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  Heart racing, Katy shook off Tony’s hand. “I’ll…get going.”

  “Stay,” her mystery man whispered.

  Her body froze in place before her mind had even processed it was not a request.

  Mark put his hands on Katy’s shoulders. Electricity jolted his body at the simple touch.

  What would Tony do now? He didn’t like a challenge, and he clearly hadn’t expected Mark to get in his way. And why should he? Except for the occasional one-night fling, Mark didn’t get involved with women. No relationships. No entanglements. No dating. It had worked for him for ten years. Ever since Claire. Ever since he had discovered the one disadvantage of his upbringing he could not overcome. The one need he could not fill.

  But ten years of resolve had crumbled in a heartbeat when the feisty brunette from the alley had so fiercely challenged one of the most formidable litigators in the city. Not even Tony’s imposing bulk or the whip in his hand had deterred her.

  Although she didn’t move, her shudder betrayed her anxiety. An intriguing mix of self-assurance and vulnerability.

  Sexy as hell.

  Impossible to resist.

  His gaze locked on Tony, his message clear.

  Tony snorted a laugh. “She’s all yours. Make sure she stays out of trouble.”

  Mark watched his friend weave his way through the crowd. He knew Tony would bring up the incident at the office on Monday and the ribbing would go on for days. But with their law firm’s financial stability now totally dependent on Mark’s relationship with their biggest client, Tony needed to keep him happy. And right now, happiness shivered beneath his hands.

  Katy glanced back again over her shoulder, her eyes wide and wary. Beautiful eyes, sky blue, fringed in thick, dark lashes.

  “Your hands are on my shoulders.”

  Mark caught the undercurrent of tension in her voice, but chose not to take the hint. “So they are.”

  “Are you planning to take them off any time soon?”

  Encouraged by the glimmer of amusement in her eyes, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I like where they are.”

  “Do you like having a briefcase slammed between your legs? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t move them.”

  He turned her toward him and studied the perfect oval of her face, taking in her high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear before allowing his gaze to drift down to the sumptuous breasts he had admired from his vantage point at the bar. He imagined capturing their warm, heavy weight in his palms as he kneaded and stroked the sweetly curved swells.

  She drew in a long, ragged breath. “Um. Hello. I’m up here.”

  Mark loosened his grip on her shoulders and tore his eyes away, embarrassed only at his uncharacteristic lack of control.

  An azure storm chased through her eyes as she tried to hold his gaze. Long, dark lashes dusted her cheeks when she failed. “I…I’d better get going.” Her words came out in a throaty whisper and his body stiffened in response.

  “I believe I deserve a reward. It wasn’t easy to take my hands away.” He ran his thumb gently over her bottom lip, feeling the faintest quiver. Soft lips. Sensuously elegant. Lips that were made to be kissed.

  As if she could read his mind, a faint, soft whimper escaped her throat.

  God, what a beautiful sound. Desire ripped through his body, shocking him after so many years of passionless nights.

  “Is that a yes?” He shouldn’t have started this. He should never have touched her. Now, he burned with the need to get her alone.

  Katy sucked in a breath and stepped back. “It’s a no. You don’t get a reward for doing the right thing.”

  Excitement drummed through him. He enjoyed verbal sparring in court, but here in the club, with this sensual creature, it had an erotic edge that fired his blood.

  “What do I have to do to get a reward?” The husky rasp of his voice betrayed his desire.

  Her lips curved upward before she quickly looked down and away, the sweep of her long lashes hiding the true emotion in her eyes.

  Teasing? Maybe. Tantalizing? Definitely. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

  “You could buy me a drink,” she murmured. “Isn’t that the way things normally work?”

  “Come.” He held out his hand.

  She raised an eyebrow and put her warm palm in his. “Just one drink, then I have to go.”

  Mark led her over to the bar and took his place behind the counter. He enjoyed working the bar when the club was short-staffed. It gave him a much-needed break from his all-consuming legal practice and a chance to meet people who weren’t in law. The irony of his attraction to one of the few lawyers in the bar did not escape him.

  He fought the urge to pour himself a shot of whiskey while she settled herself at the counter. Nothing short of total inebriation would quench the fire raging inside him tonight. Never in his life had a woman affected him this way and he burned to understand why.

  “What can I get for you?”

  “Trixie and I were drinking white wine. I guess I should stick with that.” Her gaze flickered over the vast display on the wall behind him.

  “Anything in particular?” He picked up a glass from the rack and polished it to a crystal shine.

  Sinfully plump lips curved into a smile. “I don’t suppose you have any Meursault?”

  He knew exactly where he wanted those lips.

  The thin, delicate stem of the wine glass snapped in his hand.

  He frowned. The glass must have been flawed. He would have to check the rest of the shipment downstairs.

  Suddenly he knew how to get her alone without taking her away from the ostensible safety of the bar. “We may have a few bottles down in the wine cellar.”

  He opened a door beside the mirrored display. “Come and take a look.”

  Chapter Two

  “You have a wine cellar? In a fetish club?” Curiosity warred with Katy’s natural instinct to stay out of dark places and away from devastatingly handsome men who could stoke her arousal with one scorching look.

