By that time, she might spontaneously combust.
It was after five when she parked in the garage, and her agitation level had spiked somewhere on the Schuylkill Expressway between the bumper-to-bumper traffic and the three accidents.
Combine that with high-octane lust, and she was a needy mass of nerves when she finally knocked on the door to his apartment.
She waited impatiently for him to open the door and, when he did, she nearly melted into a pile of goo at his feet.
He wore a pair of black slacks that looked custom made and a white button-down shirt that should’ve screamed conservative but made her want to rip the buttons off, one by one. With her teeth.
Her first clue that he was distracted came from the quick kiss he gave her before waving her through the door. The next was when he told her he needed time to finish what he was doing.
“Make yourself at home. This won’t take me more than a few minutes, I swear.”
When he’d disappeared into his office, she took her overnighter to the bedroom. And started to undress.
She’d brought new lingerie. Something she’d designed specifically for him, although she hadn’t known it at the time. She’d designed it right after they’d met, when she’d still been engaged to Arnie but had known it wasn’t going to work out between them.
She’d gotten the idea from one of Annabelle’s paintings, and she’d thought it would fit tonight’s mood perfectly.
And fit her mood, as well.
She was just pulling on the matching satin chemise when she heard motion behind her.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Kate. I was looking for Tyler.”
Greg.
She froze for a second before making sure the chemise was straight. Then she turned to face the man who was going to watch while she and Tyler made love tonight.
Instead of embarrassment painting her cheeks red, she felt excitement.
But if he’d been leering at her, she would have stomped across the room and slapped his face. Which was stupid, all things considered.
God, it all should’ve made her crazy. Instead, she wanted this man to get so hot and bothered while she and Tyler made love that he had to join them. Had to have her.
But he wasn’t even looking at her.
In fact, he’d turned his back to her, though he didn’t move out of the doorway.
“When did you get here?” he asked, his tone steady. As if he didn’t know or care what was going to happen later.
And maybe he didn’t. Maybe this was just another night to him.
Maybe—
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Just a few minutes ago. Traffic was worse than I expected. You can turn around now. I pretty much covered everything vital.”
When he turned, his gaze met hers and his grin . . . God, the man had a smile that made his broad features light up.
“Honey, I wouldn’t consider your legs nonvital. They’re damn near pretty enough on their own to make me throw myself at your feet. And at my age, that’s saying something.”
Torn between so many conflicting emotions, she fell back on the tried and true: sarcasm.
Crossing her arms under her breasts, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Please, you’re what . . . thirty-five? That’s not old in my book. And you, Mr. Bigshot Hollywood Producer, are you trying to tell me your casting couch is ever empty?”
Mimicking her by crossing his arms, and drawing her attention to his broad chest, Greg leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb, that grin getting more wicked by the second.
And making it harder for her to breathe.
“I’m thirty-six. And would you like to test my casting couch?”
God, did she? What—
Tyler appeared in the doorway next to Greg, entering the room and stealing all the air. At this rate, she’d be dizzy in seconds.
“Ignore him, Kate. Greg pretends to be an ass but it’s usually an act.”
As her gaze met Tyler’s, she realized his laser-sharp focus had returned. And landed squarely on her.
As if he’d shut out every other distraction and she was the only thing in his life worth having at the moment.
It literally took her breath away to have him stare at her like that. Only when her lungs began to ache did she draw in air.
Tyler’s half grin had a definite edge to it as he stopped in front of her, blocking out everything but him.
“I see you took my advice and made yourself comfortable.” He reached out and let his fingers play over the wide strips of black lace that held up the bodice. She’d used the lace as decoration around the top of the chemise, at the hem and up the side split. “I think I recognize this.”
She’d wondered if he would. It was the same lace he’d used to tie her to her bed.
That dull flush of color spread across his cheekbones and she knew if she looked down, his erection would be tenting the front of his pants.
“It’s a new design.” She took a step back and did a slow turn. “I got the idea from one of Annabelle’s paintings.”
“It does look Victorian, but it also reminds me of something from the twenties. I like it.”
“I’m glad.”
“And it looks easy to get off.”
That made her blush. She had no idea why, considering she’d been thinking about stripping in front of his friend.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
He pitched the question in a low voice, low enough that Greg wouldn’t hear.
Although, looking over Tyler’s shoulder, she saw Greg watching them intently, his smile gone.
Her thighs clenched and an ache started in her gut. Now was the time to back out, if she had any doubts at all.
Her gaze reconnected with Tyler’s. “No. I’m not.”
She spoke loudly enough that Greg could hear her. Though she didn’t see his response, she did see Tyler’s. And the scorching intensity in his gaze was enough to make her sex tighten and moisten.
And when he bent down to kiss her, she almost wasn’t prepared for the sensation of drowning. She felt like she was going under and she’d be damned if she cared to resurface.
He tasted hot, felt hot, and made her want to melt beneath him. Her hands rose to cling to his shoulders, her body doing a full press against his. In her bare feet, she barely came up to his chin, so she rose onto her toes to get a better angle at his mouth.
Before she realized it, he’d wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She floated, weightless, even though she ached with a lust so hot, it felt like molten lead rushing through her veins.
She wasn’t ready to release him when he broke away and set her on her feet. She curved one hand around his neck so she could take one more kiss before drawing away.
The flush on his cheeks had deepened and his eyes glinted with promise.
“Did you eat yet?”
She shook her head. “I’m not really all that hungry.”
“Humor me. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m going to order some steaks up to the Salon. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Nodding, he turned to Greg. “You?”
“Yeah, I could eat.”
And again, that sarcastic little devil that hid in her brain and only emerged in intense sexual situations popped its head out again. “I guess you need to keep your strength up, being almost forty and all.”
There was that smile again.
Had something happened to her to make her sex-crazy? She never had been before. Sex with Arnie had been nice. Sweet. Comforting.
She’d never once considered inviting another man into their bed. Arnie would have been scandalized. And hurt.
Tyler wanted to share her with Greg. Almost as if he were showing off a favorite toy.
Was that why?
Was she merely a possession he could show off, like one of Annabelle’s prized paintings or—