mouth was warm, all-encompassing and incredibly sweet. She remembered those lips, the feel of them against her own. But when his tongue tentatively glided across her lips, then into the recesses of her mouth, she began to shake and he held her—held her firmly against him and she felt his longing, his need press hard and heavy between her thighs.
Her thoughts spun in a million directions at once, then crashed.
She pulled away, turned her head and stumbled back. “I can’t do this.” She shook her head.
He reached for her but she held up her hand to stop him.
“Don’t.”
Michael stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She dared to look at him. All she saw was longing and sincerity in his expression.
Michael exhaled. “Can we start over?”
She sat down before she fell down and clasped her hands together atop her weak knees to keep them from shaking.
What she wanted to do was run as far as she could. But she couldn’t do that and she couldn’t alienate him. She needed to get inside his business, inside his life. But what was she willing to do to accomplish that?
Mia forced a tight smile. “Sure.”
Michael seemed to sigh in relief. “Great. And to show you I really mean it, I’m gonna sit right here and not move a muscle until you’re ready to go.” He sat down on the lounger, folded his hands, pressed his knees together and plastered a contrite look on his face. The visual effect was hysterical and Mia burst out laughing.
Michael grinned. “That’s how I like to see you, with that pretty smile on your face.”
Mia smothered the rest of her giggles. “Can we talk about business now?”
Michael leaned back, then stretched out on the chaise longue. “Absolutely.” He gave her the Reader’s Digest version of Raven, the star he was hired to debut. She was nineteen for the public, but she was really twenty-two. Great voice, painfully shy, inked a major deal with Atlantic Records and her CD was scheduled to “drop” in two months. All the industry execs were to be invited, the cable stations, media and selected guests.
“Sounds simple enough. So why do I hear a but in there somewhere?”
“Our star doesn’t want to do it.”
“Oh…Why?”
“As I said, she’s incredibly shy. She just wants to make music. So even though the studio wants a blowout event, we…you still need to make it feel intimate, so that our star doesn’t freak out.”
Mia nodded.
“Venue and setting are going to be crucial to make all parties concerned happy.”
“Do you have a date in mind?”
“Three weeks.”
Mia’s eyes widened.
He shrugged. “My hands are tied on that one.” He waited a beat. “You still want to do it?”
“Sure. I’ll make it happen. No problem.”
“Great. I’ll have Brenda put all the information together for you and have it sent to your office.”
She needed to get inside his office. “Hmm. I can pick it up. I’d like to see where you work.”
He grinned. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Tomorrow.”
“A lady who doesn’t waste time.”
“As you said, no time like the present.”
He put his feet on the floor and stood up. “Let me show you the rest of the house.” He extended his hand to help her up.
“How long have you had this place?” she asked as he guided her with a hand at the small of her back to the kitchen.
“I was having it built when we were together. It was going to be my big surprise.”
What! Her stomach did a somersault. He’d never said a word.
Michael turned on the light and the magnificent kitchen was suffused in soft track lighting. Racks of stainless-steel pots hung from the ceiling. And in sharp contrast to the modern feel of the living room, the kitchen was pure country. Glass-paneled French doors led to the back and would undoubtedly provide great lighting. Oak covered the floors and they gleamed. Freestanding hutches and corner cupboards provided plenty of storage space. A huge oak island sat in the center of the enormous kitchen and this is where the modern came in. Somehow, Michael had managed to have a wok, a grill and running water built into the island. A table for four was placed near the French doors and the open-faced cabinetry exhibited a chef’s dream of condiments, pastas and spices. Another extraordinary touch was the restaurant-size refrigerator/freezer and built-in range. The meals she could fix in this space, she thought.
“I had you in mind when I had the kitchen done,” he said softly, stepping up behind her.
She spun toward him, nearly colliding with him he was so close. She took a step back and drew in a sharp breath.
He angled his head to the side. “Maybe you’d like to come up one weekend and try out some of the stuff.”
Mia swallowed over the knot in her throat. She turned away. “What about the rest of the house?” she said instead of responding to his offer.
“This way.” He led her to the connecting room, which was the formal dining room. Then onto a small home theater that sat at least fifteen.
He opened another door. “I work in here whenever I come up for the weekend.”
The room had two computers, shelves of books, a fax, a phone and what appeared to be a scanner.
“How often is that?”
He closed the door. “At least twice a month.”
She made a mental note. “I see you still keep your computers on even when you’re not using them.”
“Old habits, I guess. Back here are the two guest rooms, and baths.” He flung open two doors that were side by side. “This is the master bedroom.” He opened the door.
It was totally Michael. Rich, lush, completely masculine with bold browns and bronzes, a king-size bed and a television that was almost as big. She glanced across the room and was stunned to see a framed photograph of the two of them on the dresser.
She remembered the day they’d taken it. It was the week before Christmas and the first snow had fallen. Michael had gotten tickets to see The Nutcracker at Radio City Music Hall. When they came out, a photographer who was hawking his wares offered to take their picture. She was staring up into his eyes with a bold smile and his look showed total adoration.
“We were happy,” he said gently.
She
