When she wandered back to the front of the condo, she found Damian in the kitchen, contemplating the food arrayed on the counter before him.

  She braced herself for some smugness or an I-told-you-so, but instead he gave her an apologetic look.

  He gestured at the spread he’d laid out. “I don’t stay here often, so it looks like our choice is mostly frozen pizza and hard seltzer.”

  She resolved to be gracious in her discomfiture. “Sounds exactly like what I was thinking.”

  While his hair was still damp, he’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans.

  “Meaning you pegged me for the type to have an empty fridge with nothing but a container of leftover takeout?” he asked drolly.

  Rather than answering, she moved closer to peer at the pizza box. “Feta, pineapple and pepperoni?”

  “You’ve never tried it?” he said, feigning surprise.

  “I’m more of a spinach and artichoke type. But I’m sure it’s...delicious.”

  Damian lifted the side of his mouth. “Trust me.”

  Wasn’t that the issue?

  Her gaze skittered away from his, and she busied herself opening a can of wild cherry seltzer.

  She focused on setting the table while he heated the pizza. Afterward, she made a pretense of scrolling through work emails on her phone while they waited for the food to be ready. Anything to distract herself from Damian moving around casually in the kitchen nearby.

  When they finally sat down at the small dining table to eat, Mia took some bites of food and found herself unexpectedly relaxing. She’d been hungrier than she’d thought.

  Damian eyed her plate. “Looks as if you like that pepperoni, pineapple and feta pizza after all.”

  She swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Surprisingly good.”

  “See, try something new and—”

  “The correct response is thank you?” she parried, echoing his words earlier.

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Sorry I couldn’t deliver anything close to the home-cooked meal that you’d have gotten at your parents’ house.”

  Struck by his unexpected apology, she found herself wanting to reassure him. “Yes, but then I would have had to deal with my relatives, and as you could tell, families can be difficult sometimes. It’s like you’re slotted into a role and typecast. At least that’s how I feel.”

  Damian quirked his lips. “That’s what happens with people who’ve known you for a long time.”

  She took a sip of her drink. “Please don’t claim to be a rebel again. I think I’ve got that role locked up. Anyway, from all appearances, you’re the American dream personified. The son of immigrants who climbed to the gazillionaire ranks.”

  “Yeah, but when you’re an immigrant, family loyalty usually counts for more. In Jakob Musil’s eyes, I should have stayed in Welsdale to raise JM Construction to new heights.”

  She could tell him a thing or two about family loyalty, too.

  He leaned back in his chair. “And after my mother died, the family got even tighter. It was just me, my brother and my dad.”

  “I’m sorry.” She knew that Damian’s mother had died suddenly when he was thirteen. She’d been ten at the time but she’d heard people in town mentioning it.

  Damian shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But the scar is still there.” She didn’t know why she made the comment—only that something in his eyes had belied his casual words.

  “The scar is what made me who I am today. Though I don’t think Dad understood it.”

  She tilted her head inquiringly.

  “I fast-tracked my life. Not just to get away from the sadness at home, but because I got a firsthand look at the cliché that life is short. After she died, I let ambition fuel me.”

  Ambition was her fuel, too, but what a terrible thing to have it lit by the death of a parent.

  “So I powered through Carnegie Mellon in five years for a joint computer science and MBA degree.”

  “And the rest is history,” she said half-jokingly.

  He arched a brow. “Only if you read the business press.”

  “You’re not doing too shabbily on the New York social scene, either.”

  “Obviously,” he deadpanned. “I showed up at the Ruby Ball with Mia Serenghetti as my date.”

  She flushed.

  Did she want these insights into Damian Musil? It was so much easier to treat him as a two-dimensional character—a villain with sex appeal.

  * * *

  Mia curled up in a corner of the overstuffed sofa—and nursed her cup of chamomile. Outside the driving rain pounded against the Juliet balcony even though the hour already neared midnight. She saw a flash of lightning, and moments later, it was accompanied by claps of thunder.

  She hadn’t been able to sleep, even though it had been a long day. The Bensens were lovely people, but she’d still been unable to relax completely during the golf game. Not when she was aware of Damian’s every move. At one point, she’d caught Allison giving her a knowing look. Who’d have thought that a Serenghetti and a Musil would ever be on the same team?

  And then, of course, Damian had shocked her by turning up at her parents’ house. He truly believed he’d come to her defense, and she in turn had jumped in to defend him. Now everyone thought they really were a couple.

  “I thought I heard noise.”

  Mia jerked with surprise, and then put her sloshing mug down on an end table.

  Damian stood silhouetted in the doorway. He was bare chested, and sweats hung low on his hips. If she’d thought he’d emanated sex appeal in jeans and a T-shirt, she was in no way prepared for the sight of a seminude Damian, his hair tousled from bed.

  In the dim lighting afforded by a small lamp, Mia traced the lines of sculpted muscle—hard biceps, flat abs, ripped pecs. He worked out—obviously. And his stint on the wrestling team and his martial arts training didn’t hurt.