  Did she dare go down another rabbit hole? With him?

  As if sensing her trepidation, he slipped a wedge under the door. “I’ll leave the door open, although it’ll play havoc with the climate controls.”

  Katy’s mouth watered in anticipation. She rarely indulged her passion for wine. A cardiac surgeon, and almost always on call, Steven rarely drank and she didn’t like to drink alone. Since the divorce, work and the kids had taken precedence over nights out with the girls and she had learned her lesson about drinking at client functions as a law student.

  One quick look and she would come back upstairs.

  She followed him through the door and down a well-lit, stone stairway into the cellar of her dreams. No expense had been spared. Floor-to-ceiling redwood racking housed a vast collection of what she suspected were vintage bottles. Cooling units, flagstone floors and incandescent lighting modernized the room. She breathed in the rich, heady scent of wine and cedar. “This is amazing. Can I look around?”

  He nodded and settled himself in a high-backed, red leather chair. “Take your time.”

  Katy roamed the wine cellar, randomly pulling out bottles. Shivers ran through her body, but they were not solely from her delight at finding rare and exclusive labels. She could feel his eyes on her, following her every movement, watching her every breath, boring into her soul.

  “So what do you think of the club?” His deep rumble filled the silence.

  “It’s very intimidating.” But not as intimidating as you.

  He chuckled. “You’ve only seen the public space. The private playrooms are in the back.”

  Katy shivered, suddenly regretting her decision to leave the safety of the crowd. “I’m not really interested in that side of things. I don’t usually come to places like this.”

  She paused and gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you come here often? I mean, other than wo
rking the bar?”

  Mark laughed. “Are you using a line on me?”

  Katy bit her lip and turned away to hide her heated cheeks. “No. Of course not. I was wondering if you were…”

  “You want to know if I’m in the scene.”

  His gentle tone gave her the courage to turn around. “Are you?”

  “It’s not something I need, but it can be enjoyable with the right person.”

  Katy breathed out a soft oh and then froze. Had he heard her? Could he tell her response was one of curiosity and not condemnation?

  “What about you?” He folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Did you come here with a secret agenda?”

  “No secret agenda. When Valerie told me she worked at the club, I was curious so I agreed to meet her here instead of at my office.”

  “Brave girl,” he murmured.

  Katy cocked an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. She hadn’t been called a girl since she turned eighteen. “That was slightly condescending.”

  His eyes crinkled and a smile played at the corners of his broad, sensuous mouth. “The correct response to a compliment is thank you.”

  She walked over to another part of the collection and pulled out a dusty bottle. “I hardly think that was—”

  “I’m waiting.”

  Surprised by his warning tone, she turned to face him.

  He sat back in his chair, long, muscular legs spread, corded forearms crossed, dark eyes calm and focused. But despite his casual manner, she sensed power and tension coiled in his lean body, like a cobra ready to spring.

  A thrill of fear raced through her, followed by a sharp spike of arousal. She tempered it quickly. No way would she be pushed around even if secretly his commanding tone turned her on. She replaced the bottle in the rack. “I think we’d better get back upstairs.”

  His voice softened. “Why are you running away?”

  She spun around to face him. “I’m not running away. I…I’ve seen the wine cellar so I thought—”

  “You’re afraid.”

  Katy folded her arms. “Not at all.”

  “Your body says otherwise.”

  She froze and then sucked in a breath. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Body language. You’re flushed, trembling. Your breathing rate has increased. Your eyes are wide. Your hands are clenched into fists. Your tongue…” He paused and his voice lowered to a husky growl. “Your tongue keeps darting out to lick your lips. If that isn’t fear, sugar, what could it be?”

  Arousal, fierce and unfamiliar, shot through her like an electric current, flaming her body, burning a path to her core. Sweat broke out on her heated skin. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

  Mark’s lips curled into a slow, sensual smile. “Come here, Katy-who-isn’t-afraid.” The sound of his voice, hard and low, sent a chill down her spine.

  No, not a chill. A heat wave. A fever. Maybe she was ill. Maybe that’s why her cheeks burned and sweat trickled between her breasts.

  But that didn’t explain the deep yearning that had risen up within her. Oh, she wanted to go to him, tear his clothes off, climb onto his lap, run her hands over his broad chest and then lower. It was as if she had been starving for years and he was a banquet waiting to be tasted.

  Maybe that was the truth of it.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she willed the sensation to go away. What the hell was going on? Was she seriously contemplating having sex with a stranger in the basement of a fetish club?

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why?”

  “Didn’t you want the Meursault?”

  Katy nodded and her pulse kicked up a notch.

  “Third row down, second bottle from the left.” He pointed above his head.

  Katy raised an eyebrow. “A gentleman would get it for me.”

  “I’m not feeling like a gentleman right now. Especially after your stirring performance upstairs and the way you’re looking at me now—like you want to devour me.” The heat in his eyes matched his voice, dark and sinful, like a rich Amarone. How long had it been since a man gazed at her with such desire? After Justin’s birth, Steven had never once looked at her with anything more than mild interest.

