"Friends also don't chase the person their pal is crazy about."

Bryce shoved his shoulder. "I've only been flirting with Hannah to try to wake you up."

"Come on, you don't think I was on to your game?" Jordan twisted his mouth in a wry smile. "I may not be the most trusting soul, pal, but I don't need a seeing-eye dog like some people. I wasn't referring to any rivalry between us, you idiot."

"Then who the hell were-" Realization dawned on Bryce's face. "You're saying Callie is jealous of Hannah and me?"

"Bingo."

"No way." He waved his hands as if erasing the idea. "And even if she is into me, Callie would never do something like this. I've known her since she was five." Bryce shuddered as if the thought of a romantic relationship with Callie repulsed him. "Getting involved with her would be like sleeping with my sister."

"Who, I guarantee, doesn't see you as a brother. Take my word for it, she's into you. And don't tell me you don't find her sexy. I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching."

"Even if I gave in to my attraction, I'd just hurt her-and lose a great assistant."

"Join the club."

Where on earth was she? Jordan paced the length of his office Friday morning, glancing at the clock every few minutes. He hadn't been concerned when he'd arrived at work and discovered Hannah wasn't there yet. But, by nine o'clock, he'd begun to worry.

He'd been calling her house and cell phone every hour since yesterday afternoon. Now, at ten, the sour taste of fear bubbled up from his stomach. Had she really quit?

The door opening in the outer office made him turn around. The sight of Hannah's face forced a rush of relief from his lungs. He stomped out to her desk. "Where have you been? And why haven't you answered your phone?"

"Well, good morning to you, too." She dropped her tote bag on the floor next to her chair. She looked nearly as exhausted as he felt. "I didn't answer, because I really didn't feel like talking to you."

In other words, she wanted him to sweat for a while.

"Please believe me. I really am sorry. I hate to do it, but we need to get busy canceling the conference," he told her. "We'll have to refund everyone their regis-"

"No, we don't."

"I don't see any other option," he continued. "I called every hotel."

"We don't have to cancel."

"What do you mean? Without a venue-"

"Jordan, would you shut your yap for thirty seconds and let me talk?"

He loved her no-punches-pulled attitude. Very few people felt comfortable enough with him to tell him to shut up. He spread his hands and nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thank you. I got an idea yesterday for a way to fix this. How about we conduct Saturday's conference here? Calder isn't that far from the hotel. I checked with the local bus company, and they can provide shuttle service to bring the attendees back and forth. We can give a tour of the facility while we're at it."

"But Calder doesn't have an auditorium large enough to accommodate close to five hundred people at once. The main cafeteria only seats about three hundred at a time."

"I know. So I arranged for a huge tent along with tables and chairs and an AV company to provide the video and sound system with a technician. That's where I was this morning. It'll give the symposium sort of a country fair atmosphere. I put together a list of food vendors and caterers who might be interested in supplying lunch for the function. There's no reason we can't still make this work."

He stared at her for several heartbeats, trying to find some flaw in her plan-except he couldn't. It was a great idea. One he should have thought of himself.

"I don't know why I stayed up all night worrying." He took her hand and gazed into her glistening eyes. "Hannah, I'm sorry about yesterday. I really didn't believe you had anything to do with this mess."

"It doesn't matter." She pulled her hand back and sat behind her desk. "As soon as the conference is over, I'll be leaving. You can consider this my two-week notice."

Dear God, no. "Why? Because of the stupid way I overreacted? Or is it because of what happened between us on Friday night?"

"It's a lot of things. Mostly, it's because I'm in love with you."

He dropped his gaze to the carpet, unsure of how to respond. His throat closed as if he were having an anaphylactic reaction.

"This week, I had dates with four different guys who'll probably never ask me out again, because all I could think about while I was with them was you."

Four? He thought it'd only been three. Hank, Jeff, and Brad. That meant she must have gone out with someone he didn't know about that weekend. Maybe during the day?

"I can't move on with my life if you're still in it on a daily basis."

