He drew in a deep breath and let it out. All the more reason to stick to his plan. He wasn't going to touch Chelsea again until whoever had destroyed her apartment was behind bars. How could he when he might be responsible for what had happened?

She might not believe that Carter was behind it, but he wouldn't rest easy on that score until he could have it checked out. What if it had been his brother?

A sudden noise from the bathroom had him whirling around and sprinting to the door. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it open and saw Chelsea standing there, clutching the skirt in front of her, her eyes bright with tears.

"Chels." A wave of helplessness washed over him and he was reaching for her when she giggled.

"What is so funny?" he demanded, dropping his hands and struggling to get his system to level.

"This." She waved the skirt like a flag in front of her. He heard two sharp pings, then watched her bend over as a fresh wave of giggles erupted. "Whatever magic Daryl worked with this skirt is totally neutralized. The clock has struck twelve and I'm reduced to rags."

He was trying to make some sense out of what she was saying when she tucked the skirt over the towel rack and his throat went dry as dust.

"I can't wear the skirt."

He tried to nod intelligently, but he was having trouble separating sounds into words.

"Just when I had plans for it."

"Right." His gaze and his mind were focused totally on her legs. The neat little blazer she wore only skimmed the very tops of her thighs. It no longer made him think of a school uniform.

"Do you have any suggestions about what I should do?"

Several tumbled into his mind, but one was foremost-he couldn't seem to push it away. It would be so easy to lift her to the edge of the vanity. Within seconds, he could slide her thighs apart and eliminate any barriers. Then with her legs wrapped around him, he would begin to move....

He heard a roaring in his ears, his own pulse. More than anything, he wanted to step forward and make the fantasy he'd conjured up in his mind a reality.

But if he did, he would shatter his resolution into a thousand pieces. Taking a quick step back from the doorway, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You'd better put that skirt back on. When you're decent, we'll talk."

DECENT! CHELSEA frowned at the door Zach had closed behind him. So that was his plan-she was to put her skirt back on so she'd be decent and then they'd talk.

She shot a glance at the skirt. If she put it back on, she'd be decent all right. The hem would hit her at midcalf-not exactly the look she was going for.

Still, if she was going to derail his plan and replace it with one of her own, she was going to need all the help she could get. A man-magnet skirt-even if it had been weakened by staples and tape-could not be ignored.

Reaching for the skirt, she pulled it on, hiking the waistband up to her chest. Then she carefully b.u.t.toned her blazer over it and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung from one wall.

The big minus was she looked like a cross between a bag lady and the poor little match girl.

Maybe the skirt wasn't as p.o.o.ped out as it looked. She turned sideways. And maybe it was.

Eyes narrowed, she faced her reflection. Either way, what did she have to lose? If Zach McDaniels intended to walk away from her, she might only have this one night. She wouldn't have anything at all if she stayed in the bathroom all night.

As she turned and walked toward the door, she felt the waistband of the skirt start to slip. Suddenly a plan began to take shape in her mind. Maybe she could find a way for the skirt to help her after all. Smiling, she reached for the k.n.o.b. With any luck at all, she probably wouldn't be wearing it for very long.

The office was dark except for the small pool of light falling on the conference table. It took her a moment to locate Zach at the window. His back was to her, one hand was fisted on his hip, the other holding his cell phone to his ear. Beyond him, a full moon shone brightly above the sweep of the New York skyline.

"What do you mean you can't locate this..." Zach paused long enough to glance at the card he held in his hand "... Sam Romano?"

He wasn't even looking at her, much less thinking about her. Chelsea made herself walk forward. The skirt dropped another inch.

"Yes, I know he's supposed to meet me at my office at seven-thirty, but something's come up-an emergency." Pausing again, Zach sighed. "Doesn't he have a cell phone or a beeper that you could reach him on?"

There was a brief silence before Zach spoke again. "I see. Yes, I'll expect to see him at seven-thirty then."

Chelsea cleared her throat. "I'm decent." Only because the d.a.m.n skirt had stopped dropping right at her waist.

Zach didn't even glance her way. Propping one forearm against the window, he gazed down into the street. "I was hoping to move our appointment with the security expert up. That way he could get started, take you back to my apartment and you could get some rest."

"What about you?" Chelsea asked, moving closer.

"I have work to catch up on. I'll be staying here tonight. Mr. Romano will be arranging twenty-four hour protection for you, so you'll be safe."

For a moment, Chelsea said nothing. Zach's message was pretty clear. He was going to make sure she was taken care of-just not by him. It was a message she'd been given before-by her father. This time she tried to ignore the wave of rejection washing over her. An infant was hardly in a position to change the mind of a reluctant parent. But she wasn't an infant anymore. This time, even if she couldn't change Zach's mind, she'd have a memory of this one night.

