Well, its late. Id better go.
Yes, I suppose. Sarah answered.
Desire stretched between them like a taut, heavy rope. If either tugged, the other would topple and this farce, this forced politeness, would be over. All she had to do was smile, open the door, let him leave, take two aspirin and retreat to her bed, alone, for twelve more years.
But she couldnt leave it like this.
Alex, arent you going to kiss me good-night?
He took one step toward her. I wouldnt dare kiss you, Sarah. He hesitated for an instant. First date, you know.
But, Alex
His honest admission made the ache in her body more immediate, more demanding than the ache in her heart. She wanted him so desperately, she could barely remember the hurt, the anger, the vows of revenge.
She held out her hand to pull him back into the room. Its not our first date now, is it?
Dear Reader,
Remember that special high school boyfriend? Some of you lucky ladies married him and are still living happily ever after. Some of us lost him to a prettier girl, or said a bittersweet goodbye as we went off in different directions, vowing to be true but quickly finding other boysmen nowand feeling that old flame die.
Then theres Sarah Nevins, beautiful and feisty, whose memories are still feeding the blaze of that first love many years later. He was the one who ended their youthful romantic idyll, and now, out of the blue, hes back, wanting a second chance.
Whats a girl to do? Especially when he plies her with flowers andair conditioners. Its a sizzling summer in New York, and when Sarah and Alex are together, the temperature only rises. The old passion is still there, unabated. All Sarah has to do is forgive him for the past, but can she let go of her need for revenge?
I recommend that you find a cool spot and pour yourself a glass of iced tea before you turn another page of this book. Otherwise, you might find itToo Hot To Handle. Heres wishing you a great summer with lots of time for reading!
Barbara Daly
Books by Barbara Daly
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
859A LONG HOT CHRISTMAS
HARLEQUIN DUETS
13GREAT GENES!
34NEVER SAY NEVER!
69YOU CALL THIS ROMANCE!?
ARE YOU FOR REAL?
Too Hot to Handle
Barbara Daly
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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This book is for my park friends, those intrepid New Yorkers who walk their dogs in Washington Square at seven in the morning, no matter whats going on in the rest of the world or falling out of the clouds above them: Wanda, Gideon and Crissy; Natt and Nickie; Mary Lou and Emily; Mary, Teddy and Jordan; Lynn, Boris and Jenny; Marvin, Ziggy and Miss Daphne; Ann, Pat, Phoebe and Siren; David, Russ and Sally; Marsha and her Emily; Rozanna and the memory of Tara; Susan, first with Jazz and now with Ralph; Holden, Calpurnia, Nina, Lucy, Tiger, the sweet Sheltie, and all their moms and dads; Sandra and Lou, who are actually walking; and Cecily, my excuse for being there; and New York itself, whose special qualities make friendships like ours possible. Bless you, and stay strong.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
1
YOU NEED TO GET LAID.
Dumbfounded, Sarah Nevins stared across her desk at Macon Trent, congenital nerd and, as the guy who kept the computers up and running at Great Graphics! her most essential employee. Otherwise, shed fire him on the spot.
Dont hold back, Macon, she said, forcing her lips into a tight little smile. Just be blunt.
As blunt as you were with Ray just now?
Sarahs steady gaze wavered. What exactly did I say to Ray?
You told him his copy for the RemCom brochure sucked blood from chickens. It was not your usual management style.
Sarah sank her face into her hands. Where is he? I have to apologize.
Hes in the rest room crying.
Okay, as soon as he comes out. She rocked her head from side to side. I dont know what made me do it.
You arent like the Sarah we keep working for in spite of our miserable paychecks. How long has it been since you went out with a man?
Sarah raised her head to glare at him. Macon, thats even worse than asking a woman how much she weighs. He needed contact lenses, a personal shopper and a lengthy session with Miss Manners.
Oh. Thanks for the tip. His reflective pause was brief. I think your last date was about a year and a half ago. With our cardstock salesman. He lifted an eyebrow. Our former cardstock salesman.
She gritted her teeth. Even Miss Manners would find Macon a challenge. I didnt like his yellows. He took it personally.
His other eyebrow winged upward. She gave up the fight. After a deep, mood-changing sigh, she said, Maybe youre right. Maybe I should start looking around for a new relationship. She, at least, had some manners, some delicacy of expression. But she wouldnt be looking for a relationship, shed be looking for a man, somebody to satisfy the needs only a man could satisfy.
Dont do anything foolish.
Do I ever?
Not at the office.
Not anywhere. Ill meet a man through friends, or find a bonded carpenter or plumber. A union man with credentials.
The search and capture wouldnt be too difficult. Her standards were reasonable and easily met. He should be cleandrug-free, disease-free and addicted to daily showers, deodorants and promising toothpastesand lacking a record of abusive behavior. Other than that, almost anyone would do. She wasnt looking for a man to share her dreams, make her rich, raise her consciousness, enhance her knowledge or give her a home and children. Many years ago when she was young and hopeful, shed wanted those things with AlexAlexander Asquith-Emersonand she still felt that if she couldnt have them with him, she didnt want them.
Sarah Macon seemed to gather up something within himself as he leaned forward. These days the world is a dangerous place for women. Maybe I could fill the current void. You and I know and understand each other, and all I feel for you is the deepest respect. No strings. No promises except my promise of total discretion. I could get you over your rough spot.
