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he live with himself if he accepted her condition? Would a night with Claire finally get her out of his hair for good?
    He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

4
    H E STILL FELT NOTHING like a cold fish.
    He was all hot flesh and hard muscle, just like in her damn fantasies.
    Claire was sure though that she only needed to get Mason into bed to prove that he was anything but fantasy material. One mediocre night—that’s all she was asking for.
    She tilted her head back, tugged him toward her, and he accepted the offer of a kiss. A long, hot, demanding kiss with a promise of so much more to come. Definitely not the kiss of a cold fish.
    Her insides grew warm and tingly, and a spinning-out-of-control sensation overtook her. Nothing mattered except Mason’s heat, his touch, his kiss. Even his five o’clock shadow scraping against her face felt good, and she was just about to rid him of his shirt and find out how his bare chest felt beneath her fingertips when he broke the kiss.
    â€œHow do I know you’re not lying about this extra information?” he asked, a little breathless.
    â€œYou don’t. Guess you’ll have to trust me.” Claire realized a moment too late what a risky proposition that would be for him.
    She watched doubt form in Mason’s eyes, and she felt her chance to score tonight slipping away yet again. She had to do something.
    Fast.
    â€œThis is crazy.”
    He took a step back, but Claire tightened her grip on him and steeled herself for more possible humiliation. “Yeah, it is crazy. So do it, anyway, and I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
    â€œAfter you give me this mysterious information, right?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œIf it’s something you found out, then I can find out on my own, too.”
    â€œYou don’t have time to play detective. You’re a busy man, and this is a direct threat to your business.”
    His doubtful gaze turned calculating, and Claire saw her chance. She shifted her hips so that her body molded to him, and she slid one hand down his chest, the other down his back and over the firm muscles of his ass.
    He felt too good to let go of.
    Then he gave in.
    He wrapped his arms tight around her and devoured her with another kiss. As his tongue caressed hers and his hands burned trails across her backside,Claire felt herself melting. He still bore an unsettling resemblance to the man of her fantasies, and she was having a hard time being upset about it.
    She’d hoped he would at least have doggy breath or an odd body odor—anything to remind her that this was real life. But no, he smelled of soap and something faintly evergreen, and his scent only added to his sex appeal.
    Damn it.
    A gust of wind whipped through the room, and Claire imagined for a moment that they were creating their own storm. When Mason broke their kiss and looked over his shoulder at the real source of the wind gust, she noticed for the first time that he had a pair of French doors standing open.
    Outside she could see a private oasis, a lush garden surrounding a large veranda, with what looked like a hot tub tucked into one corner. Palm fronds and other exotic plants whipped and swayed in the wind, and beyond them, the sky had taken on a foreboding darkness.
    Yet all Claire could think about were her tropical fantasies of Mason taking her in some lush, wet place. Drops of rain pelting their naked skin, their own wild animal sounds mingling with the music of the storm….
    What better way to nip her most annoying and recurrent fantasy in the bud than to act it out and rid it of its potency?
    Yes.
    â€œLet’s go out there,” she said.
    Mason gave her a look she was all too familiar with. “In the storm?”
    â€œIt’s not really storming yet, just raining a little.”
    Okay, the occasional bursts of heavy rain were bordering on torrential, but that didn’t matter in the face of her determination. This