Good. He didn't want her moving on or working for anyone else. He wanted her sitting in his outer office where he could see her and hear her laughter. He wanted her baking him cookies, and teasing him, and bringing him lunch. Making him feel special.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it. As usual, he was making it all about him. More important than anything was Hannah's happiness. And what he was capable of offering her just wasn't enough.

Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded. "I understand. Let's worry about the future later. We have a lot to do."

With any luck, in the next two weeks he could change her mind about what it would take to make her happy.

Chapter 19.

din*gus n. Slang. 1. An article whose name is unknown or forgotten. 2. Vulgar slang. Penis (used especially in referencing the male organ in regards to sex). Also see: pecker, Johnson, dick, tally-whacker, cock, Willie, prick, one-eyed snake, Peter, weenie, and-by those boasting-third leg, love-shaft, pole, or sword.

The penis is a great lie detector-if a man tells you he loves you while his dingus is dangling, he's probably telling the truth.

The setting sun cast a rosy glow over Jordan's weary face while he scribbled his signature on the purchase orders Hannah had laid on his desk.

"It's getting late," she said after he finished. "Would you like me to fix you something to eat before I head home?" The rest of the employees had left hours ago.

Standing, he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. "Only if you'll stay and have dinner with me."

She yanked her hand back. "Jordan, I really-"

"Please." He wrapped his arms around her.

Pressing her cheek to his chest, Hannah inhaled the scent of laundry soap mingled with his aftershave and shivered. He made her feel so safe when he held her. He tipped her chin up and dotted her face with a series of tender kisses that made her chest ache. Maybe she was being stubborn. If she had Jordan's baby, perhaps one day....

No. She'd already made the mistake of thinking she could handle having an affair with him. And look where that assumption had gotten her.

His mouth covered hers in a kiss so tender, so poignant it brought a lump to her throat the size of one of her thumbprint cookies. While his seductive tongue coaxed her lips to part, he cupped her breast and stroked its nipple into a hard peak. The gentle throbbing between her legs became urgent and insistent, demanding relief.

She kneaded his shoulders, and he squeezed her bottom, murmuring, "Sweetheart, it's so good between us. How can you want to end this?"

"Please," she begged, unable to resist pressing her breast more firmly into his palm. "You're confusing me."

"Good. Maybe you'll realize what you're turning down." He slid his hand under her skirt, and his fingers burrowed beneath the crotch of her panties. "Damn, you're already wet."

An understatement if she'd ever heard one. In just seconds, his stroking left her drenched and aching to have him inside her.

He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and grinding his bulging fly into the cradle between her thighs. For half a minute, she allowed herself the pleasure of rubbing against him while he rocked his hips counterpoint, matching her frenzied pace.

"Oh, man, this would be so much better without all these clothes between us."

Oh, yes, it sure would be. She froze in his arms, realizing he hadn't even thought to close his door. "Stop it! I can't do this anymore."

He lowered her to her feet and took half a step back. "I'm sorry. But don't you see, Hannah? A relationship with me might be like a trip on a roller coaster and last only a short time. But I promise it will be the most exciting ride you'd ever go on."

"Maybe so," she whispered, smoothing her skirt, "but it's not worth how much I'll hurt after the ride is over."

"Then you understand how I feel. I can't invest myself in something permanent, either, while knowing the agony that lies ahead." He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, gazing into them. "If I said I loved you, would it change your mind?"

"Don't." Hannah clapped her hand over his lips, and blinked back the unshed tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't bear to hear him exploit and cheapen those words just to get what he wanted. It was bad enough he'd tried to bribe her to have his child and persisted in trying to use her body's weakness for him to get his way. "I'll see you on Monday. Have a nice weekend."

As she rushed out of his office, he called after her, "Hannah, wait! Stay and have dinner. Let's talk about this."

She stopped short and stuck her head back in his door. "Why? So you can seduce me into thinking with my heart instead of my head? Or, better yet, with my hormones?"

His silence and the pink tinge around his collar answered her question.

