She glanced up and found his nose inches from her hair and his attention trained on the nape of her neck rather than the page he was supposed to be checking. Their gazes locked for several tense moments. The office was so quiet, she was certain he could hear her heart hammering. Or was that his?

Finally, he broke the deafening silence. "You-" His husky voice cracked like a pubescent boy's. He cleared his throat and started again. "You smell nice."

"Th-thank you." She glanced up at him. "But you don't seem to be concentrating."

He straightened and tossed the printout onto the desk. "This looks good. I'm confident you fixed everything."

"You really should review the actual presentation in the conference room."

"Isn't it the same as what's on these pages?"

"Not exactly. Those are the handouts that correspond to it. I've added some graphics and special effects that I think you'll like. You might want to practice what you're planning to say in conjunction with each slide to perfect the timing."

He nodded and stared at her mouth, not uttering a word.

"Jordan? Do you want a preview?"

Raking his gaze down her body, he breathed out a nearly inaudible, "Hell, yeah." He blinked and lifted his gaze to hers. "Umm, sorry. Can you stay a little longer and set it up?"

Did she dare? All afternoon she'd kept picturing Jordan naked. If she were intelligent, she'd go home and drown her libido in wonton soup and watch a Hugh Jackman movie to help push her boss's muscular body out of her mind. Instead, she said, "Sure. No problem."

Okay, so her IQ must lean more toward idiot than genius.

As Hannah followed him into his office, he loosened the top button on his shirt, and she held her breath in anticipation. She had to get a grip on herself. "It's better if we finish up tonight. I'll undoubtedly be busy Tuesday morning preparing for the meeting, so you'd better take advantage of me now while you can."

"Don't tempt me," he muttered and tugged off his tie.

"Huh?

"Ignore me. I'm just so horn-hungry I'm talking to myself." He sauntered to the bar and opened the freezer. "What's your pleasure? Beef stroganoff or chicken Marsala?"

Her pleasure? How about him tearing off her clothes and ravishing her? She mentally pulled herself up short. She was really losing it.

When her stomach growled, she glanced at the clock, surprised it was almost seven-fifteen. "They both sound great."

"Okay. I'll heat one of each, and we'll share." He dug two small glass casseroles out and peeled the frosty rubber lids off them. "Our housekeeper, Elaine, packs up leftovers for the freezer here, so I have something to eat when I work late."

"You said our housekeeper. Who-"

"Edward." Jordan placed the first casserole in the microwave and started it.

"I didn't realize he lives with you."

"Technically, I live with him." He pulled a bottle of merlot from the wine rack. "When your grandfather lives in a mansion with five garages on a thirty-seven acre estate and has live-in servants to take care of him, it seems a bit ridiculous to buy a condo."

Even after a whole month of working for Jordan, she still didn't know much about his personal life other than he'd dated and sent flowers to at least six different women in four weeks.

The messages he'd dictated for the florist's cards were always some variation of, 'Thanks for a great evening,' and the closing was always just Jordan-never Love Jordan or even Affectionately or Warmest regards. He'd left it up to Hannah to decide what kind of flowers to send but had stipulated that she should never order roses.

"I've been meaning to ask you something. Are you allergic to roses, or do you just dislike them?"

"No." He chuckled, easing out the wine bottle's cork. "What I'm allergic to is the meaning women read into roses. Especially red ones. For some reason, they see them as a profession of love, and right away, they start talking marriage."

Hannah removed a couple of plates from the cabinet and then two sets of silverware from the drawer. "I think Edward would be ecstatic if you sent a few roses. He's concerned about the number of women you date."

"That's only because he wants great-grandchildren." Jordan smiled at her sideways and slid two wine glasses from the rack under the cabinet. "You know, I don't date as many women as everyone thinks. I've been seeing the same six ladies exclusively for over a year-each about twice a month."

"Not so often that they might get romantic ideas about your relationship, huh?"

"Exactly." He poured some merlot into a glass and handed it to her.

Breathing in the wine's sweet bouquet, she tasted it and stared over the rim of her goblet at his sensual mouth sipping from his glass. How would his lips feel on hers? Coaxing? Tender? Demanding?

"Don't look at me that way. It's obvious what you're thinking."

She certainly hoped not. Clearly he thought she was wondering if he slept with all of them. And to be honest, she was. "And what would that be?"