  When Damian’s lips twitched, she averted her gaze. Don’t touch. As long as there was no contact, she’d be fine...

  He sauntered forward and sat down next to her.

  “Sorry if I woke you,” she mumbled.

  “I had a hard time sleeping, too.”

  She was curled up, but Damian sprawled—his arm resting on the back of the sofa.

  Her resolution about touching was getting harder to keep by the second. Damn it. Was he testing her? But no—he looked like the personification of ease while she verged on painful awareness.

  “The thunder could wake anybody,” he commented.

  You could wake anyone. While she’d struggled to sleep in the guest bedroom, she’d been aware of Damian beyond the bedroom wall in the next room. Her thoughts had hopped and skipped around, but Damian had been like a low hum in the back of her mind.

  “What have you been thinking?”

  She flushed. “Just contemplating the rain.”

  “Did storms bother you when you were a kid?”

  “Not really.”

  “I guess there’s no chance of you jumping into my arms with fright?” he teased.

  She straightened on the sofa, uncurling her legs and planting her feet on the floor. “In your dreams.”

  He tilted his head. “I can almost taste you there, you know.”

  She gave a strained laugh. “Those must be some vivid dreams.”

  “Very.”

  A shiver of awareness chased down her spine, and she tingled all over.

  “Do you want details?” His voice was low, intimate.

  “What flavor am I?” she asked, her voice hitching.

  No touching, no touching, no touching. She hung on to that resolution like a lifeline.

  He quirked his lips. “What part of you am I sampling?”

  Wow. Erotic images flashed through her mind. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it. “You have no problems resisting me, remember?”

  She sucked in a breath. “Right.”

  She’d resolved not to make the first move, but she searched her muddled mind about what was supposed to happen if he did.

  “On the other hand, I want you badly.”

  “Oh.” She wanted to ask since when—

  “Your brothers saw right through me. Your family doesn’t like it.”

  She drew in an offended breath. “Who cares?”

  She stared at his lips, the plains of his chest visible in the semidarkness and then thrown into relief by a flash of lightning. She lifted her gaze and met his.

  It was like he was willing her to make a move—coaxing her to touch him. The tension radiated from him like heat from a bonfire. Too bad the rain was outside and couldn’t douse the flames licking her right now.

  She wet her lips, and he made a sound.

  Honestly, it was hard to hold on to the idea of him as the bad guy. It was hard to think at all. He’d walked right into the firestorm at her parents’ house—and, traitorously, she’d momentarily thrilled at the sight of him after the initial shock. The whole situation had tested her loyalties, confusing her with her impulse to guard him from her family.

  He was a Musil, but she’d started thinking of him as just Damian. Friend or enemy—or something else?

  “I have no trouble resisting you.” The words rang hollow even to her own ears.

  “Ah. Yeah. But we didn’t say anything about my resisting you.”

  If he’d touched her first, did that mean her own resolution about touching no longer applied? Plus, he’d found the weak chink in her armor by mentioning her family. She had a long insubordinate streak.

  Slipping her hand over his shoulder, she exerted gentle pressure and brought his head forward.

  “One last act of rebellion by getting it on with a Musil?” he muttered.

  “Why not?” she whispered against his lips. “Everyone thinks I already have.”

  He groaned.

  And then their lips touched, in a kiss that was hot and full of promise.

  Damian angled her head and leisurely explored her mouth. She met him caress for caress as the kiss deepened. When he sought more, she tipped back and he leaned forward. And then he was bringing her legs onto his lap and following her down until her head rested on the arm of the sofa.

  Still holding the kiss, he pushed back the gaping top of her pajama shirt.

  Mia arched her back, her nipples brushing his chest and hardening. She shifted, seeking his touch, her body humming. Her pulse thrummed through her, hot and heavy with excitement...anticipation.

  Damian fisted his hand in her shirt and pulled it down to expose her shoulder and the top of her breast. Then he trailed his lips along her jaw and down the side of her neck, pausing to nip her shoulder before stroking featherlight kisses on her breast.

  “Do you always wander around the house without your shirt on?” she managed on a sigh.

  He gave a low chuckle. “Hey, at least I put on my sweats before coming out here. I didn’t want to scandalize you.”

  “We’ve been building to a scandal for weeks.”

  “Why stop now?” he murmured.

  It was hard to come up with an answer.

  And then his mouth was on her breast, and Mia forgot to think at all. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his hair and gave herself up to the sensation of Damian lavishing attention on the soft mound.

  Sensation shot through her and pooled between her legs.

  He moved to her other breast, and she whimpered.

  “Mia,” he said hoarsely when he lifted his head moments later. “You’re even more spectacular than I imagined.”

  She breathed in deep. “What do I taste like?”

  His eyes glittered in a flash of lightning. “Like heaven.”

  She pulled his head down for a lingering kiss until they were a tangle of limbs. His erection brushed against her, evidence that he was aroused.

  When the kiss finally ended, he leveraged himself up and stood. Before she could react, he lifted her into his arms and she squeaked.

