Page 27 of Kiss Me Forever

"All I need you to do is smile and tell her nothing. Hopefully, she'll get frustrated and give up."

Mick smiled. "And here I thought you'd forgotten how to be optimistic."

He reluctantly smiled back. "I thought I'd forgotten, too."

"When do you see her again?"

"Tonight. I'm taking her to a party. There will be lots of people around and no chance for private conversation." He paused, wondering why that didn't sound quite so appealing anymore. "At any rate, tonight should not be a problem."

* * *

Andrea was wrestling with a stubborn zipper on the back of her emerald green cocktail dress when the doorbell rang. Swearing under her breath, she gave the zipper another impatient tug, glaring at her expression in the mirror. The dress clung to her body like a second skin, and her blond hair tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of waves. She was actually a little amazed by her image. She looked downright sexy—like a party girl, a woman on a date, not a reporter on assignment. But she could hardly go to a cocktail party in her work clothes, and it was too late to change anyway.

The doorbell rang again, reminding her that there was no time for second thoughts. With one arm holding the back of her dress together, she stalked to the front door and threw it open, glaring at the man in the hallway.

"You're early," she said.

Alex raised one eyebrow and then consulted his Rolex watch. "Two minutes late, actually."

She let out a heavy sigh and stood back. "You might as well come in."

"Thank you. What's wrong?"

"My zipper is stuck."

"Let me help."

She reluctantly turned around, knowing he was going to catch a good view of her lacy bra and bare back.

"Nice," he murmured.

Her nerves tingled at the husky word.

"Just focus on the zipper."

"Not as easy as you might think," he said dryly. "You have a beautiful body, what I can see of it—"

"I'd rather you see less of it—so zipper, please."

She stared straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the long crack of plaster on the wall and not on Alex's warm fingers as they grazed her back. But the wall didn't do it for her, so she looked around the living room of her small apartment, suddenly aware of the overflowing laundry basket she'd set on the chair when she'd come up from the laundry room earlier, and the bridal magazines her sister had left on the coffee table, and the half-filled mug of coffee she'd drunk the night before while doing her research on Alex. She wasn't a complete slob, but her apartment was nowhere near as pristine clean as Alex's house. Then again, she didn't have a cleaning staff.

"This is really stuck," Alex said.

"Maybe I'll just wear something else."

"Give me a second. Don't give up so easily."

She normally didn't give up easily at all, but with Alex so close, her nerves were jumping, and she felt a reckless yearning take over her mind and body. She wanted to lean back against him, to feel his arms slide all the way around her waist. He would lower his head and his lips would touch the side of her neck, but he wouldn't stop there. He'd keep on kissing her. He'd pull the dress off her shoulders, and his mouth would drop to her breasts. He would call her beautiful and sexy in that deep, baritone voice. Then she would—

Stop! She would stop, she told herself, searching desperately for another distraction.

She turned her head to look at the opposite wall where her father's award-winning press clippings were framed and displayed. They reminded her of what was important. Her father's work had always been her inspiration. She had to stop acting like a woman around Alex and start acting like a reporter.

"I've got it." With a sigh of satisfaction, Alex pulled the zipper up the length of her back. "You're all set."

Andrea immediately stepped away from him, eager to get some breathing space. She fled into her bedroom, mumbling that she would be with him in a few minutes. When she got into the privacy of her room, she took several deep, calming breaths.

She was not going to be able to do her job if she let herself get turned on by the simple touch of his hand on her back. Walking to her dressing table, she picked up her brush and ran it briskly through her hair. Then she looked for some pins. She'd pull her hair into a knot, a business-like knot.

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