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desperation that made her the aggressor.

      She took control of the kiss, following him back into his mouth, claiming him with quick thrusts of her tongue. At last he moved his hands to her back where he stroked the length of her spine. Her hips arched in an involuntary invitation, which brought her stomach in contact with something hard, thick and very masculine.

      Memories crashed in on her. She remembered how he’d touched her and tasted her everywhere. She recalled the sight of him naked, of how many times he’d claimed her. She’d been sore for nearly two days, but the soreness had only reminded her of the incredible pleasure they’d shared and had made her want to do it again. But she’d resisted—because of who he was and what he could do to her heart.

      She hated the logic filling her brain, the voice that asked what was different now. She wasn’t interested in danger or reality or anything but the way their bodies fit together. If she—

      But an insistent barking distracted her and at last she lifted her head only to find Charlie’s nose inches from her face.

      Below her, Jack groaned. “I’m going to have to have a talk with that dog.”

      She became aware of their intimate position and the very public location. Without saying anything, she slid off him, then scrambled to her feet.

      “We’re in the park,” she said more to herself than him. “In public.”

      Jack rose more slowly. He reached down for the Frisbee and tossed it, all without looking away from her.

      “I doubt anyone noticed,” he told her.

      “Still.” She pressed her hands to her heated face. Talk about acting out of character. She had always been a strictly-in-bed, lights-off kind of date. The only exception to that rule … was standing right next to her.

      Of course. She was fine as long as she resisted Jack’s particular brand of temptation, but if she gave in, even for a second, she completely lost her head.

      “I, ah …” She glanced around, then returned her attention to him. “I’m, um, going to let you get back to your morning.”

      His dark eyes glowed with passion. “You don’t have to.”

      “It’s for the best.”

      His mouth straightened. “Let me guess. This was a mistake.”

      His tone of resignation caught her more than his words. He expected her to pull back because that’s what she always did. There were several good reasons, but he didn’t know them. If she had her way, he never would.

      “Thanks for everything,” she said, trying to smile. “I’ll see you Monday.”

      She hesitated, then walked away when he didn’t speak. A slight feeling of hurt surprised her. What did she expect? That he would come after her? Not likely after all the times she’d turned him down.

      Jack watched her go. Once again Samantha was the queen of mixed signals. She had been from the beginning. Is that what made him want her? He never knew where he stood?

      “Not exactly the basis of a great relationship,” he murmured, throwing the Frisbee again.

      The good news was Samantha wanted him sexually. The truth had been there in her response. For some reason, she couldn’t handle the idea of it, but at least she didn’t find him repulsive.

      Was it him in particular or would she have run from anyone?

      But she still liked to run and a guy with a brain in his head would let her go. Funny how he’d always been smart, everywhere in his life but with her. What was it about her that made him want to keep trying? It wasn’t that he thought that they were soul mates. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. What was the point?

      He was in it for the sex. Not a one-night stand. That wasn’t fun anymore. He liked to take a lover for a few months, make sure they were both completely satisfied, then move on when one or both of them got restless.

      Somehow he doubted Samantha would be up for anything like that.

      Which left him where? Wanting a woman who didn’t want him? There was a way to start the weekend. Okay, he was back to his original plan—forgetting about her as anything other than an employee.

      Easier said than done, he thought as he remembered the feel of her body on his. But not impossible.

      Jack reached for his coffee and cursed whoever had invented speakerphones and teleconferences. Spending an hour explaining to stock analysts and trade journalists how he had found a second set of books was not his idea of a good time.

      “You’re sure the investigation into how this happened has already begun?” a disembodied voice asked.

      “Of course. It started less than twelve hours after I found the books. It would have started sooner, but I couldn’t get an independent accounting team in here until morning.”

      “You’re not using your regular accountants, are you?”

      “No. No one who has ever been associated with Hanson Media Group is involved. As soon as we have a preliminary report, I’ll make it public. Until then, I don’t have any answers.”

      “Do you think more people were involved than your father?”

      Jack hesitated. “I don’t have any specifics on that, but my personal opinion in that my father acted alone.”

      “Has his death been investigated? Are the company’s troubles the reason he died?”

      The not-so-subtle implication that George Hanson had killed himself infuriated Jack. He spoke through gritted teeth. “My father died of natural causes. There was an autopsy. He didn’t kill himself.” And he would sue any bastard who reported otherwise, Jack thought. He might not have been close to the old man, but he wouldn’t let any member of his family be dragged through the press that way.

      “Is the company going to make it?” someone asked.

      Jack stared at the phone. In truth, he didn’t have a clue. He continued to ride the bad-news train, with a new crisis every day. From where he sat, he couldn’t imagine how this could be pulled off. In his opinion, it would take a miracle or a buyout for Hanson Media Group to survive, but he wasn’t about to tell them that.

      “We’re going to come through this just fine,” he said, wondering if saying it would make it reality.

      Samantha had spent much of the weekend giving herself a stern talking-to. Being afraid was one thing, but acting like an idiot was another. She had to pick a side—any side. Either she was interested in Jack romantically or she wasn’t.

      She hated the mixed messages she sent every time they hung out together. She didn’t like that she had become that sort of woman. In truth, she found him sexy and funny and smart and pretty much everything any reasonable single female would want in a man. But he was also rich, powerful, determined and used to getting his way, which terrified her.

      There were actually two different problems. First, that however much she told herself she wasn’t interested, that she only wanted a platonic relationship with him, her body had other plans. No matter how much her head held back, the rest of her was eager to plunge in the deep end and just go for it. The attraction was powerful and ten years after she’d first felt it, it didn’t seem to be going away.

      The second problem was also a head-body issue. However much her head could intellectualize that Jack was nothing like Vance or her father, her heart didn’t believe. So she got close, he made a move, she reacted, then the fear kicked in and she bolted. It was a horrible pattern and short of never seeing him again in any capacity, she didn’t know how to break it.

      Whoever said acknowledging the problem was half the battle had obviously never lived in the real world. Understanding what was wrong didn’t seem to move her any closer to solving it.

      But

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