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hanky-panky with customers, Beaumann. Best you understand that. Totally."
    "'Hanky-panky'?" Now he did laugh, a deep masculine laugh that rolled out of his chest on strong breaths. Ginger sucked up the urge to laugh with him. God, she loved men who laughed like that. Especially in bed.
    "Good night," she said, keeping her lips tight and efficiently prissy, and nuking all thoughts of bed and Cal Beaumann from her head. She closed the door so quickly behind her, her skirt caught, and she had to open it again to free it. Cal was still laughing, and she was sure she heard him repeating, "Hanky-panky," but she didn't keep the door open long enough to confirm it.
    * * *
    When Cal stopped laughing, he put his feet up on his desk and kept the smile on his face.
    One thing for sure, Ginger Cameron hadn't disappointed him. Once they'd got down to business, working with her had been fun. Electric. Of course, she'd ignored his request, hadn't changed her style—or whatever the hell it was—and still looked like a turn-of-the-century prison warden, but she was sharp as hell. He'd come to get a kick out of seeing her show up in her crazy retro clothes, each outfit more creative than the one before. Made him look forward to his tomorrows.
    Maybe too much so.
    He took his feet off his desk.
    Next up? Another meeting with Ian, his impatient brother with the calculator brain who thought an evening spent reviewing financial statements was better than an orgasm.
    Cal didn't agree. But if Ian wanted a Cinema Neo update— again —he'd get it. Cal wondered about Ian's suddenly heightened interest in the business, but chalked it up to him simply wanting to be informed about his investment. Fair enough.
    From his small office window, he spotted Ginger walking toward her car, and found himself intrigued by the way her hips bumped against that god-awful canvas skirt she'd encased herself in for today's meeting.
    What the hell was under all that damn yardage anyway?
    He tilted his head for a better look, imagined long shapely legs—leading to exactly where a man wanted to be.
    While he considered the possibilities, she dropped her car keys, and when she bent over to pick them up, he glimpsed a perfect backside.
    He whistled softly and let out a long easy breath.
    Temptation waved a flag, yelled about how much fun it would be to peel off some fabric layers and uncover the real Ginger Cameron. He countered temptation by reminding it what a bad idea it was to mix business with pleasure. Temptation responded with a dissertation on women, sex, and the value of play in relieving stress. Very logical, temptation—and profound.
    If it was true all work and no play made a dull boy, by now Cal figured, he was the equivalent of a petrified couch potato. Finding out what made Cameron tick—under the clothes and between the sheets—was exactly the kind of play he needed right now. Hell, he hadn't had sex in so long he'd probably forgotten how to do it.
    He smiled. Not a chance. Any man who could forget the lush enticing curves of a woman, the bone-melting heat and welcome home nestled at the apex of her thighs, had to have had a lobotomy. Of course, he wasn't absolutely certain Ginger actually had curves—but it would be entertaining to find out. And he couldn't think of a better time to start than right away.
    He'd drop by her place tonight, after his meeting with Ian, and see how she was making out with the website.
    God, but he was brilliant when he set his mind to it. He grinned and looked at his watch. A couple of hours with Ian and he'd be at Ginger's door.
    * * *
    As it turned out, Ginger's house was on the beach about ten miles down the road from the hotel where he and Ian had dinner. A dinner that hadn't gone well.
    Cal was left with the gut-wrenching feeling his number-crunching brother had his own agenda. One that didn't line up with his. Cinema Neo might be Cal's passion, but to Ian it was just another money machine. No matter how many times Cal