style="font-size:15px;"> “Can I come in?”
Only now did she realize they were both standing at the entrance.
She stepped back to usher him in. “Of course.”
Once more he followed her into her office. He glanced around as though he hadn’t been there earlier that very day. “Place looks good. You’ve done well for yourself.”
Not compared to him. After they’d split, he’d become one of the top architects in New York, the go-to guy for bringing faded grandeur back from near death. He was fanatical about reclaiming and modernizing heritage properties and designing new buildings or additions to fit the old neighborhoods. She felt his approval at the way she’d used the best of the old building she occupied while still managing to bring in ultramodern conveniences.
“Do you own the building?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes I do.”
He nodded. “Smart girl.”
“Too smart to be charmed by you.” She sighed. “What do you want, Dex?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his head and her eyes were drawn to the thick, black hair she remembered so well. “I knew this was your outfit, obviously, but I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
“You certainly did surprise me.” But if almost giving her a heart attack was supposed to be fun, she thought she’d pass.
His gray all-seeing eyes locked on hers. “You didn’t tell Sophie about our past.”
“Didn’t seem very good for business to bring up my divorce when the woman’s here to plan a wedding.” She shot him a glance. “Did you tell her?”
“No.” He picked up her gold Montblanc pen off the desk, ran his thumbnail over the monogram. “I decided to leave it to you.” He’d given her that pen back in happier times, and now she was annoyed with herself for her sentimentality in using the damn thing every day.
“So, we don’t tell the lucky couple that their wedding planner and his best man used to be married?”
“No, I guess not.”
“And that we hate each other?”
He put down the pen, straightened to his full six feet and looked down at her. “I never hated you. That’s your department.”
A moment passed and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out that she missed him. Instead she said, “Why are you here, Dex? I mean, in the city. You work in New York now.”
“I do. But I’m quoting on a project here in Philadelphia. A grand old structure that’s been a home, a warehouse and a boardinghouse, to name a few.” Enthusiasm lit up his eyes. “She’s a tired old girl, but with amazing bone structure. The best of the original architectural features are intact and the client wants to work with them, while bringing the building up to date. It’s going to be a boutique hotel and retail combination.”
“Sounds amazing, and right up your alley.”
“It is. I really want this one. And if it works out, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“Helping Sophie and Andrew plan their wedding.”
He looked so sincere, so good, so sexy that for a moment she forgot the reason she’d divorced him. The five-foot-ten blonde goddess she’d found half dressed and wrapped around her husband. The saddest aspect of that fiasco was that on some level she’d noted that Dexter and the former model had looked natural together, two tall, glamorous super-people.
“You’re good at planning weddings, not so good at staying faithful once you’re in one.” Her venom seemed to curdle the air.
“Like I said, hate was always your department.”
“Well, I got over it.” With a lot of tearful sessions with her girlfriends and some rather expensive ones with a therapist. “Now I’ve accepted that our marriage was a mistake.”
“You sure didn’t fight for it.”
The old, familiar anger began to surge inside her but she bit her tongue and counted to ten. Then eleven. Finally twelve before she felt calm enough to speak.
“Why would I fight to keep an unfaithful husband?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know why I bother, but I am telling you again that I never had sex with that woman. She was drunk and crazy.”
“Didn’t look like you were trying very hard to peel her off you.”
“Believe me, I was, and I could have used your help that night instead of having you turn tail and abandon me.”
Oh, how she wished she could believe him, could have believed him six years ago when it had happened. But she didn’t believe him, and couldn’t imagine living with a man who thought so little of her that he’d betray her like that.
“I guess maybe we were wrong about each other.”
“I guess so.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned against her desk, looking ridiculously masculine against the feminine lines of the furniture; it appeared as though the wood might snap from the weight of him leaning on it. But like her, the piece was stronger than it looked. “You’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”
She snorted. “Oh, please.”
“Or maybe it was us together. I miss a lot of things about you, but mostly I miss you in my bed.” He looked at her with such intensity that she felt her blood begin to pound. Of course she remembered. When she wasn’t cursing the man for his faithlessness she spent more time than she should cursing him for giving her the kind of sex that she’d never found before or since. Soul-scorching, sometimes tender, sometimes dirty but always intimate. She was secretly pleased that he hadn’t found that again either. Or so he said. But then maybe that was another line in the player’s handbook. How would she know?
She forced herself to meet his gaze coolly. Took a deep breath and uttered the biggest lie of her life. “I don’t miss you.”
She should have recalled that nothing ignited Dexter’s competitive instincts like a challenge. She saw heat flash in his eyes, anger and lust and a mix of emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.
One second he stood there before her and the next he was pulling her to him, crushing his mouth against hers so fast that she couldn’t have moved away if she’d tried. She uttered a muffled protest, squirmed against him and then as the inevitable tide of heat swamped her, found herself melting into that oh, so familiar embrace.
The initial hardness of his kiss softened and he began to play with her, igniting all her responses until she was crazy with pent-up lust and a need so strong she couldn’t begin to stifle it. She was so weak-kneed she clung to him, responding wildly, mindlessly.
Every part of her ached and burned and throbbed. If he threw her down
