The thought was both troubling and arousing. As she traveled down their long driveway toward the main road, she considered her options for Friday night. She might have to organize a distraction to take her mind off his tall gorgeousness and heaving testosterone, or she’d invite him inside and lead him straight to her bedroom.

Then again, so what if she did?

Trey was obviously interested in more than a professional relationship. His kisses held the unspoken promise of steamy pleasure. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and her body came alive in his presence, ached for his touch.

Should I…or shouldn’t I?

It wasn’t as if they’d have time to take a relationship deeper than quenching their desires. Normally, if she both liked a man and was attracted to him, she ran in the opposite direction. She’d learned to keep men at a distance emotionally. No strings meant no disappointment when the guy learned she couldn’t have kids, the ultimate relationship deal breaker.

But in this situation, she was pretty sure she’d nail her upcoming interview, and ActionNet would offer her the position in Phoenix. What could it hurt to enjoy a sexy fling until then?

The thought of his big muscled body tangled with hers made her inhale a sharp breath. Yes.

Anticipation tugged at her core.

She knew what—and who—she’d be doing Friday night.

Chapter 3

When Trey rang Devon’s doorbell Friday after work, he had his hands full. A dozen roses, a hand-selected bottle of pinot noir, and Chinese takeout.

A flurry of commotion came from within. The sound of four paws scampering across hardwood floors and the incessant barking of a pint-sized dog surprised him. Devon never mentioned she had a dog. Then he frowned. Unless her dog had the teeth and bite strength of a great white shark, it wasn’t going to defend against burglars or evil genius hackers, but Trey gave him high marks for enthusiasm.

Hopefully, Logan had hooked Devon up with a stellar security device when she’d worked at Stone Security. While she lived in a nice neighborhood with newer townhouses, a single woman couldn’t be too careful, and he’d make it a point to investigate the extent of her alarm system.

Her miniature guard dog approached the screen door, baring its equally miniature teeth.

“Peanut, knock it off.” Devon opened the screen door with one hand, while holding her dog back with the other. “Come on in, Trey. Don’t mind Peanut. He likes to assert his authority for a few minutes, but eventually he’ll calm down.”

Trey entered, and the scent of vanilla and peaches greeted him. He stared down at the barking white furball. When the dog reared onto its hind legs to get a better sniff, it barely reached Trey’s knees. “Hey there, killer.”

“Yeah,” Devon snorted. “In his dreams.”

“At least he has high aspirations. About knee-high.”

“Hey, don’t knock his manhood with short jokes. He gets testy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Trey stared at the little dog with bemusement. As a bounty hunter, he’d encountered plenty of pit bulls and junkyard dogs out for blood. A stab of phantom pain shot through his forearm, where a scar remained from a wicked dog bite. He was used to ferocious, but he had no idea what to do with this small bouncy thing. Except try not to step on it. “My ankles won’t know what bit them.”

“Clever,” Devon remarked on his pun. His breath caught in his chest when she smiled at him and her eyes sparkled like a deep lake in the moonlight. Then her smile molded into an “o” of surprise when she took in the extent of his gifts. “What’s all this?”

“A few things I picked up along the way.” He raked a long, slow gaze over her.

Devon looked ready for a night on the town. She’d straightened her shiny dark hair, the ends brushing her bare shoulders. Her black slinky tank top clung to her slender curves, highlighting her small pert breasts—and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her jeans hugged her ass perfectly, and he followed the long lines of her legs to her high heels showing a hint of her red polished toes.

He swallowed, his mouth going dry. My God, she’s gorgeous. There was no way he could keep his hands to himself tonight. If she was going for that effect, she’d succeeded.

“You look insanely hot.” He paused, realizing how crass that sounded. “Sorry. I seem to lose my mental filter around you.”

“Do you hear me complaining?” Her teasing smile sent his blood rushing south, and he had to shift to ease the sudden tightness in his pants. When she touched the soft tips of one rose, her expression melted into pleasure. Trey experienced a sense of victory. Then she shifted her focus to the wine, and a sultry look stole into her eyes. “You had me at the roses. But Martinelli Pinot Noir? Now you’ve earned bragging rights.”

Trey needed to distract himself, or he’d blow his chance of seducing her by slinging her over his shoulder and hauling her to the nearest bed. Or couch. Or horizontal surface. “Do you have a vase and a wine opener?”

She nodded. “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll put the flowers in water and pour two glasses of wine for us.”

She disappeared into her bright, white-on-white kitchen. On his way to her living room, he wandered through her first floor. Her home appeared well-kept and stylish, with cream walls, pastel contemporary art, and warm hardwood floors. A stark contrast to his 1970s, outdated ranch-style house. He hadn’t bought it for the décor, but for the view, and he’d already met with several contractors to redesign the floor plan and build an addition.

On first impression, he found her home spacious and welcoming. He wondered if her heart held similar attributes. From the moment he met her, he’d been attracted to her sexy legs and beautiful smile. When he’d come to know her, that attraction had morphed into something beyond lust. Something that screamed permanence. Something that scared the hell out of him, but for whatever reason, he refused to walk away from. He wanted Devon. Not just in bed, but in his life.

He passed her front room office, almost as decked out as her workspace at his company, then entered the dining room. An assortment of antique-looking spoons hung on racks on the wall. He wondered about their history, if she’d inherited them or collected them. He also noticed a display of sepia-toned prints showing women dressed in outfits from the ’20s or ’30s. A smile touched his lips.

Maybe for Halloween he’d buy her a real vintage flapper dress, hand-sewn beads and all. He enjoyed being generous and missed purchasing gifts for the woman on his mind. Now he had Devon. Once he’d bought the dress for her, he’d find himself a pinstripe Zoot suit, slick his hair back, and wear a classic fedora. Considering his past, the gangster persona would feel right at home.