Oh, hell. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. He just didn't want every lecher in the hotel mentally stripping his secretary. Damn it, he hated the way she made him feel. He wanted his sweet unassuming assistant back-the one he'd hired before she got the brainy idea to go for hypnosis and change herself.

As he opened his mouth to apologize, a spark ignited in her eyes and burst into a full-fledged blaze. "Well, I like the way I look." She glanced back at the group of tuxedoed men salivating behind her. "And so do they."

"Exactly." The way the guys kept shifting their hips, Jordan was sure every one of the men had a hard-on. He grabbed her elbow and turned her around so he could inspect her enticing bottom. "Do you even have panties on?"

"Of course I do." She yanked her arm away from him. "It's called a thong."

Oh, jeez. Why'd she have to tell him that? Now he would spend the entire night imagining the way she looked in it-hell, try the whole next month.

"You could've hidden more if you'd stuffed yourself into a damn condom. Every man in this room is picturing you naked in his bed."

Her mouth dropped open, and she expelled an outraged huff. Spinning on her heels, she muttered over her shoulder, "Obviously, there's at least one who isn't."

Like hell.

She'd been having such a good time. Until Jordan showed up.

The day had been like a fairytale. During her afternoon at the spa, Hannah had been waxed, plucked, scrubbed, and massaged like a turkey being prepared for a Thanksgiving feast. Once they'd finished making the skin on her entire body glow, they'd unleashed Donovan the crazed hairdresser on her.

After the genius had whacked off huge hanks of her hair and highlighted it, the cosmetologist had applied her make-up. When Hannah slipped her dress on at Edward's house earlier, she'd had to blink several times to see the resemblance between herself and the beautiful vision in the mirror. She didn't even want to think about how much of Jordan's money Edward had spent to transform her.

And the big jerk didn't even like the results.

Tonight was the first time in her life men had ever pursued her. It felt wonderful to be admired by so many good-looking guys. Jordan had ruined it all.

She dashed past Bryce and his pals, making a beeline for the exit. Skidding to a halt in the lobby, she nearly toppled off her four-inch Plexiglas heels. They reminded her of Cinderella's glass slippers, except her designer shoes weren't pumps. The tops of the sexy three-hundred dollar sandals were merely thin, white satin straps covered with little rhinestones that set off the hot pink polish she'd chosen for her pedicure.

And Prince Charming hadn't even looked at them.

Charming? Ha! More like Prince Jackass.

All she wanted was to go home and have a good cry. As she headed toward the door to ask the parking valet to call her a taxi, a big hand grabbed her wrist. "Hannah, what's wrong?"

She looked up to a concerned pucker in Bryce's forehead. "Apparently, Mr. Kendall, your rude friend thinks I look like a tramp in this dress."

"Call me Bryce. And you look beautiful." He wiped the moisture from her cheek. "Your dress is no different than half the women's in there. You simply look better in yours."

"Thank you." She sniffled.

"Jordan's just upset because he doesn't like the way men are looking at you now."

"I don't care what the big oaf's reasons are."

He'd made her feel cheap-something she'd spent her whole life trying to avoid feeling. Diana's words echoed in her ears. A woman's sensuality doesn't define her morality, and looking desirable and sexy isn't a commentary on a person's character.

"Would you mind taking me home?"

"Would I mind take-" Bryce burst out laughing. "Hannah, I like my job, not to mention, I've developed this nasty habit of needing to eat regularly."

"Tell me about it." She never would've accepted her position if she hadn't needed a roof over her head.

"I have a better idea. Let's go back inside and dance. If you want to teach Jordan a lesson, there's no better way than to let him watch you having a good time without him."

Bryce guided Hannah back into the candlelit ballroom and escorted her onto the dance floor. Pulling her into his arms, he whispered, "Okay, now act like you're having the time of your life."

Now she understood why Callie was so crazy about Bryce. Her friend's boss, in a subtle roundabout way, was offering to help make Jordan jealous.

