“I can’t believe you were taking such a huge trip and you only left a message!” my mom complains, “You know I hardly check my messages. I’m sure you did it on purpose so you wouldn’t have to hear me complain about you missing Sunday lunch.”

I’m back at the Rosemont Royal after lunch with Landon, and while he’s gone back to the Gold Dust for another round of meetings or whatever, I have the rest of the afternoon to work on my article in the comfort of the suite. After a quick shower, I’d just settled at the desk in my room when my mother called. “It’s not a huge trip, Mom, and I’m sorry, but it was kind of sudden.” She’s right about the reason I only left a message, but I don’t tell her that.

My mom sighs. “At least it’s not a promotional article this time.”

“It’s not.” My mom has never hidden the fact that she doesn’t think much of the kind of articles I write. She’s made a career out of always been true to her art. While she thought I would have made a great editor at the Gilt Review, which she reads religiously, she doesn’t approve of the fact that I’ve spent two years ‘hacking’ out articles that are a little more than advertising copy.

“Okay.” She pauses. “Laurie says you’re there with a man, some hotel owner.”

“Laurie talks too much,” I reply. “I’m really going to kill her someday for telling you everything I tell her.”

My mom ignores me as usual. “She was trying to assure me you weren’t moping over Jack whatsisname. So, is there a man?”

“Not in the way Laurie made it sound, Mom. It’s really just work.”

“If you say so,” she replies, sounding unconvinced. “Your father says hi.”

“Hi Dad,” I say loudly.

“Oh, he can’t hear you. He’s on his rowing machine, working on those biceps.” I hear my father’s indistinct words, and then her breathy giggle. “Okay, bye dear,” she says. “Talk later.”

I put down the phone and start to work, expanding the outline for the article. I manage to shut everything else out of my mind and get a few hours of work done before my phone rings again.

At the sight of the caller’s name on the screen, I almost decide to ignore it, the same way I pushed his earlier calls out of my mind. What could Jack want from me? Why is he calling?

Picking up the phone, I swipe my finger across the screen as I raise it to my ear.

“Hello Jack.”

“Rachel.” He sounds relieved. “I’m so glad you answered.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry about your calls earlier. I was busy and I didn’t feel the phone vibrate.”

“That’s a relief. I assumed you didn’t want to talk to me.” There’s a short pause. “I learned you’re in San Francisco on an assignment. How’s that going?”

“Great.”

“Okay.” I hear him sigh. “Rachel, the thing is, I’m a little disappointed we didn’t get to talk like we planned.”

“You wanted to talk,” I point out. “I’m not very sure what we have to talk about.”

“I miss you,” he says simply. “Isn’t that enough to talk about?”

“You keep saying you miss me. What exactly do you want? For me to tag along so you can amuse yourself with me when your fiancée isn’t available?”

“About that,” he says, “I’m going to be in Argentina for about a month starting next week.” He pauses. “Claudia and I decided to take a break, see how things go.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “What? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

He is quiet. “I thought you would be glad.”

“I’m indifferent.”

I hear him take a breath. “Rachel, I’m not saying this because I no longer have a fiancée, but I know I’ve taken you for granted in the past. I’ve had time to think about all that, and I’m sorry.”

He’s never apologized to me before, and it takes me by surprise. My anger toward him dissipates, and I don’t know what to say.

He continues. “I shouldn’t have sprung the engagement thing on you like that. You’re my closest friend, and we have a history. So…I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know that…whatever it’s worth.”

Whatever it’s worth. I sigh. The thing with Jack is that he’s so good at straddling that line between a close friend and a romantic interest, I’m never entirely sure if I’m finally being pursued or if I’m still stuck in the friend zone. “I’m sorry about your engagement,” I say softly.

“I’ll get over it,” he replies carelessly.

“I’m sure.”

“I heard you were working with Landon Court,” he says after a moment.

“I’m writing about his new hotel.”

“Yes. I read somewhere about him buying it from right under Evan’s Sinclair’s feet. Hotel had been in the same family for generations. But then, Court has always been very ruthless in business. He’s also known for being heartless with women when he’s done with them. Being around him so much, don’t fall in love with him.”

I almost laugh. “Someone should have told me that when I met you.”

“That’s not fair.”

I sigh. “It’s nice that you called Jack.”

He laughs. “That sounds like a dismissal.”

“I’m working.”

“Okay, but just so you know. I’m not giving up on you. You’re still my favorite person in the world.”

It’s an old joke we share. He calls me his favorite person, and I do the same. This time, I keep silent.

I hear him sigh. “Bye Rachel.”

I put the phone back on the desk, deep in thought. It makes no sense for Jack to warn me about falling in love with Landon. With Landon, I know where I stand. A week, and then I’ll never have to see him again. There’s no chance of getting hurt. In a few days, I’ll be back home and he’ll just be a memory of great sex.

As if he knows I’m thinking about him, Landon’s name lights up on my screen. I reach for the phone, my body surging with excitement.

“What are you doing?” he asks without preamble.

That voice. It flows over me like velvet. “Working. You?”

“Thinking about you.”

His words cause a fluttering in my stomach. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?”

“I called a recess.”