Dropping her left hand, she grabbed a fistful of the fabric of the skirt and tugged hard. Then she repeated the same procedure with her right hand, wiggling her hips as she did so. But her blazer was doing too good a job of holding the skirt in place. And Zach seemed altogether fascinated by the scene outside the window. While she gave the skirt another sharp tug, she followed the direction of his gaze.

A Christmas fantasy, she thought as she gazed down at the holiday scene in progress at Rockefeller Center. The tree sparkled with hundreds of lights while skaters blurred together into a rainbow of color as they whirled on the ice rink.

"For a man who claims not to like Christmas, you sure seem fascinated by that picture-postcard scene."

Zach blinked. The truth was he hadn't been looking at the scene below. From the moment she'd joined him at the window, all he'd been able to see was her reflection in the gla.s.s. She looked so pale-like an ethereal creature of the moonlight. Someone who couldn't be touched or captured. But the woman standing beside him was real. He could touch her, hold her. In spite of all his resolution, all he could think of was reaching out and doing just that. Fisting his hands, he shoved them into his pockets and said, "I don't like Christmas."

"Okay then." She began unfastening the b.u.t.tons of her blazer. "You know what they say?" Slipping out of it, she dropped it to the floor.

"What?"

"The best way to get rid of a bad memory is to replace it with a new one." She pulled the b.u.t.ton free at her waist.

"Chelsea, what are you doing?"

She shot him one look. Green fire, he thought as he backed to the far side of his desk.

"If you have to ask, I'm not doing it right." She jerked at the zipper. "And this skirt is not helping one bit. It's supposed to draw you like a magnet, and it's having the same effect on you as insect repellent."

Moonlight pooled around her as she moved toward him. For a moment, the skirt seemed to catch the light and glow. Then it once more became transparent and Zach felt his blood begin to pound.

She jerked again at the zipper. Backing away, Zach shook his head to clear it. "You don't want to do that."

"Oh, yes I do," she said, gritting her teeth. This time when she yanked, the zipper opened.

Zach shook his head again. As if it were a signal, the skirt began to inch its way down her hips.

He moved behind a chair; she circled around it, stalking him. His mouth dry as dust, Zach watched the skirt slip lower. "This could be a big mistake."

"Yeah, I know," she said as she gave the waistband a final push and sent it slithering down her legs. "But the thing about mistakes is you never know for sure until you've made them."

He stopped when he backed into the desk. She was still talking as she moved toward him, but he couldn't hear her over the drumming of his heartbeat, couldn't think over her scent swirling through him.

"Now, it's just me," she said as she raised her hands and rested them on his cheeks. "Don't you want me?"

"Chels, I've never wanted anyone more. But you haven't thought this through. I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you think I've been doing in the bathroom? I already figured all the pluses and the minuses." Her hands slid down his neck to unknot his tie. His knees weakened and he sat on the edge of the desk, gripping it hard with his hands. Slowly, she pulled the tie free and tossed it aside. The gesture made the first rip in his restraint.

"I'll skip the minuses. There're way too many," she said, rising on her toes until she could brush her lips against his. "And there's only one plus. This."

It was enough. More than enough, Zach thought as she deepened the kiss and her flavor streamed through him.

"You're irresistible," he murmured against her mouth as he lifted his hands to grip her wrists. Should he have known how free it would feel to give in? If she kept touching him, kissing him, he was going to lose whatever control he had left and take her right on top of his desk.

"Really?" With a quick smile, she freed her hands and went to work on his b.u.t.tons, slipping them free one at a time. She was pulling his belt off by the time he managed to capture them again.

"I hope your zipper doesn't stick."

He smiled then. "It won't. But I want to take this slow and easy. I can't if you keep touching me."

When she met his eyes, he saw the mischief and the hint of a laugh in hers. "Hard and fast has its pluses. Besides, you can always get it right the second time."

He laughed then. Was he ever going to be able to guess what she'd do or say next? Raising one of her hands, he kissed the veins on the inside of her wrist and felt her pulse scramble, watched her eyes darken. "I'll get it right this time."

"Want to bet?"

The challenge was in her eyes, but her voice had become breathy and she was no longer trying to pull free. Slowly, he raised her other hand and pressed his lips to her palm. "Chels, one thing I need to know-about protection?"

"I'm taking the Pill."

Keeping her hand tightly clasped in his, he leaned forward to press his mouth against her ear. "In that case, perhaps I should point out the minuses of hard and fast," he said.

"You could show me."

"It's all flash and fire. There's no time to imagine, to wonder what I'll do, where I'll touch you next." The moment she trembled, he drew back.

