek status.

      Marissa didn’t laugh. She peered at him from the corners of her eyes for a full five seconds before her berry-ripe lips stretched into an amused smile. “Thanks, darling. I’ll just kick Paul in the family jewels if he ever approaches me again.”

      “Ow.”

      She took his hand, twining their arms and swinging them as they walked. The cool air had perked her up. “Paul and I had been falling apart even before the Caymans. The trip was a last-ditch effort to keep the romance going.” Her face went grim. “If it was ever a romance at all.”

      “I thought that Paul had swept you off your feet.” Hearing the details of their fancy dinners with champagne and roses had eaten Jamie up inside.

      “Yes, well, turns out that I’ve been deceiving myself about what we meant to each other. After the first flush of attraction, we had nothing in common except ambition.” She squeezed Jamie’s fingers. “That’s always my mistake. I go for the flashy dressings when what I need is a man of real substance.”

      What she needed was to figure out why she was drawn to the wrong men when she knew she’d end up unsatisfied. He’d recognized the pattern four disastrous relationships ago.

      “What did Paul do?”

      “I’m more unhappy with myself than him.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it was like I said. He promised me a fabulous spring vacation in the Caribbean. Then when we got there I found out he’d actually set up meetings with clients. The Cayman Islands have advantageous offshore investment and banking regulations. We have several clients who’ve incorporated their businesses there to avoid taxes.”

      “Isn’t that kind of shady?”

      “Not really,” she defended. “The law is the law. Howard, Coffman is a reputable firm.” A frown crossed her face. “I’ll admit I became curious about what Paul was up to. But when I asked to come along, he told me to get out of his business and into a bikini.”

      “Ah.” Jamie almost smiled. He’d known the arrogant Paul would shoot himself in the foot sooner or later.

      “Yeah. You know I hate getting that head-patting thing from guys. He tried to make it up to me when he came back, but I wasn’t having any. After that, it was all downhill. He ditched me in the hotel bar and took calls the one time we actually made it to the beach.”

      She stopped, shook her head, then resumed a faster pace as they turned onto their home street, a short, narrow lane lined with chestnut trees and brownstones that had gone dark and quiet. “Enough. Let’s just get home. I’m boring even myself with this rehashing.”

      “He hurt you. I can see it.” Jamie was agitated because he knew Marissa was leaving something out. It wasn’t like her to be evasive.

      She turned quiet, firming her soft mouth as she stared straight ahead. Their footsteps echoed. “He cheated, okay? He said he had one last late-night meeting, and I guess that much was true because I saw him through my—”

      She shot a shamefaced look at Jamie. “I didn’t mean to spy. I’d been snapping photos of the sunset from the hotel balcony. I happened to spot Paul through the lens, a short way down the road outside a beachfront bar. He was talking to a man with a briefcase, so I didn’t think too much of it until this island hoochie-coochie came up.”

      Marissa was absorbed in the story now. They’d slowed to a stop near the wide front steps of a stately brownstone with double oak doors, half a block from home. Jamie put the bag down and took her other hand.

      She gave him a chagrined grin. “You know the type. Semi-pro. Big bleached-blond hair, implants, pink lipstick, high heels. I thought she was with Paul’s client because he kissed her hello, but then she attached herself to Paul. And he was willing.”

      “You saw all of this through the camera?”

      “Yes. I even—” She cut off. “It’s so tawdry.” She inched closer to Jamie. “The melodrama revolts me. I don’t want that kind of life.”

      He knew why. She’d told him of the soap opera of life in Little Havana, where everyone had an opinion on each other’s business, and how she’d escaped by keeping herself aloof and focused.

      One of his hands went to her back, sliding up and down in a soothing caress while he struggled with the urge to take her into his arms, to hold her, love her, give her the closeness that she didn’t know she desired. The hell of it was that even if she opened up her heart, the need for intimacy might never include him.

      He cleared the knot in his throat. “Then what do you want?”

      “I should want an average guy. Someone who spends the night. If he sneaks out the next morning, it’s to bring me back the Sunday paper and coffee and muffins instead of going to the gym to perfect his physique.”

      Jamie wondered when she’d realize she’d described him, aside from the part about spending the night. Given her earlier question, maybe she already had. “You’ve thought this out.”

      Her head angled back, tilting her face toward his so that he was staring into her eyes. Beautiful olive eyes struck with shards of amber, gleaming like gems he could only admire from afar. Her lips parted.

      “This is crazy,” she said. “But ever since the airport, I’ve been wondering if maybe you…”

      Jamie’s head roared like a blast furnace. She didn’t mean—she couldn’t be saying—

      “You and me,” she blurted. “What if we, you know, tried it out to see? No drama. Just one kiss? In case we’re missing out on something that could be really fantastic.”

      He spoke very slowly. “You’re not thinking straight.”

      “Straight’s done me no good so far.”

      “What about tomorrow?”

      “Let’s not think about that.” Marissa reached up to brush her knuckles along his jaw. She rubbed, sliding her fingers to his chin, then his lips. Outlining them. “I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.” His lower lip rolled under her caress. “Haven’t you ever wondered…”

      He couldn’t deny that. “Hell, yeah,” he said, and suddenly he was kissing her the way he’d dreamed of a thousand times.

      Except that he’d made all the right moves in his fantasies. This was real. It was their noses bumping until they got the right angle, it was worrying if he had garlic breath, it was the sudden jolt of electric sensation when their tongues touched, making their teeth clash. She’d opened her mouth before he was prepared.

      But it was also Marissa, her body familiar in his arms. The scent of her, rich and arousing. The night air that had seemed so cool had become hot, vibrant with the promise of a glorious discovery.

      She moved against him, arching her body so that he felt her breasts, making an urging sound at the back of

      her throat—as if he needed to be encouraged. This time he was the one to deepen the kiss when he stroked his tongue inside her mouth.

      Marissa pulled back. She looked at him with rounded eyes. “What do you think?”

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