Page 19 of Back in Black

Holding her laptop and briefcase like a shield, she faced him. “I’ll call the director of the boys’ group tonight. Given his enthusiasm the last time we spoke, I’m sure Monday will work, but either way, I’ll be in touch.”

“ ’Course you will.” He couldn’t resist teasing her again. “And you know, you don’t have to pretend that it’s all for the job, either.”

She actually growled, then she stormed around him for the door. Right before she reached it, Drew said softly, “Gillian?”

Maybe expecting an apology or some such nonsense, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. Over her shoulder, she looked at him. “What?”

“I just thought you should know something.”

One brow lifted.

“I marked you.”

Brows beetling in puzzlement, she said, “Excuse me?”

“You have a killer hickey on your neck.” He winked. “Next time we play that game, maybe we should pick a body part that’s not so visible.”

In less than the three seconds he’d originally planned for the kiss, she was out the door and had slammed it behind her.

Drew laughed. Damn, he liked her.

Worse, he wanted her.

Now what?

GILLIAN stood in the back of the auditorium as the excited director of the boys’ home introduced Drew as a “very special surprise” to the audience of squirming, defensive, disgruntled youths. As she’d half expected, the director had jumped at the opportunity to have the infamous Drew Black as a guest, even on short notice, and he’d quickly rearranged the schedule for the day.

Drew took it all as his due, and now he looked perfectly at ease on the stage. He’d worn an SBC T-shirt and jeans, and it was the perfect choice to fit in with the youths.

While Gillian listened to the director revering Drew in his drawn-out introduction, she fingered the colorful scarf wrapped around her neck.

For as long as she could remember, she’d bruised easily. With the sensual way he’d devoured her neck . . . well, as Drew had stated, he’d most definitely marked her. Not since her college days had she had a hickey. Though no one could see the mark, thanks to the scarf, she still felt conspicuous and . . . wickedly risqué.

Ridiculous.

But every time she remembered the touch of his mouth there, his hot breath, the way he clutched her to him . . . she got chills followed by flashes of heat and the unmistakable churning of desire.

She wanted Drew Black, more than she’d wanted any man in a very long time. He seemed to know her, really know her—as a woman, and as a sexual being.

Not that she’d been sexual lately.

For far too long, she’d been too particular to get sexually involved. She’d had casual dates that didn’t even rate a kiss, much less intercourse. The interest necessary for that level of intimacy just hadn’t existed for her.

But now, it was impossible not to imagine how someone like Drew, so free of social inhibition, might be in bed.

From the stage, his gaze met hers, and even with so much distance between them and thirty rowdy young men waiting impatiently to be entertained, she felt ensnared by his provocative intent. It was all Gillian could do not to bite her lip. Shifting her feet, she squeezed her thighs together. A deep breath had her breasts straining the front of her blouse.

And looking at Drew, at the quirk to his mouth and the glimmer in his eyes, she saw that heknewhow he affected her.

Luckily, the director joined her, giving her the excuse to look away from Drew to indulge a quiet whisper.

“Thank you again, Ms. Noode, for bringing us such a terrific speaker.”

Was that an assumption? “You’ve heard him before, Mr. Darwich?”

“On televised interviews and online. He can be . . . colorful. But he’s also a brilliant, motivated businessman.”

“Such accolades,” she teased.

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