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“Maybe.” She didn’t want to have this discussion with Owen. He must realize that she was only seeing him for the amazing sex. She had been thinking of starting something a bit more long term initially, but then that pregnant groupie had shown up, and it had been quite an awakening for Caitlyn. The guy was a seasoned player, and she’d just entered the field as a rookie. If Owen brought up something like having kids again, she’d have to set him straight. She’d been warned about how easily he got his feelings hurt, so she hoped he caught on without her having to tell him point blank that she had no plans to get serious about him. “Have you had lunch?” she asked.

His eyes lit up with interest. “Not yet. Did you cook?”

She laughed. Her cook? Yeah, no. “I don’t cook much”—or ever—“but I am an expert at opening a takeout container.”

He was pretty good at hiding his disappointment. “I could eat,” he said. “Thanks.”

He kissed her again and pulled out, putting far too much space between them. She stumbled as she got her feet beneath her. Sort of. She definitely wasn’t accustomed to the kind of aerobics she’d just experienced. Her thighs were all shaky as she bent to retrieve her panties.

“So do you often open the door in the nude?” Owen asked.

She grinned. “Only if I’m hoping to get laid.”

“Lucky me.” He removed the condom she hadn’t realized he’d applied and tied the open end into a knot.

“D-d-did you put that thing on in the car?” she sputtered.

He laughed as he tucked his cock into his pants and fastened his fly. “No, but I did open the package before I put it in my pocket. I hoped I’d need it upon arrival.”

“So I guess opening the door in nothing but my panties was predictable?” They had been talking about how horny they both were for days, but they hadn’t even made it out of the foyer.

“Appreciated,” he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder. “You know, we could skip lunch and head directly to the bedroom.”

“We’re saving the bedroom for last.” With her most mischievous smile, she turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder to see if he was following. She wasn’t used to being a seductress, or even trying to be one, but she had a rich imagination and a long, detailed list of fantasies she wanted Owen to fulfill. She’d already set up each room of the house to accommodate a different sex act. She wondered, belatedly, if he’d find that odd.

She smiled to herself when his footsteps padded first against the marble and then the dark hardwood floor behind her as she made her way through the great room to the kitchen. She didn’t look at the box on the coffee table as she passed, not wanting to draw his attention to it before the time was right.

“What do you mean, save the bedroom for last?”

“Considering it’s the only room in this house where I ever had sex with my husband, I thought we’d save it for last. It’s a big house, a clean house, and all the rooms could use a little dirtying.”

“I do like the way you think.”

She stopped at the counter and began to pull out the takeout containers from the bag she’d picked up from the deli on her way home from the sex shop she’d visited that morning. Not many locals went to sex shops at ten a.m., so she’d practically had the place to herself.

“I can’t decide if I’d rather look at your tits or hold them,” he said, leaning against the counter beside her. He was no longer focused on her eyes—not even close—and while she might despise and fight sexism at work on a daily basis, when she was in her own home, with this man? She wasn’t fighting in the least. She liked that he looked at her as a desirable woman. Liked the way his tongue wet the corner of his mouth as if he were imagining her nipple between his lips.

“Can’t you do both at the same time?” she asked. “I do have two of them.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I think that would result in sensory overload.”

His befuddled grin made her laugh. “Maybe I should put on some clothes.”

“I do feel overdressed,” he said, but instead of encouraging her to cover up, he stripped down to his boxers.

She allowed her eyes to feast on his broad shoulders, firm chest, ripped stomach, and the devastating vee that drew her gaze from his narrow hips before unfortunately disappearing into his shorts.

“Still overdressed,” she murmured, hoping he’d take a hint.

He slowly tugged his boxers lower, showing more vee and a hint of the root of his cock. Just a tease. Just enough to remind her how glad she was he’d come to visit.

“Enough?” he asked. She tore her gaze from his semi-peepshow to meet the challenge in his gorgeous blue eyes.

“For now,” she said, inclining her head. “I wasn’t sure what you liked—besides pastrami and rye bread—so I got a little of everything.”

She opened the lids on her favorite potato salad and on a variety of pasta salads ranging from creamy to oily to vinegar-based. She pulled out three bean salad and coleslaw, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. Next came the cheese platter, the meat platter, the veggie platter, and the fruit tray, followed by assorted dips and crackers.

“Caitlyn?” he said, his eyes still on her breasts. “Would you be terribly offended if I changed my mind?”

Her heart gave an unpleasant lurch. Was he already tired of looking at her? Jeez. At least it had taken her husband a few years before he’d started ignoring her.

“You don’t want . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it: me?

“I’m hungry for only one thing in this kitchen.”

“Pastrami?” she guessed.

He chuckled. “No, beautiful. Earning my pastrami,” he said. “With you.”

She flushed with pleasure. She hadn’t felt desired in so damned long, but he made her feel desirable, wanted, and beautiful. She did want to spend a little time with him that didn’t involve him buried inside her. Granted, she hoped it was very little time, but still, some.

“I skipped breakfast,” she said. “I’m starving.”

“I had a big breakfast. Homemade.”

Not from a restaurant, a deli counter, or a microwave? “You cook?”

He examined her spread of prepared foods and avoided her gaze. “Some.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t telling her the entire story and knew he was a bad liar, so she rephrased her question. “Did you cook yourself breakfast this morning?”

He reached across the counter and fixed himself a cracker with cheese and summer sausage before stuffing it into his mouth. “Uh, well,” he said, still chewing, “Lindsey cooks, I guess.”

“So Lindsey made you breakfast this morning.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” he said. “She was just being nice because I gave her a place to sleep.”

“At your house,” Caitlyn said flatly. And when he nodded slightly, she added, “I thought you were taking her to a hotel.”

“We got home really late.” He met her eyes steadily. “Nothing happened.”

She wanted to believe him, but the unwelcome vision of her husband fucking some nubile young college student on his desk invaded her thoughts. Lindsey appeared to be both nubile and college-age.

Caitlyn grabbed a paper plate and began filling it with food that no longer looked appetizing.

After a moment, Owen covered her wrist with his warm hand. “Look at me.”

She glanced at him so swiftly, she didn’t even register his expression before turning her attention back to her plate.

“Look at me, Caitlyn.”

She took a steadying breath and forced her eyes to meet his.

“Nothing happened. She slept across the hall in my guest room, and I tossed and turned all night aching with thoughts of you.”

“She’s very pretty.” The image of the gorgeous pregnant blonde clinging to Owen when she floored him with her news was permanently etched in Cai

tlyn’s mind. “And young.”

“But I don’t want her. I want you.” He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She wanted to believe him. She did. But some stupid part of her expected every man to betray her, every man to prefer a young, hot blonde with perfect firm tits and flawless skin. Every man to find her lacking.

“And I’d say it’s only your body I want,” he said, “but that would be a lie.”

She moaned quietly as her body began to throb beneath the light, persistent stroke of his thumb.

“In addition to being beautiful, you’re smart and funny and

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