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rubbed his thumb over her chin sensuously and with regret.
    “Very,” she said. For a second, she wanted to go at it again, but she’d start giggling, no doubt. And it was a relief they wouldn’t be risking their friendship, ground rules notwithstanding. “I’m just going to have to meet somebody new to figure this stuff out. A stranger I could never fall in love with.” Even though it had fizzled, this preliminary trial showed her the potential of this approach. It could change her life for the better. It just wouldn’t work with Ross.
    “How do you plan to do that?” Ross was looking at her intently.
    “I’ll go to a bar, I guess.”
    “Not a biker bar or anyplace rough. Because I can’t let you do that.”
    “I’m not crazy,” she said, touched by his protectiveness. “I’ll just find somebody who’s like you. Someone not my type. A ship passing in the night. A musician. Or I could find a business traveler. Or a pilot.”
    “Where will you go?” he pressed. “What bar?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe the downtown Hyatt. Lots of pilots and flight attendants stay there and there are always business conventions. Don’t worry about me,” she said, shoving at him gently. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”
    “Okay, I guess.” He looked her over again. “Don’t settle for just any guy. You really are hot. I hope you don’t have any doubt about that. Ditch the water bra. And make sure to use a condom or see proof of a blood test.”
    “Okay, okay, Dad. Thanks for being my friend.”
    “Too bad I couldn’t be your stranger.”
    “Yeah, too bad.” If she could meet a stranger who kissed like Ross… That would be too perfect to be possible.



3
    R OSS SPOTTED Kara right away. She sat at one of the high round tables in the middle of the Hyatt bar, looking very hot in a black dress as tight as a second skin, with a scooped neckline that revealed lots of creamy breast. Her fair skin looked luminous in the dim light.
    He ran his fingers through his moussed-back hair. She wanted to sleep with a stranger, so he was giving her one—a South American playboy, to be exact. He’d bought a European-style collarless black silk shirt and a burnt sienna linen suit, borrowed a gold bracelet from a friend, and practiced his Spanish. He’d stopped short of a fake mustache, figuring it would interfere with his kissing and what if it peeled off?
    Why was he doing this? For one thing, the thought of her flashing her shy smile at strange men just about killed him. What if she got into trouble? He had to watch out for her.
    There was something more, something primitive related to the night before. Holding her—even while she giggled—had reminded him how attracted he’d been when they’d first met, and if she hadn’t burst out laughing, he would have gone for it. Her skin had tasted great—like vanilla and cinnamon and she’d felt delicate but sturdy. He wanted to hear how she sounded when she came, listen to her make those soft, desperate noises of pleasure. Couldn’t wait for them, in fact.
    She needed a stranger, so he’d be a stranger. Of course, he could just pick out a nice guy for her, set them up on a date—first threaten the guy’s life if he hurt her, of course—but who better than him to help her out? They’d gone through the ground rules. He knew how to keep it simple and carnal. He just wanted to do it.
    He hoped Kara would get into the game right away. He didn’t want to look too closely at his motives.
    There she sat, looking nervous as hell, completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He found that delightful. Plenty of men were checking her out, too. A car-salesman-looking guy at the bar had just caught her eye. He looked the guy over. Used cars, for sure.
    She smiled tentatively, nervously wagging her crossed leg—spike heels on her feet. Mmm. She sure as hell didn’t have on granny panties tonight. Probably lace—red or black? He hoped it wasn’t a pair of those edible things