He pulled the first casserole dish from the microwave and slid the second one in to heat. "No." He shook his head. "The last thing I should be discussing with you is my sex life." He spooned some creamy stroganoff onto each of their plates and snorted. "I don't know why I even started this conversation." He raised one hand. "No, wait. I do know why. It's that disapproving little pout you get every time I give you a new address to send flowers."

Her opinion of him mattered? A warm feeling swelled in her chest. "I didn't think you cared what people thought of you."

"I don't." A deep crevice split his forehead. "Usually. But just so you don't think I'm a total creep-my dates all know I see other women, and I've told them about the nature of each of my relationships."

"So none of them have any expectation of a long-term commitment down the road?"

"Nope. That's part of the reason I continue dating them." He sat next to her and dug into his meal, his spicy sandalwood aftershave mingling with the food's heavenly aroma.

Hannah tasted the noodles smothered in a beef and mushroom sauce. "Mmmm, this is delicious. So what have you got against marriage?" Judging from what he'd said about being worked over earlier, it was clear at least one woman had betrayed him. "You sound like you put Holy matrimony on a par with capital punishment."

Chapter 6.

fan*ta*size v. 1. To portray in the mind; imagine. To indulge in fantasies.

Extreme caution must be used in fantasizing, lest one forces it into reality.

"More like Holy acrimony," Jordan muttered as the microwave beeped. Why were all women so damn eager to see a man shackled? "Have you seen the divorce rate in this country?"

He might have been only eleven when his mother walked out, but he had a clear memory of the cold war that had raged between his parents.

"Yes, I have. At least sixty percent of the couples live happily ever after. And I recently read the divorce rate is actually dropping."

Jordan raised his hands. "Hey, I was just kidding. I really don't have anything against the institution of marriage. I think it's great. For other people."

The only way he would ever consider marriage would be if he could have what his grandparents had shared-something rare and special. Sadly, that would never happen.

Inasmuch as he liked the fairer sex and enjoyed women's company, the shame his mother had heaped on him before abandoning him and the guilt and self-loathing his college girlfriend, Marcy, had saddled him with had left him incapable of ever trusting anyone enough to marry them.

"I'm really not a womanizer, Hannah." In fact, he only slept with a couple of the women he dated since he had no interest in contracting an STD. His two lovers were just as careful as he was about getting tested and limiting how many partners they had. "I wouldn't mind an exclusive relationship, except the whole world"-namely his grandfather-"and the lady involved might read some significance into it. I don't want to give anyone false hope that we're more than just friends."

He'd made that mistake once a long time ago with Trudy while he was at Wharton earning his MBA. Since then, he' made sure never to let a woman believe she was the only female in his life.

As he scraped the wine-flavored chicken onto their plates, Hannah's gaze swept the luxurious executive suite. "Considering all your grandfather has done for you, I'd think you'd feel obligated to give him an heir."

"I do. In fact, I'd love to have a couple of kids, but not at the price I'd have to pay." It wasn't as if he'd asked for the 24-karat gold baby rattle he'd received the day he was born.

"Edward thinks if you got married the board would have less of a problem with you becoming chairman."

"I'm sure they would. But no job is worth selling out on happiness." And, even if he wasn't all that happy, he refused to leave himself open to being hurt again. "Enough about me. Since you're trying so hard to sell me on marriage, what happened between you and your fiance?"

"The amoeba cheated on me."

"Amoeba?" He laughed, nearly choking on his food.

"Yup. Kevin is so low I won't compare him to more than a single-celled organism."

"We're not, by any chance, a little bitter, are we?"

"With good reason. I didn't want to be like my mother, so I waited for a man who wanted to marry me. After only eight months, the bastard apparently got tired of me and cheated with my roommate." She drained her wine glass. "Who, by the way, ranks one step below mold and fungus."

She'd only slept with one guy in her entire life?

It shouldn't surprise him. Hannah was the type who would take sex seriously. Her lack of experience was something his libido would've been better off not knowing about.

He refilled her wine goblet and threw her a facetious grin. "Nahhh, you're not bitter. Didn't you tell me you wouldn't malign your past employ-"

"I'm not speaking of Kevin as my boss. The night I caught him, he'd asked me to stay late at the office to notarize a client's signature while he left early to get his car's oil changed-or so I thought. Fortunately, the client called and rescheduled, and I found Kevin doing the horizontal mambo with my roommate, Gina. Otherwise, I might've actually married him."

