"Right."
She scoffed. "That's ridiculous. That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. People who are dating have sex, Tom. It's the most important part of a relationship!"
"No." He breathed deeply. "Every relationship you've had, every one I've had, has been based on sex. That's all you and I give—well, that plus expensive gifts. I want more."
"How much more do you think there is?"
"I don't know. I've never been in a position to find out."
"Then let me tell you. There is no more with me. No hearts and flowers, no commitment, no marriage, no love, no nothing. Sex is all I give any man. It's all I'm offering you."
"I don't want it," he lied. "Not yet, at least."
She was silent for so long he might have thought she'd hung up if not for the agitated tapping of a fingernail against a hard surface. After a deep exhalation, she said, "This is ridiculous."
"You said that already."
"You want to go out with me, spend time with me, get to know me, but you don't want to have sex with me?"
"I didn't say I didn't want sex. I do. But just once I'd like to know a little more about a woman than just her name before I find myself waking up beside her. Just once—" He broke off, swallowed. He wasn't a sentimental man, but he remembered when sex was harder to come by, when it was more than just a physical act between two interchangeable adults. More important. More satisfying. "Just once I'd like to think it meant something."
While he spoke, the fingernail tapping slowed, then stopped. After another brief silence, she said, "All right. We'll get acquainted. We'll date. But I won't give up the idea of seducing you."
"And I won't give up saying no," he agreed, then added, "At least, not until the time is right."
Her laugh was shaky, her tone sarcastic. "So how do we start this? When? Where?"
"I'll be back in Bethlehem tomorrow. Maybe we could have dinner."
"Oh, gee, you sound so enthusiastic."
He grimaced. "Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night, Holly?"
"I suppose so."
"Talk about enthusiastic…"
"Oh, yes, Tom," she said in a sultry voice. "I'd love to have dinner with you tomorrow night. I can't think of a single thing in the world I'd rather do more. Thank you so much for asking me. I'm just so flattered."
"Knock it off," he said with a chuckle. "I've got a meeting with Ross as soon as I get into town. Should I call you to set a time?"
"Sure. Whenever you get a chance. But don't think because I've agreed to this ridiculous suggestion I'm going to change my mind about marrying you. We'll tell everyone it was a mistake. You'd had too much wine and it went to your head."
"Is that my cue to say it wasn't the wine that went to my head but you?"
"No, that's your cue to agree there'll be no further talk of marriage."
Since there was no way in hell he was going to agree to that, he ignored it and said quietly, "See you tomorrow, Holly."
* * *
Bethlehem Memorial Hospital wasn't one of Holly's favorite places, but that wasn't enough to keep her away Monday afternoon. She'd called J.D. Grayson's office earlier and was told he would be free at four o'clock, and the open door signified as much. The sounds coming from inside, though, suggested different.
She stopped in the doorway, folding her arms across her chest, and watched the scene. Gracie, J.D.'s six-year-old adopted daughter, was sitting on his lap at the desk and reading aloud from a kids' book, while his four other kids filled him in on the day's events. It was thirteen-year-old Caleb who noticed Holly first.
"Dad, you got company … or your next patient."
"Next patient, huh?" Holly mussed his hair as she entered the office. "I'll make you somecould's patient, young man. Hey, Graysons and Brown-Graysons."
"Miss Holly, I can read. Wanna hear 'bout Harry?" Gracie asked.
"I don't know. Who is this Harry? Is he single? Old enough for me to date?"
Gracie giggled as her year-older brother, Noah, rolled his eyes. "Harry's a little boy, like me."
"Well, are you old enough for me to date?"
He considered it thoughtfully, but it was Jacob who replied. "Pro'bly. But he has to be in bed by eight-thirty."
"Well, darlin', I have to be in bed not long after. We'll see what we can arrange."
J.D. lifted Gracie to the floor, then pulled some money from his pocket. "Trey, Caleb, can you take the kids to the gift shop and get them a candy bar, then wait for your mother in the lobby?"