"Didn't you bring a date tonight?" she asked.

"Why would I do that? This bachelor auction is the biggest pick-up event of the year."

Hannah stiffened. "Bachelor auction?"

Bryce drew back and looked at her askance. "You mean, you didn't know?"

"Unh-uh. I thought they were just auctioning off a bunch of heirlooms or something."

"Yeah, right. Jordan is one of the heirlooms on the auction block tonight."

"Oh, really?" She smiled as everything clicked into place. "So that's why Edward gave me the signed, blank check and told me to spend as much as I wanted this evening."

"Ahhh, such sweet revenge." Bryce chuckled. "Don't look now, but Jordan's watching, and he doesn't look happy. In fact, it's not going to take much to send him right into orbit."

"I thought you were worried about your job?"

"Taking you home and leaving Jordan without a date wouldn't be playing fair. But letting him think you prefer me over him is a whole different ballgame. This will be good for him."

In any case, it would be good for her morale. She fired a cat-in-the-cream look at Jordan and flashed her most dazzling smile at her dance partner. "Mr. Kendall, you've just earned yourself a batch of my cookies."

Bryce was absolutely right. What better way to get back at Jordan than to make him crave what he was so determined to resist?

When Bryce pulled Hannah closer, Jordan gritted his teeth. "That SOB's going to be eating my fist as an appetizer," he muttered under his breath.

He stomped onto the dance floor and yanked his friend away from her, jerking his head toward the door. "Take a walk. I'm cutting in."

"You have a lot of nerve." Hannah huffed. As Jordan wrapped his arms tightly around her, she shoved her palms against his chest.

"Hush. I don't think it's too much for a man to expect his date to dance with him."

"Oh, is that what I am? Even with my limited experience with men, I know it's customary for a guy to compliment his date-not tell her she looks like a slut."

"I'm sorry. And I didn't say you looked like-"

"You might as well have."

What could he tell her? That her transformation reminded him of Marcy's metamorphous sixteen years ago and the pain it had caused him? First he would have to admit the shame he still felt.

"Look, I think you're drop-dead gorgeous. But I asked my assistant, Hannah Oliver, to come to this shindig with me, not some sexed up Marilyn Monroe version of her."

"Oh, that's right. One of the reasons you hired me was because no one would ever believe you'd be interested in a frump like me. Well, for your information, Mr. Calder, this is the only version of Hannah Oliver you'll be seeing from now on. I'm done being a wallflower."

God help him if she came to office dressed like this.

As the song came to an end, she drew back from him and jabbed his chest with her manicured fingernail. "You're just afraid, if men find me attractive, I'll have better things to do at night than sit home and bake you cookies!"

Now that the instruments were silent, her voice reverberated through the ballroom.

"Shhh!" He glanced around at the couples nearby on the dance floor. "Keep your voice down."

"Pardon me. I forgot about that sterling example you're supposed to set for your employees," she muttered as the band eased into a soft, seductive number.

"Precisely." He pulled her close again. "And believe me, at the moment, your cookies are the last thing on my mind." He clenched his teeth at the way her lush body swayed against his in time to the soft romantic music. He wanted a hell of a lot more than baked goods from her.

As she opened her mouth to blast him again, he shoved her head onto his shoulder, muffling her retort with the lapel of his tux. "Just be quiet and dance."

Gliding slowly around the dance floor, he pressed his face into her silky hair and breathed in her summery fragrance. "You smell just like the inside of my grandmother's closet when I was a kid."

"Gee, thanks. Now I stink like mothballs. You really need to work on your-"

He pressed his fingers over her lips. "Just dance." He rested his chin against her forehead. "It might please you to know my grandmother kept dried flowers from our garden in her closet."

At that, Hannah melted in his arms. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shhh."

She gazed up at him while he stroked her satiny shoulder and led her around the dance floor, staring into her eyes. He could hold her like this forever.

"I like your necklace and earrings," he whispered. "Did I buy them, too?"