Today was apparently going to be studded with shocks, so she might as well get used to them. Sarah gazed into his eyes, seeing nothing there but an earnest need to help her out, and as magnified as Macons eyes were behind the Coke-bottle lenses of his glasses, you could pretty much see whatever was there. But hed given her an opening to say something to him shed been wanting to say for a long time, if she could get her mind off her own problems long enough to grasp the opportunity.
Macon, she said with great solemnity, I am deeply flattered by your offer, and Im tempted to accept it. You have no idea how attractive a man you are.
He actually could be, if it werent for those glasses, his depressing sartorial choices and a haircut that looked as if hed done it himself. She rarely noticed Macons looks. She was too dependent on his genius.
Thats what my landlady tells me, Macon admitted. Shes always after me to buy clothes, get a better barber.
Any barber. Listen to her, Sarah said. A few outside changes would give you self-confidence. Personally, Im extremely fond of you just as you are. But I have made a vow not to have sex with my professional colleagues. You saw what happened with the cardstock salesman. When I rejected his yellows, I lost his reds, the best reds on the market. She sighed, still stung by the loss. Most people have a religion to guide them, she added for good measure. Thats mine.
Macon nodded, apparently not at all hurt by her refusal. Its one of the things I respect you for. Just thought Id make the offer. Save you time and hassle.
I really appreciate it, but you deserve something more.
Oh, come on, Sarah.
Im serious about this. And what I want you to do She got up, came around the desk and sat on the arm of his chair. What I want you to do, she repeated softly, is go out and find someone who will love you romantically as much as I love you as a friend and colleague. Somebody who will appreciate all those qualities that make me love you. Maybe even she put her hand under his chin and tilted his head up until his eyes goggled directly into hers maybe even somebody who wants strings, something permanent.
She had him mesmerized. His lips parted. Why are you so sure you dont want something permanent yourself?
She let go of his chin and stood up. Hed surprised her again. She felt uneasy, fidgety. Maybe I just cant see past you, she said in a sexy growl he couldnt possibly take seriously.
In fact, he laughed. Okay, okay, he said. Just He was grave again. Just be careful, okay?
Absolutely. But not in the way he imagined. She had no fear for her physical safety. All she had to protect was her heart.
THE NEXT MORNING was no different from the last month of mornings. Sarah woke up hot and restless, exhausted from fighting her way through dreams that swirled her into a spiral of desire, then left her floating in limbo, just short of reaching the pinnacle of release. The sheets were damp and tangled. Her nightgown, nothing more than a cream silk slip, felt clammy as she shrugged the slender straps off her shoulders and let it fall to the bathroom floor.
In the shower, she moved the faucet from hot to warm to cool. As she ran nervous fingers through her damp hair, feeling the curls spring up with a life of their own, she felt fresher, but not better. The heavy, swollen sensation persisted, making her feel dull and lethargic.
Coffee should help.
It didnt.
Clothes. Sarah reached into the sea of black that filled most of her closet and drew out a pair of slim capri pants, a tiny, tight tank top and a jacket that looked as though someone had shrunk it, as it was short in the sleeves and short in length.
She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, her mood darkening. What she needed was a splash of bright color. She exchanged the black pants for an identical pair of khaki-colored capris and took a second look at herself. Yes. Very jolly. Practically festive for downtown Manhattan.
She put large gold hoops in her ears and her entire collection of gold bangles on her right arm. They clanked dully in rhythm with her black mules as she traveled the crumbling, tip-tilted New York sidewalkshalf of the long crosstown block to Sixth Avenue, then a dozen short blocks uptownto her office in Chelsea. While she walked, she faced up to her problem.
Those bothersome dreams hadnt been wild and crazy fantasies. Theyd been wild and crazy memories, memories of Alex.
Macon was all too right. It was once again time to find a man to dull those memories.
Just a man, that was all she needed. Shed start looking for prospects this very weekend. She only hoped her staff wouldnt move on to greener salaries before she found one.
ALEX EMERSON STROLLED aimlessly north through Soho after lunch in Tribeca, crossed Houston and made his way up to Washington Square. Encouraged by the warmth of mid-May, joggers trotted around the perimeter of the park and dog owners ignored the No Dogs Allowed signs to toss Frisbees to ecstatic black Labs and golden retrievers. In the center of the park near the fountain, hot-dog vendors were doing a land-office business.
The hot dogs smelled great, but hed already eaten a couple of times today and would have to eat a couple of times more. He had several hours between the long but productive business lunch at Arqua, which hed just left, and drinks at the Plazas Oak Bar with yet another set of potential investors in the venture capital company he ran out of San Francisco. Drinks would be followed by a long, expensive and, he hoped, even more productive business dinner in a quiet corner of the elegant restaurant Jean-Georges near Lincoln Center.
Doing business was a fine way to spend a spring Saturday as far as Alex was concerned. Work was the only arena in which he felt comfortable. When he was at home in San Francisco he worked. When he traveled to New York or London or Taipei, he also worked. It was only during the little breaks between work that he felt on edge, jittery, bothered, too aware of the needs of his body and the permanent sense of loss in his heart.
Walking helped a little. Running would have helped more, but it would have meant two additional clothes changes and a shower before his five oclock appointment. Too much time wasted. Suddenly bored with greenery, he headed west on Waverly Place toward the untidy bustle of Sixth Avenue. A couple of blocks north he crossed the street to get a closer look at the library, then went to the corner to wait for the walk light.