"Sure," Trey replied, swinging Gracie up for a piggyback ride. He was a good-looking kid, bearing a strong resemblance to his father. Caleb was good-looking, too. Both were destined to be heartbreakers.
Once they left, J.D. closed the door, then touched Holly's shoulder as he returned to his desk. It was a simple touch, one good friend greeting another. And J.D. was a good friend. For a very short while, they'd been more … or was it less? They'd shared a few good laughs, a few great nights, then put an end to a relationship that wasn't meant to be. Since then, he'd become one of her best friends.
He leaned back in his chair, studied her for a moment, then asked, "Well, which are you today? Company or a new patient?"
"Is that your not-so-subtle way of saying I need therapy?"
"I don't know. Depends on whether the rumors are true."
Holly groaned and hid her face in both hands. "I am not getting married."
"But Tom proposed."
It pained her—actually pained her—to admit it. "Yes, but…" But what? He didn't mean it? Was that what she was afraid of? Or was she afraid that he did mean it? That he honestly did want to marry her?
Just thinking about it made her stomach hurt, and she was filled with relief when J.D. changed the subject to her other current problem.
"How is your mother?"
Holly shrugged. "Subdued. Embarrassed. Trying to cut back on the booze. It'll last for a few days, and then life will get to be too much for her again. Someone will look at her the wrong way or speak to her in the wrong tone of voice, or the sun won't shine as brightly as she wants, or she'll find a scuff on her shoe."
"Alcoholics aren't very sympathetic people, are they?"
His rueful look made her feel guilty and insensitive. "At least you had a real reason to drink, J.D. You dealt with kids who'd suffered horrific trauma. You had something to escape. You know what she was escaping? Her dreary existence in a town she detested."
"Holly, it doesn't matter what an alcoholic is trying to escape. What matters is that she, or he, feels the need to escape. Your mother's problems might not seem like much to you, but they're more than she can handle—or more than she believes she can handle—on her own."
"Well, she's definitely more than I can handle on my own." Deliberately Holly turned to something more pleasant. "How's Kelsey?"
"Fine. Anxious for the big day to arrive. She says she feels like a beached whale."
"And do you tell her she's never looked lovelier?"
"Of course."
Holly gave a shake of her head. "Six kids. If I'd thought for a second when I met you that you'd have five kids and one more on the way, I never would have gotten near you."
"Aw, but look what you would have missed out on. So…" His expression said, End of reprieve. "What do you think about Tom's proposal?"
"I think the man's crazy. No, wait, let me rephrase that. I thought the man was crazy. After the talk we had last night, I know it."
J.D. silently waited for her to continue. It was part of what made him a good psychiatrist—part of what made him such a good friend. He genuinely listened, and genuinely cared, and he usually offered good advice.
"He said he wanted to marry me because I'm not after his money. Isn't that the stupidest reason to get married you ever heard?"
"No, not at all. It's just another way of saying he wants to be wanted for himself and not his millions. Isn't that all any of us wants?"
Because it made sense
the way J.D. put it, Holly ignored it. "I told him he didn't know me well enough to want to marry me, and he said we could get acquainted. You know, date."
"And the problem with that is…?"
"No sex." When his expression remained unenlightened, she scowled. "Tom's insisting on no sex. He's a perfectly healthy man who's asking to spend time with me, the queen of one-night stands, and he doesn't want to have sex—which I suppose proves he's not normal at all, doesn't it?"
J.D. laughed. Wasn't it a big no-no for a shrink to laugh at his patient? she wondered crossly. "Gee, Holly, let's think about it. The man wants to get to know you better before he makes love with you. And you think that makes him abnormal?"
"In my experience, yes. Most men only want the sex. They don't want to get to know me at all."
"Do you really believe that?"