"You know, Jordan, we aren't that different. Before I came to work for you, I had no idea of my true worth or capabilities-personally or professionally."

And between her hypnotherapy, counseling, and how valued Jordan made her feel, she now knew she deserved and could accomplish anything she wanted. In fact, she was even thinking of taking Mr. Preston up on his offer to help her start her own business.

"You think I have poor self-esteem?" He scowled. "That's bullshit."

"Is it? And yet you can't let yourself commit to me because you don't believe you're worthy of my love."

"It's not about feeling unworthy."

"Well, it's a good part of it." She strode back into the room and stood toe to toe with him. "All your life, women have treated you as if you were put on this earth solely to give them multiple orgasms and buy them expensive gifts. You've come to see yourself as a giant, gold-plated penis."

"Just because women persist in using me, doesn't mean I don't know my own value. I wouldn't be the success I am, if I didn't.

"Really? Then why can't you trust that I could love you for more than what you can give me in and out of bed?"

He stared at her silently, neither agreeing with nor denying her pop analysis. His throat muscles flexed as if he was having trouble swallowing. After almost half a minute he spoke. "Maybe you're right. I sure as hell don't deserve you."

"Why not? You may have done some things you're not proud of, but nothing you've told me changes how I feel about you or diminishes how much I enjoy making love with you."

"If that's the case,"-he put his arms around her-"let me come home with you tonight."

"No." She yanked herself free. "I refuse to prolong my agony, Jordan. One thing we both should've learned from our relationship is phenomenal sex isn't the answer. Going to bed together didn't accomplish a thing except ruin any chance of us working together-just like we were afraid it would."

"She's wrong." Jordan slapped several slices of ham and cheese onto a Kaiser roll he'd smeared with mustard and mayo that evening.

Making love with Hannah had done a lot more than just destroy their working relationship. He'd never be able to have sex with another woman again without wishing she were Hannah.

"Who're you talking to?" Edward shuffled into the kitchen in his robe, his slippers scuffing on the ceramic floor.

"Uhhh, no one. I'm just thinking out loud."

"You're kind of late tonight. Did you figure out who sent that cancellation letter?"

"Unfortunately, no. Not that many people knew enough details about the conference to do this." While Jordan sliced a tomato, he told Edward about his horrendous day.

"So maybe it wasn't someone who works there?"

"What are you implying?" Jordan asked. "Corporate sabotage by one of our competitors?"

"No. I was thinking more along the lines of revenge by a woman scorned."

"Yeah, but which one. Renee or Trudy?"

"Trudy Hoffman?" His grandfather's head snapped up. "You haven't been involved with her since you were at Wharton." Edward's gaze narrowed. "Or have you been messing around with her since then?"

"No. I just mentioned her because she seems to resent Hannah more than anyone else I've ever been interested in." Probably because she could tell that, unlike the other women he'd been with, he really cared for Hannah. "But as the VP of Accounting, Trudy wouldn't have known enough about the conference to sabotage it."

"So then what about Renee? Didn't she originally make all the arrangements?"

Jordan drew his eyebrows together, placing the mustard and mayo back in the fridge. "But I know her handwriting. The signature wasn't anything like hers."

"Maybe she had someone else sign the letter," Edward suggested.

"I suppose that's a possibility. But we're pretty sure Hannah's letterhead was stolen on Friday after the facility closed to the public. Security has strict instructions not to allow Renee into the building even during work hours. I can't see a guard putting his job on the line for her."

"Well, with the long day you put in, I hope you at least got things straightened out for the conference."

"Sort of." Jordan placed some lettuce and several tomato slices on his sandwich and told his grandfather about Hannah's plan. "But that's not why I'm so late. I've been running on the treadmill at the office, trying to figure out how to fix the mess I made with her last Friday."

Edward filched a piece of the tomato and quietly watched him. The old man had a real knack for using silence to coax information out of people.

"I really blew it," Jordan continued, spilling his guts to his grandfather about his proposition and Hannah's reaction. "So now, she won't even have a cup of coffee with me let alone a baby."

"Good for her."