In the moonlight, her skin had the cool delicate look of porcelain. But it was warm as he brushed just the tips of his fingers along her cheekbone, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've waited so long to touch you. I don't want to rush." He ran one finger along her bottom lip. It was warm, moist. There was a pulse at her throat. He traced a path over it and felt it push against his skin. Once more, he felt her tremble and he clamped down on the needs that threatened to boil up like steam in a geyser.

"I want you to think about what it's going to be like." Barely touching her he slipped her b.u.t.tons free and eased her blouse down her arms. "Imagine exactly what it's going to feel like when my mouth is here." He traced the lace edge at the top of her camisole, then lowered his fingers to graze the tip of her breast. "And here."

When he pressed his mouth to her throat, Chelsea felt her knees turn to water. The sc.r.a.pe of his teeth at her collarbone sent a bolt of heat to her core.

"Did you know that your flavor changes when your skin heats?"

"Mmmmmm." It was the only response she could manage. Her head felt heavy, her arms weighted down as he slipped the strap of her camisole off one shoulder and then the other. Her skin burned as he drew it slowly down to her waist and over her hips. Reality blurred, giving way to the images he created with his words-words he whispered in her ear, telling her where he would touch her next even as his hands and mouth fulfilled his promises.

"Here," he murmured as his fingers traced a slow path down her bare skin to her waist and then below.

She wanted more. It seemed she had waited all her life for the press of those hard, lean hands on her skin. It was the one thought that seemed to filter its way through the sensations that swept over her, each one more vivid than the last. His touch wasn't so gentle now. She could feel hunger in the press of his fingers on her thigh. She could taste desperation when his mouth covered hers.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her lips.

"You," she managed. "Please." She was dimly aware of the scratch of carpet against her back, though she had no idea that he'd pulled her to the floor. Then his hand was moving lower, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties, slipping beneath the band to draw them down the length of her legs.

"Soon," Zach promised. To himself and to her. The fire that was raging inside of him, that he'd managed to bank for so long, was threatening to break free. It took all of his strength and control to lever himself up, but he wanted to see her eyes. He had to watch her face as he slipped his fingers into her heat.

She arched once, then again and again. Each movement had his blood pounding, his need doubling. He'd wanted to see her this way, trapped in the pleasure that he could bring her. He wanted her, only her.

You'll never let her go...

The words swirled through his mind as he watched stunned pleasure flood her cheeks and cloud her eyes. Then he gathered her close, holding her tightly as the shudders raced through her.

His own needs tearing through him, he settled his body over her and laced his fingers with hers. Inches away, he stared into her eyes and saw only himself, trapped in green fire. For a moment he didn't move. He'd never wanted a woman more. He'd never needed anyone like this. Even as he plunged into her heat, he was aware that a barrier that he had built deep within himself was crumbling a little each time he moved, each time she moved with him. Then he stopped thinking. He was aware of only her and the waves of sensations she could bring him. Heat. Light. Wind. They all seemed to pull at him as they moved together-faster, higher. But it was the sound of his name on her lips that shot him over the edge. Helpless, he poured himself into her.

10.

AFTERWARD, when he could think and breathe again, Zach rolled over but kept Chelsea with him, cradling her against his chest. It was only then that he became fully aware that they were lying half under his desk. The office was dark and quiet. He could feel the beat of her heart against his and the movement of her breath on his skin each time she exhaled. It occurred to him that he could have held her just like that for a very long time.

He had no idea whether or not she felt the same way. Things had happened so fast between them. Good grief, he'd known her for less than a week. They hadn't even gone out on a date. And he'd taken her on the floor of his office. It wasn't his usual style with women. Even as he tried to think of something to say, she reached out and ran her fingers along the leg of his desk chair. She was thinking of something else entirely.

"A penny for your thoughts," he said.

"I was just thinking that I'm still not sure."

Zach frowned. "Not sure of what?"

She rose up then, propping her forearms across his chest and meeting his eyes. "For a penny, that's all you're going to get."

The laugh broke free before he could prevent it. He tightened his arms around her in a quick hug. "Okay, I'm in for a quarter."

"Wow! Big spender!"

His eyes narrowed. "How about a buck?"

Biting her tongue, she considered then said, "I'm not sure which is better. Slow and easy or fast and hard. As far as I can see, the pluses and minuses are pretty well balanced."

His brows shot up. "Maybe we should try again?"

"My thought exactly."

He moved his hands to cup her face, holding it still so that she had to meet his eyes. "We'll do that right after you tell me what you were really thinking a few minutes ago while you were touching the chair."

She studied him for a minute. "It was silly really. I was just thinking how I had pictured myself sitting in this chair behind this desk, but I never imagined I'd end up practically underneath it like this."