She had no reason to believe anything else. How many men had told her they would call back but never had? How many dates had taken her to a restaurant dinner, a concert, a weekend in the city, and in exchange, got lucky, as Margery had described it. "Even you had trouble remembering my name after the deed was done," she reminded him. "You called me Molly."
His grin faded into utter seriousness. "You were the first for me, you know, after Carol Ann died, losing Trey, and getting sober. It was a hell of a welcome back to life, and I don't remember if I ever thanked you for it."
Her cheeks flushed. "That's me. Holly, giver of great sex."
"That's why this celibate-dating thing frightens you, isn't it? Because Tom wants more than just your could. He wants the intimacy to mean something."
"And I don't want intimacy at all."
"I don't believe that, Holly. You're a caring woman. You're the best friend any of us could have. You help anyone who needs it. You're even good to the kids, despite your insistence that you don't like the little monsters. I don't believe you have none of these warm feelings for the men you date."
"Well, doc, everyone has to be wrong once in a while, and today's your day. Friends, women, kids, and strays are a whole different breed from the men I go to bed with."
"What are you afraid of? Getting hurt? Getting your heart broken? Hurts heal, you know, and broken hearts get mended."
It was Holly's turn to laugh. "Ah, J.D., you've gone soft. That's one of the problems with people who are disgustingly, happily in love. You lose touch with the real world."
"Honey, I live in a three-bedroom house with my pregnant wife, five kids, two dogs, six cats, and my father. Don't talk to me about the real world." After a brief silence, he asked, "When are you seeing him again?"
"This evening. He's in a meeting with Ross. We're having dinner when it's over."
"A real date," J.D. remarked in a teasing voice. "Dinner, conversation, a kiss on the cheek, and a goodbye at the door when the evening's over."
Holly thought of her weekend in Buffalo, when Tom had almost kissed her at her hotel-room door before saying good night. A real kiss couldn't have been any sweeter … though the ones Saturday night had been pretty damn special, too.
And kisses were all she was ever going to get if Tom had his way. He was determined to not have sex with her until… How had he put it? The time was right. And, considering he'd begun the entire discussion with a marriage proposal, it was a pretty good bet that the time wouldn't be right until she had his wedding ring on her finger. Since that was never going to happen…
Slowly she smiled. She had accepted his dating idea with a condition of her own—that she could still try to seduce him. He might be determined as hell … but she knew little tricks that would turn him inside out, upside down, and leave him begging for more.
If Tom Flynn wanted another challenge now that he'd met all his previous ones, she would be happy to give him one.
* * *
It was a few minutes before six when Tom walked out of the main headquarters of McKinney Industries. The office complex, designed to blend in with the local architecture, looked like a small, prosperous college campus. The stone and brick buildings looked as if they'd been there for fifty years or more. Not one was taller than three stories, and the setting had been worked with and around to preserve as much of the surrounding forest as possible.
The security lights were on, illuminating the sidewalks that crisscrossed from building to building to parking lot. Except for the guards, he was the last employee to leave for the day. When they had been located in Buffalo, people had thought nothing of working ninety-hour weeks, including Ross. They now called it quits after forty hours, they now had lives. Productivity was up, so were employee satisfaction and profits.
Out of the large group who had lived, eaten, and breathed work, only Tom continued to do so. And he was tired of it, he thought as he drove the company car to the inn. He'd called Holly that afternoon and made arrangements to pick her up at seven. That would give him time to shower and shave—and find some new reserves of control.
He hadn't seen her since Saturday night, when she'd fled after his proposal, and last night's phone conversation had stripped away any remaining illusions he might have had that this courtship was going to be simple in any way. They were both strong-willed people accustomed to getting what they wanted, and now what each of them wanted was directly opposed to what the other was after.
Well, not completely. She wanted sex, and damned if he didn't, too. He'd fallen asleep last night thinking about her, and he'd awakened not long after, his skin slick with sweat, his breathing ragged, and so damn hard that it hurt. If she had any idea he'd been having erotic dreams about her, the contest would be over. She would win, but in the long run her victory could cost them both something special. Something they'd never had before. Something he wanted far more than just sex.