“Lucky you.” I’m smiling as I get up and go over to sit on the side of my bed. “When will you be back?”

“In about two-three hours. Why? You missing me?”

“In a way.” I laugh. “I’d rather you were here making the most of the time we have. You did promise to make me come until I beg you to stop.”

I hear him groan. “Rachel, you’re going to drive me crazy.” His voice drops to a low murmur. “I wish I was there right now, my tongue in your pussy. You wouldn’t be laughing.”

My breath is suddenly shallow. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“I would suck you until you’re breathless and coming against my tongue.” I hear him breathe. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“You sound aroused,” he says softly. “Tell me where you are.”

“In my room. Sitting on my bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A camisole dress.”

“Is it short?”

“Yes. Thigh length.”

“Pull it up to your waist,” he orders, and I obey, lifting my hips as I pull the dress up with one hand. “What are you wearing underneath?”

“A white bra and thong.”

He groans. “Pull down the dress and the bra. I want your beautiful breasts spilling out. They’re beautiful—have I told you that? So full and firm, with nipples I want to keep licking. Touch your nipples, baby.”

I do as he says, moaning as pleasure shoots through me.

“Now I need you to pull that white thong to the side and touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

I do as he says, wondering at how easily I comply, how natural it feels even though I’ve never done this before. “I’m soaked,” I tell him. My voice is a thin, aroused whisper. I rub my fingers over my clit, feeling my body tighten, already so close to orgasm. “I’m so wet Landon.”

“Wet for me, Rachel. My cock is so hard, I want to put it in your mouth. Let you suck it.”

“Yes,” I moan, my fingers working my clit. I can almost feel him pumping into my mouth. “I want you in my mouth.”

“And also in your hot pussy, fucking you until you can’t take any more.”

“Oh God!” I moan as the image sends me over the edge. My legs stiffen, my body throbbing as pleasure rolls over me. I fall back on the bed, my body trembling uncontrollably.

I sigh as my heart slows, my body still feeling the little aftershocks of my climax.

“I have to get back to my meeting,” Landon says, as if he hasn’t just given me an intense orgasm through the phone. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight.”

I breathe slowly, my body still sluggish. “I’d like that.”

“Be ready at seven,” he says. “I’ll come pick you up.”

I only have a few hours, so I quickly finish up my additions to the article and email them to Mark for feedback.

My few clothes have all been neatly unpacked in the dressing room closet. I select a deep blue wrap dress I brought with me, silently thanking the stars for my mom, who taught me to always pack evening wear.

By the time I emerge from my room at seven, I’m fully dressed and made up with my hair styled in the low messy chignon that’s the only one I can manage without Laurie’s help. Landon is already waiting. He has changed out of the clothes he was wearing earlier and is now dressed in a dark blue evening jacket and another one of his crisp, tailored shirts. His hair is slicked back, shining like burnished gold. He looks unbelievably hot, and I just want to keep looking at him.

“You look amazing,” he says with a smile as he takes my hand, dropping a kiss on my right cheek.

If I look amazing, then there are no words to describe how he looks. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I reply, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the yummy smell of his body wash and shampoo.

He grins. “I aim to please.”

“And you never miss,” I quip.

His eyes hold mine. “Not if I can help it.”

God! I want him again, even now, when we’re on our way out. I wish he would change his mind about going out for dinner.

Taking a deep breath to calm my heated body, I follow him to the elevator. Outside, it’s very cool, and there’s a light fog over the city. Luckily, my dress came with a matching blue shawl. As we wait for the car, Landon takes it from me and wraps it around my shoulders, his fingers trailing along my arms and making me tremble.

On the ride to the restaurant, we’re both quiet. His mind seems far away as he looks straight ahead, and I find myself thinking again how good-looking he is. He has the kind of looks women dream about. Combined with his potent sexual magnetism, he’s the stuff fantasies are made of. Right now though, he looks almost unapproachable. This is not the first time I’ve seen him retreat behind that wall. Is he like this with the other women he’s dated? Very physical in one moment, then distant in the next?

Or is it just me?

It shouldn’t affect me. I shouldn’t mind if we have no relationship beyond sex—that’s exactly what I want.

When the car stops, he reaches over and strokes a hand over mine, making me look up to see him smiling at me. I feel a pull in my stomach, equal parts desire, longing, and another ache I can’t even identify.

He leans across the seat and drops a soft kiss on my lips. When he pulls back, I follow him, wanting another. He obliges me, stroking his tongue along my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. Hot need shoots through me and I moan.

He releases my lips with a sigh. “I can’t imagine why I thought I could make it through the evening without wanting to tear off your clothes,” he says, his voice low.

I turn a cautious glance at the driver, who’s looking straight ahead, a pair of earphones stuck in his ears. Sliding a hand up Landon’s thigh, I stop when I touch the erection already straining through his pants. Slowly, I run my hand along the hard ridge. “I’m not very hungry,” I say hopefully.

He catches hold of my hand, taking a deep breath. “I wish we could go back, but there’s someone expecting us.”

With that, he opens the door, almost immediately appearing at my side to help me out of the car. I’m wondering who could be expecting us while simultaneously trying to compose myself and get in control of the arousal raging through me.

