The Pride of Jared MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 2)

He'd wondered what he would find here. From the moment she stood, clumps of flowers at her feet, and looked at him, he'd wondered. Now he knew there was strength in those long, lovely arms, fire in that soft, full mouth. She opened for him as if he'd touched her hundreds of times, and her taste was gloriously familiar. The press of her body against his, every firm, generous curve, was an erotic homecoming.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, slowly tugging her head back to savor. And as her mouth moved warm on his, he discovered what it was to be savored in turn.

Gradually, thoughtfully, he drew back to study her face. Her eyes were steady, calm. Darker, yes, he mused. He knew by the way her heart had jumped against his that whatever had moved through him had moved through her, as well. But she didn't tremble.

What would it take to make a woman like this tremble?

He knew he would have to discover that secret, and all the others she kept hidden behind those dark, unreadable eyes.

"But," he said, "I can certainly recommend a lawyer for you, if you find you need one."

She lifted a brow. Oh, he was a cool one, she thought, carrying on the conversation as if her in-sides weren't sizzling. Appreciating it, she smiled. "Why, thank you."

"Excuse me a minute," he said when his phone rang. "Yes, Sissy." His gaze left Savannah's only long enough for a glance at his watch. "So it is," he murmured, noting that it was just after five. "You go ahead, I'll lock up. And, Sissy, the letter I dictated this morning. The first letter? Yes. Don't mail that. I need to make some changes."

Savannah watched him consideringly. He was sending his secretary off for the day, and they would be alone. She understood what it meant when a man looked at a woman the way Jared was looking at her. She understood what happened between men and women after they'd shared a mutually lusty kiss.

Over the years, she'd learned to be very careful, very... selective. The responsibility of raising a child alone wasn't a small one. Men could come and go, but her son was forever. She wasn't a woman who stepped blindly into affairs, who scratched every itch or accepted every advance.

But she was also realistic. The man currently dismissing his secretary, the man flipping through his daily calendar to coordinate his schedule, was about to become her lover.

"My secretary's got a date," Jared commented when he hung up the phone. "So it looks like we're closing the office on time today." Tilting his head, he studied Savannah. "I'm supposed to ask you, discreetly, where you got your jacket."

"My jacket?" Bemused, Savannah glanced down. "I made it."

"You're kidding."

Her bottom lip moved into an expression somewhere between a pout and a sneer, and her chin rose in a gesture he now recognized as an indicator of temper simmering. "What? I don't look like the type who can sew? I don't fit the happy-homemaker image?"

Intrigued, he rested a hip on the edge of his desk, reached out to rub the brilliantly hued lapel of her jacket between his fingers. "Nice work. What else can you do?"

"Whatever I need to do." She didn't bother to protest when he tugged her toward him. Instead, she rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned down into the kiss.

"It's early," he murmured.

"Relatively."

"Where's Bryan?"

"At Cassie's." Mildly surprised he'd bothered to ask, she changed the angle of the kiss and let herself sink in. "I'm going to pick him up about six. I've got about a half an hour."

"It's going to take longer." He shifted, took her by the hips and drew her intimately between his legs. "Why don't you call her and see if he can stay until seven?" His teeth nipped gently over that lovely bottom lip. "Seven-thirty."

She was going to enjoy getting him out of that tie, Savannah thought. "I suppose I could."

"Good. You clear it, then we'll go across the street."

"Across the street?"

"For an early dinner."

She drew back, stared at him. "Dinner?"

"Yes." Almost certain his legs would support him, Jared stood, before he could give in to the urge to tear off her clothes, drag her to the floor and have her. "I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Why?"

"Because I'd enjoy spending an hour or two with you." On top of you, he thought. Inside you. God. With every appearance of calm, he skirted the desk and flipped through his address file. "Here's Cassie's number."