  Katy lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

  He cut her off. “Katy.”

  She looked up into amused brown eyes and then drank in the sight of his hard, muscular body sprawled across the chair; his long legs open and inviting.

  Craving, deep and delicious, flooded her veins.

  “Come here, sugar. I won’t bite.”

  “It’s not the biting I’m worried about.” Nor was it him. Her gut told her he wouldn’t hurt her. If he had wanted to try anything, he wouldn’t have waited this long. No, it was her. She had lost control of herself and she had no idea what this new, lust-driven Katy Sinclair was about to do.

  Still, his soft, cajoling voice drew her forward. Although she wanted the wine, she wanted him more. But after ten years on the bench, she didn’t remember how to play the game.

  Her heels clicked on the flagstone floor as she closed the distance between them, stopping only a foot away. Even seated, he intimidated her. But God was he sexy. Her pulse raced and her throat turned dry.

  He studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m beginning to wonder if we haven’t met before.”

  Katy shook her head. “We haven’t. I’m sure of it. You’re not someone I would ever forget.” Or ever will. She stepped closer, her body now only inches from his. She caught the scent of his spicy aftershave and something raw and purely masculine. A quiver of fear ran through her followed again by the fierce rush of arousal.

  “Good girl.”

  “I’m hardly a girl.”

  He reached out and put his hands on her hips, drawing her close, until she could feel the heat of his breath on her breasts through the thin cotton of her shirt. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

  “Most definitely not,” he murmured.

  Inexplicable desires wracked Katy’s body. She wanted to thread her fingers through his hair, straddle his body and press her breasts against his full, sensuous lips.

  Her briefcase dropped, unbidden, to the floor. She ran a tentative finger along the square line of his jaw, rough with stubble, but pulled away at his sharp intake of breath.

  “Put it back.” He lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek, trapping it with his own. His skin was warm, firm. So sexy. She felt the slip of arousal between her thighs and drew in a ragged breath.

  Get a grip, Katy. This isn’t you.

  She eased herself out of his grasp. “You’re going to have to move. I’m not reaching over you.”

  “Shame.” He stood with the grace of a man half his size and pulled the chair out of her way.

  Katy reached for the bottle. Too high. She looked over her shoulder. Mark’s gaze was fixed firmly on her…ass. She snorted a laugh. “When you’re done, maybe you could give me a hand.”

  Mark grinned and walked toward her, stopping so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body across every inch of her back. He put one arm around her waist and pulled her into his broad chest.

  “Where do you want it, sugar?” he whispered, his breath warm and moist in her ear.

  Red, hot flames of need licked through her body. “Want what?”

  “My hand.”

  She could think of several places she wanted his hand. Places Steven had rarely touched. Emboldened by his obvious interest, and her own simmering arousal, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and looked up at him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  His body shook with laughter. “What kind of girl?”

  “The kind of girl who tells a man where she wants his hand.”

  He stroked the curve of her waist and brushed his lips over her ear. “You don’t have to tell me, sugar. I know.”

  Ardor overwhelmed her and she scrambled to justify her actions. Sex
club. Too much alcohol. Sinfully hot guy. Romantic wine cellar. Ten years of cold, loveless marriage, loneliness and unfulfilled need.

  Good enough. She put her hand over his, sliding them both across her stomach. Mark grunted his approval and pulled her tight against his body. His soft lips blazed a trail of gentle kisses down her neck.

  “You are so beautiful,” he growled. “So fucking hot.”

  Katy hissed out a breath. She had steeled herself for a little flirting, not for the raw hunger of desire or the burning need for the touch of a stranger. Embarrassed and shocked by her body’s response, she made a half-hearted attempt to pull away.

  His arm tightened around her, pressing her so closely against his chest she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back. He traced his fingers along her shoulder, over her collarbone and down the V of her shirt to the swell of her breasts.

  Katy shuddered. His touch electrified her, sending shivers of sparks along every nerve in her body. How long had she dreamed of such an erotic, sensual caress? So different from Steven’s ham-fisted pawing in the dark.

  Ever so gently, he traced a finger along the lace edge of her bra, burning a slow trail over each soft crescent. A shiver of need chased down her spine and her betraying body arched toward his touch.

  Emboldened by her response, he slowly undid the first few buttons of her shirt and slid his hand beneath the cotton barrier to cup her breast in his heated palm. With firm, but gentle strokes of his thumb, he teased her nipple into a tight peak through the thin lace of her bra, stoking her arousal hot enough to make her whimper with need.

  “Shh, sugar. Tony won’t be too happy if I lose control in his prized wine cellar.”

  Her sex clenched at his words and delicious anticipation ratcheted through her body. Please. Lose. Control.

  The tips of his fingers drifted lower, exploring her, gliding over every curve and into every hollow of her body.

  Desire became a raging inferno, incinerating reality in a tidal wave of emotion. Within minutes this stranger had aroused a passion in her she didn’t even know she had.

  “Why did you really come to the club, sugar? Is there something here that called to you?” He inched up her skirt and skimmed his fingers along the inside of her thigh, closer and closer to the tender folds hidden by her very wet, red lace panties.