Jordan stopped eating and studied the angry flush in her cheeks. "So which of his crimes was worse, Hannah-cheating on you or making you feel like a fool for caring about him?"

She peered into his face. "So you understand how I felt?"

Regrettably, he did. But Marcy hadn't just betrayed him. She'd also humiliated him and stolen his self-respect.

In his attempt to force the resentment from his tone, his voice rasped. "It's hard enough being hurt by someone you care for. But realizing how gullible you were to love and trust them is the worst." And being on the rebound probably made her that much more vulnerable and susceptible to the attention Edward lavished on her. "I'm sorry I brought the subject up."

"It's okay." She lifted her wine goblet to take a sip. "Truthfully, I think I was more in love with the idea of getting married and having a family than I was with Kevin."

Jordan tapped the edge of her crystal glass with his, making it ping. "Well, here's to you meeting the man of your dreams."

Maybe then she'd stop looking at him as if he were a giant chocolate bar....with nuts.

They finished their meal in companionable silence, and afterward, he washed their dishes while Hannah set up the presentation. When it was ready, he dimmed the conference room lights to make the screen easier to see and sank into the leather chair next to her.

The setting sun outside the window cast a rosy glow on her face that matched her pink gauzy top and skirt. He breathed in her sweet fragrance and closed his eyes. Flowers and strawberries. That's why her scent reminded him of summer.

He forced his gaze to the screen and was entranced. The presentation began like a movie with the Calder company logo zooming onto the screen while the corporate jingle used in their ads played softly in the background. Pictures of employees-from the research laboratories and manufacturing right down to the foodservice and custodial staff-flew in from the screen's edge and then disappeared again.

Never had he seen such a creative presentation.

"Where'd you get all the pictures?"

"I took them on my digital camera."

"They're fantastic."

Not only did the colors and fonts set the perfect tone for the second fiscal quarter, the captions and photos held his attention and complimented the report without distracting from it. In fact, the presentation was better than the previous year's annual stockholder's report.

"You have a lot of talent. How did you find the time to do all this? It must've taken hours."

"I've been coming in early all week. Well, except for today. I overslept, which was why I was a little late this morning."

And then he'd accused her of trying to make him look bad. "Now I feel like a total bastard. I'm sorry about the way I reacted earlier."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to those figures. I can't-"

"Forget it. I have."

He studied every frame and practiced the script he'd written to accompany each one. After discussing a few minor changes in the timing of his delivery, he breathed a long sigh. The sun had finished setting, leaving the light from the screen as their only illumination.

"It's incredible. The only problem is now the board is going to expect flying pie charts every time, instead of the boring, static presentations they're used to seeing."

"I'm glad you like it." Her thick lashes dipped shyly, brushing her cheeks. She glanced back up, and the dim light sparkled in her gray eyes, making them shimmer like two pools of mercury he could easily drown in. As her lips parted, his tongue grew restless. After the incident in his gym, he should've cancelled working late.

He tore his gaze away and sprang to his feet. "Well, I guess I'd better let you go home."

He followed Hannah into her office where she logged off her computer and locked the filing cabinets. Picking up her large tote bag, she smiled. "Thanks for dinner-and lunch."

"No. Thank you. Now I'll be able to relax on my boat this weekend." As she opened the door, he remembered she'd arrived fifteen minutes late that morning and might be parked out in the boonies. "Wait a minute." He grabbed her hand, stopping her. "Where's your car?"

"In lot B, why?"

"Wait for me. I don't want you walking that far alone in the dark." On a Friday night before a holiday weekend, the parking lots were bound to be deserted.

"Afraid the boogeyman might get me, and there won't be any cookies next week?"

"Something like that." He smiled and discreetly tugged on his inseam. Then again, with the way he felt right now, she might be safer with the boogeyman.

Hannah waited by Jordan's door while he retrieved his suit jacket and grabbed the leftover cookies she'd emptied into a plastic bag earlier so she could refill the tin that weekend.

After he locked the office doors, she pressed the down button in the hall. When the elevator doors slid open, Jordan stepped aside and allowed her to precede him.