LITMIR.BIZ

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He glanced at the bathroom door. Open. He shot a look at his watch. Great. He’d had about three hours’ sleep. And where was Cat at eight on a Sunday morning?

      After a quick, hot shower, he dressed in his favorite denim cutoffs and a faded red tank top, then headed for the kitchen.

      Wherever she’d gone, Cat had unloaded the dishwasher and put everything neatly away before she’d left. He hadn’t heard a sound. He searched around for a note. She hadn’t left one. Vaguely miffed, he started coffee and decided on eggs Benedict for breakfast. He didn’t just save his culinary masterpieces for The Morning After. Although he usually cooked this particular dish for two. And served it in bed.

      * * *

      AS SOON AS she walked into the kitchen, Catherine knew she should have stayed out longer. There was a twenty-four-hour movie theater two blocks away. She could have spent the morning there, reading subtitles.

      “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said cheerfully, setting a bag of doughnuts and the Sunday paper on the counter to avoid looking at a lot of naked Luke. Tanned, taut, terrific body. Not a freckle in sight. He had the naturally long, lean physique of an athlete without having to do the maintenance. It wasn’t fair. But then, what in life was? A familiar tightness gripped her chest.

      She turned and reached up to find a mug in the overhead cabinet. “Fun party. I like your friends.”

      “The feeling was mutual.” Luke eyed her black biker shorts and white tank top without comment. There were no secrets between fabric and skin, and despite having been outside jogging in the park, Catherine suddenly felt self-conscious in her skimpy attire. Luke’s gaze traveled the length of her legs and back up again to her sweat-damp hair scraped back in a ponytail.

      “Been running?”

      “Yeah. Across the street in the park.”

      Even at 7:00 a.m. Marina Green had been crowded with bikers, runners, mothers with little kids, people on in-line skates. None of them had looked at her the way Luke was doing right now. None of them could make her shiver with a mere glance. She filled her mug with cool tap water, drank it down, then casually picked up the half-filled carafe of coffee and poured herself a cup.

      Golden sunlight bathed Luke as he sat at the table in the alcove. His skin looked like bronze satin, a cliché, but true. Muscles he’d acquired from hard physical labor, not weights, covered his bones in a fascinating display of hills and valleys. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man anywhere. And Catherine could pretty much see everywhere.

      That faded red tank top didn’t hide much. She tried not to stare at a flat brown nipple, showing because he’d twisted to watch her, and the wide armhole had shifted.

      She found the milk and sugar and doctored her coffee, then grabbed the white paper bag off the counter.

      “There’s a gym on the ninth floor,” he reminded her as she sat down opposite him at the table.

      “Ah, yes. Where you go to pick up babes. I prefer being outside in the fresh air. Want a doughnut?”

      Luke shook his head. She shivered as his hair brushed his neck. “I just had breakfast. I left yours in the oven.” He looked her up and down. “You’re in pretty good shape.”

      “Pretty good shape?” Catherine pushed aside the greasy bag and rose from the table to flex the biceps in her right arm. “I’m in my prime, pal, and don’t you forget it.”

      He snagged her wrist and held it up. “Look at this, your bones are as delicate as a bird’s. I could snap this wrist with no trouble at all.”

      Catherine disengaged her hand. “If you snapped my wrist you’d have trouble, all right. You’d be wearing the coffeepot around your neck.” Goose bumps shot up her arm.

      “See, that’s what I mean. You look fragile enough to break in a man’s hands, but you have an amazing resilience—” He broke off and gave her a look she couldn’t hope to interpret.

      “Mix fragility with all that firehouse red hair, and a man would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to want the whole package in his be—life. You’re a lethal combo, Cat. They’re going to kill themselves falling over their feet, and each other, to have you. And I’m here to make sure the right guy gets the prize. I’m going to keep you by my side, and protect you from the predators, until you make your choice.”

      It was fascinating to hear his assessment of her. He’d rarely commented on her appearance over the years. She knew his preferences from seeing the women he dated. Petite blondes or brunettes. Not gangly, freckly redheads. So it felt odd to have Luke’s entire attention focused on her. Especially at such close quarters.

      “I don’t need you to protect me, Luke. Although I appreciate the offer. The thought of half a dozen guys trying to coerce me into bed is incredibly appealing.” She grinned at him. “I’d like the chance to fight off a few of them myself.” She forced herself not to rub her wrist, where his touch seemed to have burned her skin like a brand.

      Luke gave her a quirky look. “Am I going to have to impose a curfew?”

      “You could try.” Catherine smiled sweetly. “Although I believe people are capable of having sex at any time of the day or night, aren’t they?”

      “They, maybe. You, no. You aren’t the type to fall into bed with a sweet-talking man.”

      “I’m not? Then why did you ask me who I was sleeping with after the party?”

      He scowled. “I had to ask. Didn’t mean I thought... Cat, you’ve waited twenty-six years to shed your virginity. I know you. You’d have to be madly in love with the guy. That takes time. Years.”

      “Years?”

      “Hell, yes. Years.” Luke drained his mug and set it carefully on the table. He gave her a serious, now-listen-to-me-kid look. “You want more than animal coupling. More than lust. You want love, respect, understanding. Someone who knows you, who’ll allow you to fulfill your potential as a woman.” He looked so serious she had to smile.

      “Can’t I go for a little animal coupling first?”

      “Catherine.”

      “Maybe you and Nick have the right idea. Maybe I should be like you guys for a while before I settle down.”

      “Like...us? You mean be a...player?” His voice rose. “A lifestyle that’s risky, shallow, empty? A nowhere existence, just living for the moment?”

      “Sure. Why not? It works for you. I’ll play the field, be a party girl. That’s a great idea, Luke.”

      He scowled at the implication that it had been his idea. “You’re a woman.”

      “There are women players. You date them.”

      “And you’re about as far from a player as—as Bambi is from Caligula.” The light went on. “Aha! You’re just trying to muddy the issue.”

      “I just thought while I look, I might enjoy living on the edge. Wild, uninhibited, unrepentant sex. Variety—”

      “Over my dead body.”

      “Sheesh, that’s a little drastic. I might as well wear a chastity belt.” Thank God he looked so appalled. She had no idea what she would’ve said next. She put up her hand. “Just kidding. Can we change the subject now, please?” Catherine rose from the table and yanked open the oven door. “You mentioned real food?”

      “You throw something like indiscriminate sex into the conversation and then want to eat?”

      “Sure. We changed the subject. Oh, yum. Eggs Benedict.”

      She took the plate from the oven, feeling his gaze on her backside. That bit of conversation had thrown them both. She repressed a smile as she uncovered the plate he’d saved for her.

      Catherine was amazed that the things Luke cooked turned out so well. He

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