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dark eyes and darker voice hypnotized her as he leaned closer. “See, you’re stiffening up,” he kneaded her shoulders for emphasis and her knees went gummy. “You need to relax, act as though you’re used to having me touch you all the time,” he leaned and his hot breath tickled her earlobe, “used to having me touch you everywhere.”
    Oh, she was toast. He could have stripped off her shorts and fucked her right there on the sidewalk if he’d wanted. Instead he’d tucked her hand in his and Lauren spent the rest of the day indulging herself in his loverlike caresses, twining her fingers in his, leaning into his wall of a chest when he slipped an arm around her waist, even nuzzling her nose into the heated dip in his throat.
    Of course, none of this meant anything, she reminded herself firmly during her fleeting moments of sanity.
    But hey, if he wanted to bulk up on rehearsal time, who was she to complain?
    By the time she showered and got ready for the party, every nerve hummed with sexual anticipation. All the more frustrating because she knew it would go unsatisfied. Oh well. At the very least it distracted her from being nervous.
    She combed the styling product Karen had given her into her damp hair, marveling again at how the slippery stuff turned her mop of frizz into smooth, bouncy curls. Then, following Karen’s instructions, she pulled the heavy mass into a twist, allowing a few tendrils to curl around her face and neck.
    She studied her makeup with a critical eye. Karen had supplied her with a palette of neutral tones, assuring Lauren that anyone with opposable thumbs could do an acceptable makeup job. “You can’t overapply any of this,” she’d sworn. “As long as you don’t streak mascara down your cheek, you’ll be just fine.”
    Lauren wasn’t a complete moron with makeup, but it had been ages since she’d worn more than sunscreen, mascara, and lipstick. She slicked on one last coat of peach gloss, noting that the color almost matched the flowers on her dress.
    Now the dress, that really freaked her out. She stepped back a few feet, wishing the dressing area had a full-length mirror. In the vanity she could only see herself from the waist up, and she wondered for at least the dozenth time why she’d allowed Karen to talk her into buying this.
    Not that the creamy floral print didn’t flatter her smooth, tan complexion and reddish hair, but it left her so…bare. The crisscross bodice put her breasts at the center of attention, plumping them up until they remained covered only by a miracle of fashion engineering. The spaghetti straps showed her toned arms and shoulders, and, while Karen claimed she looked strong and sexy, Lauren feared she bore a more than passing resemblance to a linebacker. The bias cut skimmed her ample curves and the hem settled just above her knee. At least she’d keep cool in the unseasonably hot weather.
    The shoes, she conceded, were semireasonable, although she would have much preferred buying them in a practical color like beige or even cream. But Karen had insisted the peach leather kitten-heel slides were the perfect complement to the dress. Thank God Karen hadn’t pushed her into buying stilettos. The dress was precarious enough—any extra tottering or wobbling would have immediately resulted in a wardrobe malfunction.
    Steeling herself, she straightened her shoulders and twirled a curl around her finger until it coiled just so. As she exited the dressing area, she saw Tony sitting in the overstuffed armchair near the sliding glass door of the balcony, looking hotter than sin. His wheat-colored button-down shirt emphasized the rich color of his skin and hair, while his tobacco-colored trousers molded to his defined thighs as he sat with his ankle propped on his knee. He had a funny half smile on his face as he read…her copy of The Stealthy Rogue.
    “You really get off on this,” he laughed, not looking up from the book. “ His hand caressed her plump