The restaurant is on the ground floor of a building on a hill close to the waterfront. Even from the street, views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the sparkling lights reflecting off the water are simply breathtaking. We enter the restaurant, first going into a quiet reception area, from where a fussy maître d’ ushers us upstairs to a dining area overlooking the main restaurant, with less obstructed views.

No sooner has the maître d’ shown us to a secluded table than a door at the rear opens and a stocky man with bright red hair and a broad smile bursts into the room. He approaches our table and Landon gets up, an easy smile on his face as he clasps hands with the man before they exchange a bro-hug. The man faces me and grins. “You must be an angel,” he says, taking my hand with an earnest look in his deep green eyes.

Landon does a small head shake. “Rachel, this is Cameron McDaniel. Cameron, Rachel Foster.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I say.

“Delighted.” Cameron raises my hand to his lips, ignoring Landon’s narrowed eyes.

“Cameron is an old friend,” Landon tells me, “and he only recently opened this restaurant, so he’s dying to hear you say it’s awesome.

“Definitely awesome,” I say with a smile at Cameron, whose grin widens.

“Definitely. I like you already.” He pulls out a seat and joins us. “What are you doing with this handsome devil anyway,” he says jovially. “We reds should stick together. I know all the dirt on him, known him for years. I could tell you things that’ll make him squirm.”

I steal a glance at Landon, who’s chuckling silently. He looks almost jovial, so different from the controlled man he usually is in public, and the intensely sexual person he is when he’s with me. He sees me looking at him and holds my gaze, and in his eyes I can see the sensual promise that always goes right through to the deepest parts of me.

I turn back to Cameron. “I look forward to hearing the worst.”

Cameron responds by clapping his hands excitedly before summoning a hovering waiter who takes our wine order. “For my friend, who I haven’t seen in ages, and his lovely girlfriend, I have prepared something special,” he informs me. “You don’t mind seafood, do you?”

Shaking my head, I wonder if I should correct him about the girlfriend part. Landon, who’s watching me, makes no move to say anything, so I leave it.

“Perfect.” Cameron grins again. “Now, while we wait, let’s gossip.”

I haven’t enjoyed a meal so much in a long time, laughing so hard at Cameron’s quips that more than once, I almost choke on my wine. He’s irrepressible, around the same age as Landon, but with a wicked wit and sharply funny commentary that flows very naturally. He tells me how he met Landon when he spent a few years working at the New York Swanson Court in his early twenties before leaving to open his own restaurant. He took courses in management and learned how to expand along the way. Now he owns a chain of restaurants in Northern California.

By the time we leave, I’m not only stuffed, I’m actually sorry to be leaving Cameron. He follows us outside to the sidewalk and gives me a warm hug. “Take good care of her,” he warns Landon, making a big show of relinquishing me to him.

“I believe I’m already doing that,” is Landon’s only reply, his carnal gaze on my body telling me all the ways in which he’s going to take care of me.

A flash from across the street makes me raise my head in alarm, and a few more flashes follow. Landon mutters something under his breath and pulls me closer to him.

“They always come here hoping to catch the movie stars leaving,” Cameron says, turning dismissively from the paparazzo. He eyes Landon. “You can blame yourself for looking too much like a movie star.

“I agree,” I say, giggling as Landon’s hand around my waist sends warm heat coursing through my body. I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine, I decide silently, saying goodnight to Cameron.

Landon helps me into the waiting car, joining me in the back just before the car starts to move. Alone again, the impossible sexual energy that always radiates from him finds me, drawing everything inside me to him. I’m tense again, eager for him to touch me, wanting to touch him so desperately it hurts.

I sneak a look at him at the same moment he turns to me. In the next second, he pulls me to his body, crushing my breasts against his chest as he claims my lips.

He tastes perfect, like the wine we shared, and like warm sexual heat. A low moan comes out from deep within me as my hands roam over his body, trying to touch him through his clothes and wishing I could tear them off.

When he releases me, I’m panting softly, my nipples straining against the fabric of my bra. His chest is rising and falling sharply, his increased body heat enveloping me even through the barrier of our clothing.

“I’ve been thinking about this all evening,” he whispers, his palm tracing a path along my thigh. “No, since we spoke on the phone earlier. I need to fuck you.”

“Me too,” I admit, my thighs parting of their own accord, needing his touch, even though I know we’re in a car, that we have to wait, at least until we get to the hotel.

His fingers tighten on my thigh. “You’re going to give yourself to me, every part of you.” He traces his lips along the side of my throat. “I want you so much, Rachel, and I’m going to make you mine.”

The possessiveness in his words stokes the flames of my desire, making it almost impossible to wait. By the time we get to our hotel, I’m practically burning with need, senseless to everything but the driving desire to have him deep inside me.

Inside the elevator, he looks as if he’s barely restraining himself. He stares at the numbers on the panel, his hand tight around my waist. Standing close to him, I can feel how tense he is. It feels like if we so much as look at each other, we’re going to end up having sex inside the elevator.

As soon as the doors slide open in the suite, he pulls me inside, pinning me to the walls of the foyer and clai