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listening to their bed creak. She never took him seriously. He was always “Tony’s kid” or “the kid” while he’d dragged around in baggy jeans and huge sweatshirts to hide the boner he’d get every time she walked in the room.
    And seven years later some other woman wasn’t taking him seriously. At least this one he could have.
    A security light blinked on as he climbed the steps to the front door. This was a bad idea. She didn’t want him at her office; she was going to be even more pissed at him on her doorstep. Brett forced himself to the door and rang the bell before he chickened out.
    Then a light inside went on. “Who is it?”
    “Brett.”
    “Brett? Hold on.” The latch clattered as she opened the door, a phone pressed to her ear. “Thanks so much anyway, officer. It’s a false alarm. Good night.” She hit a button on the phone. “You’re a little late.”
    “I was busy.” He sauntered through the door. She had a small landing with stairs that led up one way and down another. The overhead light cast weird honey-colored stripes on the ceiling upstairs and left the downstairs a shadowy cave.
    “I didn’t think you were going to show, so I made other plans for the weekend.”
    “So? You don’t have plans right now.” He peered up to the room at the top of the stairs, but couldn’t see jack. Did she have somebody else here? What if she did have plans right now? But if she’d had plans right now, she wouldn’t have answered the door on the phone to the cops, and some guy would be kicking his ass back to the driveway for interrupting.
    “The plan right now was to sleep.”
    He turned around. Tessa had closed the door and stood holding the neck of her blue satin bathrobe closed. Her eyes were tight and shuttered. Brett reached to brush a lock of hair off her face, but his fingers lingered on her skin. He’d forgotten how soft she felt, how smooth, how very fine. “You can sleep another time.”
    “What if I want to sleep now?”
    He stepped closer to her, crowding her against the wall. “You don’t.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    “You’re breathing heavy, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
    “I was scared when the doorbell rang at two in the morning.”
    “If you were scared, why did you open the door?” He forced his knee between her legs.
    Tessa licked her lips. “Jason is producing your album.”
    “Mm-hmm.” He brushed his nose along her jaw. She smelled like flowers, something light and pretty. And like lust. “Thank you.”
    “Well, that means we’re even.” Her breathing was ragged and tight.
    Brett ran his hands down her arms and peeled her fingers off the wall. “Is that what you thought?” He brought his knee higher until she balanced on it and started rocking her gently. “Do you want me to go then?”
    She moaned, laced her fingers through his and clenched them.
    “Say the word, and I’ll leave.” He touched his lips to the fluttering pulse in her throat.
    “Please,” she murmured.
    “Please leave?” He leaned back, pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant, but not willing to guess with her.
    She grabbed his shoulders and planted her lips on his, forced her way into his mouth. Then wrapped her hands around his back and slid them up into his hair. Arms braced on the wall to keep his weight from crushing her, he met her hot, urgent mouth until he couldn’t remember why he’d been pissed off all week.
    “Tell me you came prepared.” She reached into his back pocket, searching.
    “Of course I came prepared. I’m a fucking boy scout.” He pushed open the shoulder of her robe. Underneath she wore a concert t-shirt that had once been black, but had faded to an uneven gray. Pulling at the stretched out neck, he bit the soft skin on her shoulder.
    She laughed. “I can’t get this condom open or on when we’re this close.”
    He let her have half a step, but kept touching her. None of the little girls in the bar measured up. They were