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she was famous for saying no, not because they meant it. She musthave imagined the intensity of that whole thing. Seth was a playboy. Lena, while not an innocent in a few too many ways, was utterly one in the world of the one-night rendezvous.
    Oh, hell. She could laugh it off, right? He probably wasn’t going to show anyway. She held out her hand and checked to see if the all-over trembling she felt inside was visible. Totally was. As the seconds ticked she knew she couldn’t follow through. She’d been on another planet to think she could. She might once have been labelled a minx who tried to destroy a marriage, but she was no femme fatale. She never did this. Never thought about hot, sweaty, super-naughty sex.
    Well, hardly ever.
    Her heart thundered, splitting her body in two with its contrary desires—one half wanted to run far and fast to a safe, isolated corner, while the other half couldn’t get past that so-carnal kiss and wanted more, more, more.
    Maybe what she’d said to him earlier hadn’t been that far off the mark. Maybe being around all those nearly naked men had somehow turned her sexual thermostat on high. Maybe it hadn’t been Seth heating her so devastatingly, it had been the situation.
    That would be it.
    Except she’d been around all those semi-naked rugby boys so many times before and had never had this kind of reaction to any of them. Somehow Seth Walker had slid right beneath her rigidly imposed barriers and flicked her switch on high. And it had been so long, she couldn’t seem to turn herself back off. She drummed her fingers on her tidy desk and as the clock ticked on her bravado seeped out. She’d call him and cancel, except she didn’t have his number.
    Oh, hell, she didn’t want to wait round for either a no-show or an awkward end to what had been a simple flirt for him and a lightning bolt for her. She grabbed her bag a good ten minutes before she’d told him to meet her and started down the empty corridor, a second away from sprinting.
    â€˜Lena.’
    Her skin crisped as if she’d been plunged into boiling oil. She turned slowly and saw him leaning against Dion’s doorjamb. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, girlishly breathless.
    His smile broadened. ‘Waiting for you?’
    â€˜I said Exit Four.’ Her heart stuttered like a first-generation machine gun. The reaction began instantly—his proximity heating her so fast she tingled all over.
    â€˜Oh, that’s right,’ he drawled, eyes twinkling. ‘I forgot.’
    She didn’t think so; he was far too intelligent to forget anything like that.
    â€˜Exit Four…’ He glanced at the wall and the signs that were so helpfully posted there. ‘That’s down that corridor, isn’t it?’
    Lena didn’t answer yes because, if she’d been going to Exit Four, she should have turned left five paces ago.
    â€˜Lucky we bumped into each other here, isn’t it, otherwise you might have been waiting for ages at Exit Four and thought I’d stood you up. But I’d never do that.’
    He spoke softly, but she felt the light bite he intended. He knew she’d been going to bottle it and be the one to stand him up.
    She just looked at him, at a loss for everything because he was wreaking havoc on her system again. As had happened the second she’d first seen him, nerves, hormones, needs began to shriek.
    â€˜Shall we get going?’ He jerked his head towards the stairs.
    Her mouth was gummed, so she couldn’t get the ‘sorrybut no thanks’ out and he’d already cupped her elbow and started walking them down the stairs. Her response surged higher. Incredible how the sound of his voice and the lightest grip on her brought on such giddy anticipation.
    She was melting—into a mess. This wasn’t going to work. She’d never spoken so suggestively in her life. In her last relationship