Kyra bolted upright in bed.  The thumping in her head matched the drumbeat of distant pounding coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the front of her condo.  

Was someone knocking on her door?

She glanced at the bedside clock.  Who in the world would come calling at midnight?

It’s Rob, jazzed about his date with Lou, and ready to fill you in, her brain answered.

Without a thought to her appearance, she jumped off the mattress, shot down the hall, and swung open the door.  “Keep it up and someone will call the police,” she said in a whispered hiss.  “If they haven’t al--”  

Jake’s dark brows rose as he inspected her from head to toe.  “Were you expecting someone else?” 

Kyra quickly closed her gaping mouth.  “Excuse me?”

Bold as a Titan, he muscled his way past her and into the kitchen.  After setting a box and a huge bottle of champagne on the table, he slipped the jacket from his broad shoulders and hung it on the back of a chair. Staring, he ran his gaze over her sleepwear a second time.  “Nice outfit.”

Kyra made a move to cover herself, then thought better of it.  He’d already seen her nude.  What was so unnerving about her chiton? 

When his heated stare turned molten as lava from a newly-erupted volcano, she peered down and noted the reason.  The gown was almost as sheer as the one she had yet to wear, and so short, it barely covered her hips.  

“It’s what I sleep in when I’m home.  I’m not in the habit of entertaining guests at midnight.”

He raised his head and their gazes met.  “I’m here to  apologize.”

“Apologize?  For what?” she asked, hoping she sounded blasé and totally disinterested.  He’d have to beg on his hands and knees before she’d consider forgiving him.  

“I should have called when I realized I wasn’t going to make our dinner date, but--”

“Oh, did we have a date?”

“Yes, damn it, we had a date.  But something important came up, and I--”

“Something more important than me?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Of course not.”  

“Then you must have forgotten where I was from four until oh, say, six-thirty.”

 “Um...no.”

“You got a phone call from your uncle?”

“Themopolis?  No.”

“You fell from a ladder and broke your leg.”

“Shit, Kyra.”  His lips thinned.  “You’ve canceled on me before.”

“And if you’ll remember, I called whenever I did.”  Stepping back, she stretched out an arm to usher him from the room.  “It’s late, I’m tired, and you’re delusional.  Now if you’ll just go quietly...”

Jake leaned down and pulled a champagne glass from each pocket of his jacket.  Grabbing the bottle of bubbly, he went to the sink, set down the flutes, and found a towel.  Turning in her direction, he began opening the bottle.  “You’re right.  I know.  I’m a jerk.”

She gave a bored yawn, and plopped into a chair.  “And I’m so not in the mood.”

The cork popped to the ceiling and bounced off the light fixture before falling to the floor.  He poured the foaming wine into the glasses and carried them to the table.  “I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.”

Kyra tamped back a grin.  Now they were getting somewhere.  She arched a brow.  “Not in this lifetime.”

He dropped to one knee and offered her a drink.  “It won’t happen again.  I swear.”

Better, she thought.  But not much.  “How do I know that?”

“Because you have my word.”  He raised his glass and grinned, his blue eyes devouring her.  “To us?”

She sighed.  Damn, but he knew exactly when to use that sexy, come here, baby smile.  The temperature in the room rose to blast furnace level when his stare drifted to the front of her chiton.  She sipped at the fizzy liquid, hoping to cool her burning libido, but the bubbles went straight to the apex of her thighs and ignited a slow simmer.  

Gazes locked, they finished their wine.  Jake rose, removed the glass from her fingers, and set it on the counter.  In three steps, he stood before her and pulled her to her feet.  His hot- as-Hades smile seared her chest, and her nipples puckered.  

Reaching out, he palmed one tightened bud.  “You are amazing.”  He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the counter, and sat her next to the champagne bottle.  Filling his glass, he dipped his finger in the bubbly wine and swirled it around the fabric covering her nipple.  

The sizzle in her core spread outward, sending jolts of desire through her body.  Jake read her reaction, stepped between her open legs, and captured her lips.  His tongue teased hers and she tasted the sweet tang of champagne mixed with a potent dose of lust.   He trailed his mouth to her ear, her throat, her collarbone, and finally, the champagne-dampened nipple.  Catching the aching tip between his lips, he suckled though the filmy fabric, drawing the throbbing peak into his mouth.  

