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that their bodies brushed. “For a bright,
perceptive man, you’re being awfully dense.” Matthew crowded him, and Daniel
stepped away before the younger man could feel his growing erection. “I’ve been
just fine with how you ‘need things to be’.” He mockingly lowered his voice to
mimic Daniel’s. “And buddy, I ain’t had vanilla sex since I was a teenager.”
    Matthew returned to his chair and picked up the first
folder. “I’ll look these over, Danny.” Daniel could practically hear his teeth
grinding, and Matt probably did too, because he started to chuckle all over
again. “If you can’t handle being alone in a room with me while I do it.”
Daniel turned toward the door before he knocked the younger man on his ass. Or
kissed him. “Then I guess I’ll just have to give you an answer tomorrow.”
    Matthew was still laughing when the door shut—very
firmly—behind Daniel’s retreating form.

Chapter Five
     
    Shannon dug in with her sneakers and braced herself to heave
her ancient couch up against the one empty wall in Lisa’s apartment, only to
jerk back with a yelp of pain as her finger dragged over a loose nail.
    “Dammit!” She blotted the bleeding wound on her ratty jeans
and stood surveying the mess that was her living room. Lisa had left almost all
of her furniture, which would have been a blessing if Shannon hadn’t had any of
her own. As it was, over the last two days Shannon had managed to fit in an
extra bed (propped up against the bedroom wall), an extra TV (living on the
bathroom counter) and an extra recliner (wedged behind the small table in the
dining nook). All she had to do was manage to man-handle the damn couch into
place and she would have a functional, if not feng shui, living space.
    Taking a moment to kick the couch, which was completely
unproductive but extremely satisfying, Shannon grabbed a bottle of water from
the kitchen, climbed over the recliner and flopped down on the offending piece
of furniture. Deciding she needed a break, she took a little mental vacation
and returned to the pool in her imagination.
    Matt. Matthew. What an utterly beautiful man. His eyes
reminded her of the sky before a storm; the swirling blue and green and gray
were a barometer for his emotions. She already knew when he was amused or happy
his eyes took on a blue that was as clear as the Caribbean Sea. She wondered
what color they’d be when he was aroused, and then gave a very unladylike
snort.
    Shannon had no problems with her self-image, but she was the
first to admit she was a “real woman”. You’d be much more likely to find her in
a Dove commercial than in Sports Illustrated , and she was okay with
that. Unfortunately, men like Matthew Worthington didn’t dally with “real
women”. They dallied with size-negative-zero supermodels named Elga. Still, it
was a nice fantasy, and it cheered her up immensely.
    The last words he’d spoken to her before they’d parted at
the pool had been an offer to help her move the heavy stuff around. She’d
listened attentively when he’d given her his unit number, and thanked him for
the offer, but she’d never actually intended to take him up on it.
    Well, her stinging, bloody finger had her rethinking that.
    She found herself standing outside Matt’s door unable, for
some reason, to actually knock.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She forced herself to knock
briskly, and proceeded to stand wearing her best “friendly neighbor” face while
she waited for him to open the door.
    “Shannon!” Those mood-eyes flashed blue, and if the way he
reached out to immediately draw her into the living room was any indication, he
was truly happy to see her.
    God. He was even more beautiful today than he’d been at the
pool. His long, dark hair was loose again, but held a slight kink where it had
obviously been tied back. He was barefoot and tie-less, but his pale-gray suit
pants clung lovingly to impressive thighs, and the open neck of his white