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okay, she supposed. She’d never been accused of being overly thin. Marian was the slight one in the family, while Gwen fought the perpetual battle of the booty. Breasts, hips, and thighs had a will of their own. No matter how she tried, they relished maintaining their prefab form. After a while, Gwen had just given up and decided to enjoy life. As long as she operated within reason, didn’t diet or exercise too much, she could stay within the same five-pound range that she’d grown accustomed to and certain men seemed to appreciate.
    Gwen flushed at the memory of Dan’s sky-blue gaze. At first she’d thought he’d just been flattering her, trying to put a gallery contact at ease. But the more she pondered it, the less she thought so. As they’d sat there discussing canvas pricing, his heated perusal had washed all over her like the clearest Caribbean wave. Gwen imagined the two of them on a distant beach, Dan bare-chested in the sun. He’d tell her once more how beautiful she was, and, half-naked in her tummy-control swimsuit, she’d feel forced to believe it. He’d take her by the waist then, pull her soft body to his, taut stomach muscles tensing as he wrapped his arms around her… Gwen heard the surf crash, water swirling furiously at their feet, as he brought his glorious mouth to hers.
    Suddenly, she realized she’d stalled in applying her lipstick and was standing there all puckered up like a ridiculous guppy. “That’s the price I pay for that second Shiraz,” she scolded herself, vowing to make coffee. She was glad the suite’s miniature kitchen supplied what she needed for that. Now where was the sugar cube she could find to quell her outlandish fantasies?
    Gwen had considered putting on a flirty dress for her meeting with Dan tonight but now worried that might send the wrong message. She wasn’t seeing him for any sort of social reasons, she reminded herself. They were convening to sign a contract, for heaven’s sake. Gwen lifted her perfume bottle and spritzed her neck, wrists, and the backs of her knees with its fine aroma.
    Gwen’s belly warmed as she recalled how Dan had hesitated by her foot just an instant too long in retrieving her dropped napkin. If he’d touched her then, even by accidentally brushing her calf, she would have fainted. They would have had to call in the rescue squad to scoop her limp form off the New Mexican tile. It didn’t take an expert to see the super-studly Dan Holbrook held more masculinity in one pinkie than the pallid and self-possessed Robert contained from head to toe.
    Coffee, Gwen reminded herself, noting by the clock on the nightstand it was almost time. The sooner she got this over and done with, the better. If she could negotiate the paperwork without chancing to shake Dan’s hand, all the better. Even after the coffee, Gwen didn’t trust herself to touch him. This was what Marian called an unwelcome consequence of celibacy.
    Gwen adjusted her bra, shifting her bosom into its proper place, then, quite as an afterthought, she was sure, gave her cleavage the tiniest little burst of Midnight Jasmine perfume.

    Dan looked up as the door chime sounded. There she stood, looking as gorgeous as a desert sunset, the colors of her sexy, short dress swirling about her in mauve, gold, and russet browns. “Are you ready for me?” she asked, dark eyes sparkling with anticipation.
    Dan thought he was, in fact had prepared for her all afternoon, but now he felt as awkward and uncertain as a teenager. “Of course,” he said, working to get the words out in a businesslike manner. “Come on in.” Her womanly scent overtook him as his eyes trailed from her ankles to her cleavage to her faintly colored cheekbones. “Please, have a seat.” He indicated a spot, nearly missing his own chair. Dan scooted onto it as she pulled hers in toward the desk just a tad too close. The sweet angles of her knees pressed into his ever so slightly.
    A crimson blush warmed her