Tempt Me, Taste Me, Touch Me

Rose woke as sunlight streamed over her face. Despite having slept for only a few hours, energy coursed through her veins. She as too happy to feel tired. Too filled to the brim with the most wonderful man she'd ever met.

She'd never had the nerve to dream this big. Or this good. But Lordy, she might have done something right during her thirty years to deserve this one weekend in heaven. Maybe, if she was i really lucky, a little longer than that. He wanted her to move in i with him. What if she did? As if he felt her admiring gaze, Jack's eyes popped open. "Good morning, gorgeous." A muscled arm looped around her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. "I wish we could spend all day in bed together, but my fans await."

He was such a ham and she giggled, loving how he didn't take himself, or his success, too seriously. "I don't know if there's room for you, me, and your ego in the bed; she teased. But she knew he had a life to live, and a business to run. And now that she'd accepted his feelings for her, she wasn't going to be all clingy and get in the way. "I know you've got to get back to your restaurant'

She sat up in bed, and as the covers fell from her body, his eyes shot to her br**sts. "Nope. I'm supposed to sign cookbooks at the Napa farmer's market. I'd love it if you'd keep me company. Not to mention that 1 have a feeling a gorgeous brunette is going to attract more people over to my table than I could ever hope to do myself."

Rose basked in his compliments, feeling more beautiful than ever. "Sure, that'll be fun. When do we need to be there?" she asked, dreaming of another long, hot bath with Jack.

He looked at the clock and threw the sheet off, giving her the wonderful opportunity to feast her eyes on naked male perfection. "Ten minutes'

Fortunately, she'd thought to pack an extra dress and panties in her over-sized purse. So while Jack pulled on boxers, jeans, and a Hawaiian shirt, she slipped on a strappy pink sundress that Vanessa had assured her made her waist look minuscule. She made a feeble attempt to tame her hair and was brushing her teeth with the spare travel toothbrush she kept in her purse when Jack came in and said, "You're a wonder, prepared for anything."

She shot him a white, foamy grin and shoved him back out into the bedroom before she spat. Five minutes later, they were on their way. Already the two blocks to Main Street were familiar, a fact that warmed her heart d made her feel like a budding local. Jack, of course, was already attracting attention. Could she help it if she had a gorgeous, talented boyfriend?

Rose savored the word "boyfriend" in her head. Nothing could wrong this time. She was sure of it.

JACK ENJOYED COMING OUT to the farmer's market every Sunday. Even if he wasn't signing cookbooks, he liked to check out ,the best local produce and chat with the locals. But he'd never enjoyed himself quite as much as he did today.

With Rose by his side.

As expected, she drew people over to them with her friendly smile and warm glow. There was rarely a break as he signed cookbooks, took pictures with fans, gave culinary tips to budding chefs. Rose was quick with a joke, ready with a smile, and made l:the most nervous person feel comfortable.

He was stroking Rose's back and whispering mischievous suggestions about what he'd like to do to her in his hot tub later that night when a vaguely familiar woman stormed up to them. "Hello, Jack, remember me?" she said, her lipstick a little too bright, her eyes slightly wild.

Oh, no. He did remember her. He'd met her about six months ago, after a night that had made him wonder why he'd ever decided to open a restaurant. The main stove top had been on the fritz, his dishwasher had called in sick, and the customers had , been pickier than three-year-oIds, incapable of ordering anything straight off the menu. With so many substitutions, he might as well have tossed his menu down the disposal. By the end of the night he'd been exhausted, irritated, and desperate to unwind and put the evening behind him. He'd had his bartender pour him a stiff drink. The woman seated next to him had been round and soft and all the things he should have liked, but even before he'd gotten to her hotel room he'd realized she was too brash, too desperate. He'd tried to back out, but he'd been so beaten down by the day that it'd been easier to just do her and leave.

Now, here she was, glaring down at him with a slightly crazy gleam in her eyes. His brain did a frantic scramble for her name.

"Would you like a cookbook?" he asked, trying to figure out a way to get her to leave before Rose figured things out. It wasn't that he wanted to hide anything from her, just that their pasts were better dealt with in a less awkward, less public forum.

"You don't even remember my name, do you?" the woman accused. She shot a venomous glance at Rose and hissed, "We're all the same to you, aren't we?"

Rose's eyes grew big, but she stayed rooted in her seat. "Look-" he began, but the woman cut him off. "I've got you figured out. All you're interested in is taking an innocent tourist back to her hotel room so that you can screw her and forget her' The woman's eyes narrowed. "No wonder why you didn't return any of my phone calls." She turned to Rose. "Don't let him suck you in too. I thought we'd shared a perfect night together, but it was all just lies'

WATCHING THE ANGRY WOMAN was like looking in the mirror. All of Rose's fears, everything she knew to be true about herself, about her life and what it could be, came back in a rush. She found her limbs moving, making her stand up. She bent to pick up her purse from the patch of dirt next to her chair, but she was hardly cognizant of what she was doing. Her blood felt like slick sludge as it continued to circulate through her, her movements robotic and off. . "Rose' Jack said, turning away from the next person in line, shielding her face from their prying stares. "I'm sorry that happened:'

Jack's face swam before her eyes, transforming into the face of every ex-boyfriend who'd ever told her to lose weight, who'd endured what she'd done to him in the sack but not enough to forgo twig of a woman at the altar. She'd believed he was different. God, she'd been so stupid. He was probably one of those guys who jacked off over dirty magazines with pictures of big girls. She was exactly like that woman. The one whose name he'd forgotten after one perfect night. Another overweight nobody from Francisco for him to get his rocks off with.

"It's not you' she said in a dull voice. "It's me'

She was desperate to leave him before she let herself cry in front of him. She picked up her bag, holding it close against her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. Not when a small, pathetic voice in her head was whispering, "Maybe he'll beg you to stay. Then everything will be all right."