Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

"Wait!" My voice sounds desperate, and I wish I could ask for a do-over. "Would you--I mean, maybe we could grab some dinner later?"

"Dinner?" he repeats as the doors start to close. "Baby, dinner is the last thing on my mind."

THE REST OF THE day I'm too busy to think about Blake. And by the time I head to my car, all I can think is that it's Friday and I can sleep tomorrow.

Which means that when I pass the concrete beam that blocks the view of my car and see Blake, I am totally unprepared.

"You're here," I say stupidly.

He's leaning against my Chevy, looking like he just stepped out of the pages of a men's magazine. "I think you're right."

"Oh. Good." I frown. "About what?"

"Dinner."

"I thought you weren't interested."

"A man has to eat. I need my strength, after all."

"Do you?" A smile tugs at my lips. This is the Blake I remember.

"I certainly hope so. Have dinner with me, Penny. All you have to do is say yes."

"Yes," I say before I can talk myself out of it. Not that I would. The memory of that kiss in the office still lingers.

"Good. And just so we're clear, tonight you belong to me. All night, Penny. Completely and totally mine."

"I--wait. What?"

His eyes rake over me, his expression all power and control. "You heard me."

"That doesn't--"

"Is there someone else?"

"What? No," I say, then immediately fear I've revealed too much.

"Then I don't see any reason for you to hesitate. Unless you'd rather call the whole thing off." He's watching my face. There's humor in his eyes, but also a heat so intense that I'm surprised I don't melt into goo right there.

"Why?" My question is a whisper. A plea.

He steps closer, the air crackling and sizzling between us. "The last time we were together, you said no. This time, I'm not giving you a choice. I'm taking what I want, Pen, and under the circumstances, I think I'm being reasonable. My flight leaves for New York at noon. You're mine until the car service picks me up at nine."

He pulls me toward him until his lips are only millimeters from my cheek. "Those are my terms," he whispers. "Take them or leave them. The choice is yours."

His voice rumbles through me, igniting a bone-deep longing underscored by the frustration of unfulfilled desire. I want to beg for his touch. I want to slap his face. I've never reacted to a man like I do to Blake Thorton, and right then I'm not sure if I should lose myself in the fantasy or run to safety.

"Is this a seduction?" I whisper. "Or is it a punishment?"

He leans away, studying me, his expression a little impressed, a little surprised. Then he reaches out and cups my breast, making me gasp from the shock of his action as well as the electricity of his touch. Slowly, he rubs his thumb over my nipple, now hard under the lace of my bra. "What's the difference?" he asks, and the ache between my legs increases to a needy, desperate throbbing. "You'll come to dinner? You accept my terms?"

I can only nod. Words aren't in the cards right now.

He moves me gently to the side, then opens my car door for me. "In that case, sweetheart, I'll pick you up at eight."

WHEN I GET HOME, there's a package from Blake on my doormat. I have no idea how he got my address, but I'm running late, and I don't have time to give it much thought.

My apartment is tiny, but the price is right, and it's near the beach. And as far as I'm concerned, the only valid reasons to live in LA are to work in the entertainment business or to live by a beach.