At the inn, he checked into his suite, showered, shaved, and dressed, when a knock sounded. He opened the door and, with the force of a punch in the gut, caught his breath.
Holly stood there looking sexy as hell, wearing a sultry smile and one of those snug-fitting dresses to which she did such justice. This one was purple, and it clung everywhere it touched. He could hardly swallow as his gaze moved down over the silky fabric covering rounded breasts, narrow waist, and shapely hips, to the best legs he'd ever seen, and finally to a pair of three-inch heels, all straps, insubstantial but sexy as hell.
This wasn't a woman dressed for a quiet dinner out. This was a declaration of war.
When he did nothing but stare, her smile widened. "I thought I'd save you the trouble of coming around back to pick me up," she said, coming closer to him, easing past to enter the sitting room. Her voice was husky, and the lazy, languid way she moved promised sweet heaven.
And it was all calculated. This was Holly playing the vamp, the incredibly sexual being who'd brought plenty of men to their knees. Knowing that helped. His chest was still tight, his hand would probably tremble if he ever let go of the doorknob, and he half expected steam to start rising from his pores, but it helped.
"It would—" He stopped to clear his throat and steady his voice. "It wouldn't have been any trouble at all. Shall we go?"
Standing in the middle of the room, she opened her arms to encompass it—or to give him an even better look at how the dress molded to her could. "One phone call, and I can have the best food in town served right here."
"Oh, gee, and for dessert, we could just go into the next room and feast on each other," he said, grateful he could manage dryness when all he was thinking was how appealing that sounded.
"Well, now that you've suggested it…"
He let go of the doorknob, flexed his fingers, and took hold of her arm. "Okay, you've proven you're beautiful and sexy and I want you. Now let's get some dinner and see if we can figure out how this dating thing works."
She didn't reply to his dating comment until they were seated in a booth at McCauley's, Bethlehem's only steak house. "I can tell you exactly how this dating thing works. You ask, I accept. We go out, you spend money, we go back to my place, an
d I thank you for it."
"So are we trading services, or am I buying yours? Because if that's the case, you're selling yourself cheap." He ignored the tightening around her mouth and the glitter that came into her hazel eyes. "I figure the cost of this dinner ought to get me about an hour of your time, and nothing more."
She was still giving him that hard, annoyed look when the waitress came up. "Good evening, folks. My name's Kate and I'll be— Oh, hi, Holly, Mr. Flynn." When he looked blankly at her, she said, "I work at the inn. My parents own this place and I help out when they're shorthanded. Hey, I understand congratulations are in order."
"No," Holly said curtly. "They're not."
"Not yet," Tom added. "We're in negotiations."
"My dad says you're a tough negotiator," Kate commented. "He owned part of the land you bought for Mr. McKinney's offices."
"I am tough. And I never lose."
Kate took their orders, brought back drinks and a loaf of fresh bread, then left them alone. With very precise movements, Holly cut the end from the loaf, buttered it, then set it down without taking a bite. "For the record, I'm very stubborn."
"Uh-huh."
"I never lose, either. And I always get what I want. I've been called tough, too. If you were offering something I had the slightest desire for, maybe I'd worry, but I've never, ever in my life wanted to get married—not to you or any other man."
"Why is that?"
She shifted on the seat, and the silky purple fabric shifted, too, drawing his gaze downward. Aware of exactly what had caught his attention, she turned on the fake sexy smile and the fake sexy voice. "I have no respect for the institution. Good marriages are hard to find. Bad ones abound. If I want to be miserable, I can be miserable alone, without forcing others to endure it with me."
"So your parents' marriage was miserable. And you're so much like your mother—"
"I am not!"
"Then you're so much like your father…?"
"No," she admitted grudgingly.
"Then why do you assume that because they were unhappily married, you will be, too?"
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