His hand grazed her thigh and inched upward into her damp curls.  Inserting a finger between her folds, he circled her clitoris, massaging the pulse point.  After three long strokes, she cried out with the force of her orgasm.  

Trembling in pleasure, Kyra wrapped her legs around his waist, and he lifted her off the counter.  “The bedroom.  Where is it?” he rasped.

She melted against him.  “Down the hall.  Hurry.”

His chuckle was harsh, desperate.  “Baby, you can’t imagine how much I want to be inside of you.”

Jake stumbled down the corridor, found the bed, and fell on top of her as they tumbled to the mattress.  Lost in a battle of wills, he let Kyra roll him to his back and sit astride his thighs.  Buttons flew as she ripped his shirt apart and exposed his chest.  

He pulled the gown from her shoulders and it pooled at her waist, baring her breasts.  She undid his belt, clawed at his zipper, dragged his pants and boxers to his knees.  Then she took him in her hands, bent to lick his engorged shaft and cup his balls.  Afraid the touch of her tongue would send him to the point of no return, he ground out, “Wait.  I need a condom.” 

He struggled to reach the pocket of his slacks, found what he wanted and ripped the packet, but Kyra snatched it from his hands and slid the rubber onto his erection.  Jake grasped her waist and guided her over and down, impaling her on his penis.  Arching up, he slammed against her until he felt himself locked inside her hot wet core.

She leaned over him and he found her breast, scraped the nipple with his teeth, sucked her into his mouth.  Her cries of pleasure spurred him on, faster, deeper, harder, until she shouted her completion in the curve of his neck.    

She slumped to his chest and settled her still quivering body on him like a blanket.  Jake enveloped her in his arms and held her, stroking her back.  After a long moment, her frantic pants became slow, steady, even.  Cocooned in her slick warmth, he ran his hands over her rounded bottom.  Never happy with stick-skinny woman and their store-bought breasts, he reveled in the lush curves and womanly softness he knew belonged to Kyra  alone.

She squeezed her honeyed walls, and he moaned.  “You’re killing me.”

“Funny, it feels like you’re alive and doing very well.”

“Not so funny,” he muttered.  “I’m barely breathing.”

“I thought you worked out in the hotel health club.”

“I do.  Unfortunately, there’s no specific piece of equipment that prepares a man for this type of exercise.”  He smiled.  “The only thing that helps is practice.”

She giggled.  “Must mean you need dozens of hours of repetition to build up your stamina, huh?”

“After that kind of workout, I think it would be more like hundreds,” he said, trying to keep his tone serious.

She gave a contented sigh and burrowed deeper.  “Maybe we could start in the morning?”

Thank God she was exhausted, because he wasn’t sure he could handle another round right now.  She’d worn him out, wrung him dry, used him up in the best way possible.  Next time, they’d take is slow, savor the moment, make it last, instead of burning the sheets.  

Kyra’s breathing turned to a soft snore, and he realized she’d fallen asleep.  Easing her off his chest, he tucked her tight against his side, snuggled her head on his shoulder, and pulled the comforter over the both of them.  Then he gazed at the shadows playing on the ceiling.

He’d had sex with dozens of women, and most of it had been meaningless.  Oh, he’d loved Corinne, or at least he thought he had, until he found out she’d cheated on him.  He now realized what they’d had was more the other four letter word, because lust and love were often confused.  After his divorce, he never believed he would find that special woman who could fire both in his life. 

Kyra muttered an unintelligible phrase and he grinned, but the smile was short-lived.  How in the hell was he going to tell her he’d begun this affaire in the hope of wheedling his way into her good graces and trapping her in a lie?       

What would she say when she learned he’d been sent here to catch a thief, and she’d been his first suspect?

Now that he was certain she was innocent, how could he put the brakes on this...whatever the heck they were doing, and get back on the straight and narrow?

Beautiful, competent, loyal, bright, witty, kind.  Kyra was all those things and more, yet there was an innocence about her, a wide-eyed way of looking at things, her computer for instance, that made him laugh.  She cared about her job and her friends.  Eddie, Rob and Lou, even the people she graced with her good luck taps, were in her thoughts on a daily basis.  

The reality of it all gave him pause.  Now what the hell was he supposed to do?