"No. They belonged to your grandmother. Edward lent them to me for tonight."

"I thought they looked familiar." He smiled. "I'd like you to have the set. Consider them a birthday gift."

Hannah pressed her hand over the glittering choker of emerald-cut diamonds. "Are you crazy? How do you think it would look for me to accept jewelry worth a small fortune from you? You should save these for your future wife."

"Aren't you forgetting I don't intend to get married?"

"Plans change. And if not, then save them for your daughter."

"It's sort of tough to have one of those without a wife."

"Tough but not impossible. You could always use a surrogate. Being illegitimate, I hate the idea of raising a child alone, but I also want to be a mother. So if I don't get married in the next few years, I'll seriously think about artificial insemination."

He squeezed her tighter and pictured her belly swollen. For some reason, the thought of her carrying another man's baby put his gut in an uproar.

"A surrogate is an option," he agreed. "But I don't think I'm daddy material."

"Why not?"

"Let's just say my father wasn't exactly Mike Brady."

Even if he wanted to have a kid, Jordan would never choose to use a surrogate. He'd at least had his grandmother to love him. If he ever became a father, he'd want his child's mother to play a big part in his kid's life.

With his workload at Calder, he'd be hard-pressed as a single parent to provide all the love and attention a child needed. And no kid of his would ever be raised by a nanny. "If I ever get soft in the head and decide to become a dad, I'll check to see if you need a sperm donor and volunteer."

When the music faded, he couldn't force himself to release Hannah. Instead, he continued to stare at her beautiful face for several moments. By the time he finally broke the connection between their gazes, the two of them were the only people left on the dance floor. Evidently, the band had taken an intermission while the waiters served dinner.

"I guess we should find my grandfather," he rasped. "I'm sure he's saved us seats at his table." As they wound their way between the guests' chairs, Jordan said, "By the way, I saw Edward dancing with an attractive middle-aged woman earlier. You don't know who she is, do you?"

"I presume my grandmother. And she'd kiss you if she heard you call her middle-aged. I hope you don't mind, but she's wearing your grandma's pearls."

He stopped short. Her grandmother? He'd been expecting a white-haired little old lady. "How in the world did she-" He waved his hand. "Never mind. I don't think I really want to know."

With each second, the night became more and more complicated.

The cloying scent of perfume suddenly wafting around him made the ballroom smell like a bordello. "Hello, Jordan."

He stiffened at the familiar, breathy voice behind him and turned to the willowy redhead. "Hello, Renee. What're you doing here?"

"Spending an evening with some old friends from Calder. I've been waiting for you to realize what a mistake you made."

"I hope you haven't been holding your breath. Oxygen deprivation kills brain cells." And her attempt to seduce him at the office proved she didn't have many to spare.

She cast a venomous glare at Hannah and trailed one of her scarlet lacquered talons down his chest. "Apparently, you're not adverse to a little hanky-panky with some of your assistants. At least I was content to confine our relationship to your office."

"Your claws are showing, Renee." He shoved her hand away. "If you don't mind, we're about to have dinner."

"That's fine. We'll have plenty of time to catch up after the auction. On our date."

"Right. You haven't got that much money," he muttered. The tickets for this shindig alone had probably cleaned out her savings account.

"Oh, did I neglect to mention I inherited my uncle's entire estate?"

Great.

As he led Hannah away, Renee's catty laugh trilled after them. "And by the way, my neighbor told me to thank you for hiring her cousin this morning. I'm sure she would love to share my date with you, if you'd like."

He stalled in his tracks. So that was how Lily knew about the Love Machine cartoon and his problems with the board. It figured the nympho would know Renee. Species always attracted their own kind.

Hannah tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "She's the woman who ran into me coming off the elevator in the lobby last week. I didn't realize she was your ex-assistant. It explains the nasty look she threw at me."

"What day was that?"

"The last time I went to lunch with Ed-" Hannah slapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my gosh. You think she's the one who changed the figures on the quarterly report?"