  Instinctively, she linked her arms around his neck to anchor herself, and Damian strode across the room. Thunder rumbled outside and the rain came down with renewed fury.

  “Is this to demonstrate how strong you are?” she teased weakly, adjusting to the unaccustomed sensation of being carried—literally swept off her feet. “I believed you about the martial arts and the rest, you know.”

  Damian kicked open his bedroom door. “This has nothing to do with showing off. I’m desperate, and I have protection in my room. Or at least I hope to hell I do.”

  Peripherally, Mia took note of the masculine bedroom done in muted neutrals that she’d glimpsed earlier through the partially open door. And then she found herself deposited on the rumpled king-size bed.

  With a couple of fluid moves, Damian opened a small zippered travel pouch on the night table and placed a foil packet on the polished wood.

  She raised herself on her elbows and glanced around at the tangle of sheets. “Looks like you were having a rough night.”

  “You have no idea.” He began stripping off his sweats.

  Dear sweet fashion gods. “You don’t need clothes.”

  “Afraid I’ll put you out of business?” he teased.

  She flushed.

  “Yeah, I don’t need clothes, I need you. Now.”

  Yes.

  He clamped a hand on her ankle and pulled her toward him while she gave a small exclamation. When he stripped the sweatpants from her, he paused appreciatively. “Red panties.”

  She heated. “I was in a hurry and tossed them when I was changing.”

  He started unbuttoning her flannel shirt the rest of the way—and then fumbled.

  His impatience—she’d never call Damian nervous—excited her further.

  “Here let me.”

  While she worked at the buttons, he slid his hands up her legs and under her butt, and then trailed his lips up her inner thigh.

  “Let’s get these silky red panties off you.”

  She squirmed, and then his mouth found her hot core and she gasped.

  With relief, she slid her arms out of her shirt sleeves and tugged him toward her.

  “What do you want, Mia?” he breathed against her mouth.

  “You. I want you.”

  They couldn’t move fast enough then. He tossed the last pieces of clothing from the bed, and they were a tangle of limbs when thunder rumbled again. He touched her everywhere, arousing her with his mouth and hands.

  Somehow they ended up switching positions, and she was on top, astride him. She caressed his length, aching to touch him, and watched him from under lowered lashes.

  He closed his eyes on a hiss.

  “Yes?”

  “Mia.”

  She tasted him with her mouth, and his hand tangled in her hair.

  Damian groaned but held still. “Sweet.”

  He jerked beneath her attentions, and his free hand fisted in the sheets.

  When she sensed that he was on the brink, she straightened, brushed her hair aside, and rolled protection onto his length. She leaned down to kiss him again, and he surprised her by flipping her onto her back one more time.

  Testing first, he then entered her in one fluid motion, and they both moaned.

  Damian muttered something unintelligible against her neck. Moments later, he started moving, setting a tempo that she met with a counterpoint.

  With the storm raging outside, Damian’s arms seemed both the safer and more dangerous place to be. He adjusted her hips and suddenly he was hitting her in the exact right spot.

  “Oh.” Her breath came in gasps.

  “Let it happen, Mia,” he groaned into her ear. “Come for me.”

  It was the last encouragement she needed. She spasmed, her hips undulating against him and setting off his own orgasm.

  They clung together, waves of sensation lifting them higher until they finally ebbed away, leaving them panting.

  Moments later, Damian rolled off her and covered his eyes with his arm. “I went to heaven.”

  She giggled. “Better than your fantasies?”

  Damian turned toward her and propped himself on an elbow. “Yup, and there were plenty of those.”

  He traced a finger down her chest between her breasts. “I used to wonder what the girl with the flashing eyes was thinking.”

  “Please, you hardly noticed me.”

  “I did,” he insisted.

  “I was a lowly freshman when you were a senior at Welsdale High.”

  “Remember Jacinda’s pool party? I could barely take my eyes off you.”

  She recalled surreptitiously checking him out, too. “I remember shopping around for the perfect retro swimsuit.”

  “One that accented your curves.”

  He circled a finger around her breast, and her eyelids fluttered.

  “One that flattered my coloring.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Mmm.” She sighed languorously, and then turned her head when a glint of gold on the night table caught her attention. “You wear jewelry?”

  She didn’t recall Damian ever sporting any—not even a watch.

  “It’s a keepsake that I sometimes travel with.” He paused and scanned her gaze. “A chain necklace that my mother bought when I was born.”

  “Ah. She’s still part of who you are.”

  “Yes.”

  She was startled by the insight. Another sign that she was failing badly at keeping her distance from Damian. He’d even melted her heart by his interaction with Dahlia, in the midst of a charged conversation with the rest of her family.

  She and Damian had kept their distance from each other over the years. Their families’ rivalry had been like an insurmountable wall even in the face of any stirrings of attraction. But now that wall was crumbling. Her heart pounded. They’d dated, they’d kissed, they’d gotten to know each other better and realize how much they had in common... They’d just had sex. Wow, she was in deep...