LITMIR.BIZ

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slacks, sleeveless white blouse and black sandals with a wedge heel made her look more approachable than she had the night before. The blue dress reminded him of an ice queen—look but don’t touch. And he hadn’t touched her except to cradle her elbow.

      Even her hairstyle was different. Instead of the bun, which he’d found much too severe for her age and delicate features, a narrow headband pulled her glossy curls off her face. When they were in school together she’d always worn a short hairstyle.

      Rhett felt the flesh between his thighs come to life when the image of her hair spread across his pillow popped into his head. Just as quickly, it went away, leaving him breathing heavier and with an ache in his groin. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Fortunately for him, Denise was in front of him or she wouldn’t have been able to miss his hard-on straining against his fly. As surreptitiously as he could, he buttoned his jacket, concealing the bulge.

      “How much work did you have to do to this place before you were able to open?” He had to talk. Say anything to keep his mind off Denise’s slim, yet curvy body. They walked past closed doors to offices for the center’s social worker, dietician and business manager. Nameplates identified each person and their position.

      Denise slowed when she came to an open area with eight round tables, each with seating for six. As in the reception area, she’d decided against chairs, opting instead for benches. Several skylights, potted plants, ferns and ficus trees provided a parklike atmosphere.

      “Not too much,” she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door to her office. Her name and position were etched on the nameplate affixed to the door. “The contractor had to patch up a few holes before he could paint. The previous owner had replaced the roof three years ago, so that saved me at least thirty grand.”

      Stepping aside, Denise let Rhett precede her into the room that at one time had been her second home. She’d come in at dawn to let the workmen in and occasionally slept on an inflatable bed she’d put away in a closet. The center was equipped with three full bathrooms, each with a shower and two half-baths in the nursery and classrooms for children, ranging in age from two to five.

      “Please sit down, Rhett.” Denise gestured toward a love seat in a soft neutral shade. She sat in a matching one facing him. She crossed one leg over the other, bringing his gaze to linger on the rose-pink polish on her toes. “Would you like something to eat or drink? We’ve just finished giving the children their lunch, so the kitchen is still open.”

      “No, thank you. I just ate.”

      He glanced around Denise’s office. It reflected her personality with plants lining a window ledge. Her desk was an old oak top from another generation, a Tiffany-style desk lamp, a fireplace mantel filled with different size candles. Three of the four walls in her office were brick, the remaining one covered with framed prints of children from around the world.

      Denise stared at Rhett through lowered lashes. To say he looked delicious was an understatement. Today he wore a dark blue suit with a maroon-colored silk tie and white shirt. He looked nothing like the college student who’d favored jeans, pullover sweaters or sweatshirts. At that time, Rhett owned just one suit, which he only wore on special occasions.

      “How old is that desk?”

      Rhett’s question caught Denise off guard. She didn’t know why he’d come to the center, but she was willing to bet it had nothing to do with the furnishings. “It’s quite old.”

      He smiled. “How old is quite old?”

      “I’m not selling it, Rhett.”

      His eyebrows lifted. “Why don’t you wait for me to make an offer.”

      “Offer all you want, I’m not selling.”

      Rhett angled his head, staring at the antique desk. “Have you had it appraised?”

      She nodded. “Appraised and insured. It belonged to my grandfather who got it from a client who’d lost all of his assets in the crash of ‘29. The desk and several other pieces of furniture were payment for a criminal case my grandfather had taken on and won for him. My father inherited it from his father. He gave up his practice once he was appointed to the bench, and I quickly put in my bid for the desk.”

      “Who else wanted it?” Rhett asked.

      “Every lawyer in the family pulled out their check-books, claiming it should go to someone practicing law, not a schoolteacher.”

      “Ouch,” Rhett drawled, smiling. “That’s definitely a shot across the bow.”

      Denise sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right. I was quick to tell them the desk belonged to my father, and as his baby girl I was entitled to it.”

      “No, you didn’t pull the baby-girl card.”

      “Whatever works, Rhett.”

      He sobered. “Speaking of whatever works, I’d like you to give me a tour of the facility.”

      “Why?” she countered. “Are you thinking of becoming an investor?”

      Denise regretted the question as soon as it rolled off her tongue. It was enough that Rhett owned the building and the land on which New Visions Childcare sat, but she didn’t need him to own a percentage of her business.

      “Do you need an investor, Denise?”

      “No,” she said much too quickly. “My revenues are enough to support the day care operation.”

      “Do you have money put aside?”

      “Yes.” And she did. The monies she would get from the sale of her co-op would become her emergency fund. Denise had promised herself that she wouldn’t use her personal funds unless it was a dire emergency. So far, she’d been able to keep that promise.

      “Good for you.” Rhett stood up, extended his hand and pulled Denise gently to her feet. “My initial reason for coming was to talk to you about this weekend.”

      “You could’ve called me, Rhett. After all, I did give you my number.”

      “I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop by.”

      He hadn’t lied to Denise. He’d come to this section of D.C. to tour the neighborhood and see what was needed to upgrade the quality of life for the people who lived there. His company owned four square blocks designated for commercial use; the urban planner on his staff had suggested he drive around the neighborhood to survey the area before he made his decision about redevelopment.

      “What are you doing, Rhett? Taking stock of your assets?”

      Rhett knew Denise was spoiling for a confrontation because he’d coerced her into being his escort for the summer. She could’ve called his bluff and said no, but she hadn’t. Despite their very intimate past, she still hadn’t known him that well. If she had, then she would’ve believed him rather than Trey when he’d told her that he hadn’t been sleeping with other women. And if she had truly believed him when he confessed to loving her, she wouldn’t have ended up in bed with Trey.

      He hadn’t purchased the real estate to jack up the rents, as he’d threatened to do with New Visions, but to improve the property and the quality of life for the residents.

      Rhett wasn’t that far removed from the neighborhood in which he’d grown up not to recognize the importance of adequate child care. It provided a safe haven for the children of working parents and those who were trying to pursue their education and thereby better themselves and their families. However, Denise had fallen into a carefully planned trap.

      He took a step, bringing him close enough for her chest to touch his. “Which assets do you speak of?”

      Denise hadn’t realized the double entendre until it was too late. Her lips parted at the same time Rhett angled his head, brushing his mouth over hers. His hands came up and he took her face, holding it gently as if he feared she would shatter if he let her go.

      Slowly,

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