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hers. When they touched, every part of her body, every part of her mind, blurred into one driving need to merge with the man who made her insane.
    Her heart was pounding in her chest—what was she doing? Jason was too much of a risk. She thought about him too often, too intensely, to keep her heart from getting involved. And, worse yet, the reality of him had exceeded her fantasies by far.
    Her phone rang. The muffled digital trill of “Here Comes the Bride” sounded from somewhere beneath the mush of cake and cream, indicating that Connie was the caller. Laine's head snapped up, her eyes wide. She was buck-naked, sprawled atop the sleeping form of Jason Henley in what could only be described as a ruined prep room at the Henley Hotel. The remains of the cake were embedded in the carpet and her every nook, cranny and crease.
    What in the hell had she been thinking?
    Frantic her boss somehow sensed that Laine had taken the perilous path and fallen into bed—er, on the floor—with their number one partner in the wedding industry, Laine was desperate to clarify to her—to anyone—the one-time nature of the whole thing. Pushing up on hands and knees astride Jason's prone form, she tried to crawl off him. Her knee slid out and her elbow jutted into his rib.
    "Umph..."
    "Shit—shit!” she squeaked, digging through cake and clothing. Jason's warm hand pressed against her back as he pulled her down to lave a wet kiss over her nipple before sucking the rosy tip into his mouth. “Shi—mmm,” She arched back and her nipple escaped the suction. “Jason, damn it, I need that phone. It's Connie calling. I have to explain."
    "Okay, okay. Find your phone. Talk to Connie.” Jason sat up and helped Laine get off him. “Sounds like it's coming from that pile of mush next to the cart."
    Laine crawled through the soggy mess and felt her way until she encountered the slim phone. She flipped it open with a small spray of sugar sludge and answered breathlessly. “Connie, I'm here. Sorry, I couldn't—"
    Connie's smoke-worn voice snapped through the phone with more force than her two-pack a day Virginia Slims habit should have allowed. She wasn't happy and she wasn't mincing words. This was a fuck-up in her book, and she had a strict policy of three strikes and you're out. This was Laine's second.
    After a few minutes of listening to Connie's tirade, Laine swallowed hard and found her voice. “Connie, you are absolutely right, and I take full responsibility for dropping the ball here. I should have been on him more. Okay, I'll see you in—” She looked down at her body and the tendrils of hair smeared with frosting. “Tomorrow ... Yes, it's going to take me a while to clean up a few details here ... Okay, see you then."
    Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Jason reclined against a toppled chair—his chiseled body streaked with soggy cake and frosting. He was so perfect. She wanted to crawl over and lick him from head to toe, detouring in the middle until he came in her mouth. How could a man with a glob of buttercream above his ear look so damn sexy?
    Shaking her head clear, she smiled and, working at a casual sound, winked at him. “Thanks, I needed that."
    Jason's brow furrowed a bit, and then he shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. “Welcome. So how about a shower and something in a size six, maybe, from the boutique?"
    "Wow, you really are full service. I don't suppose you have any idea how I might get to a shower without being seen by the staff?"
    "Sorry, can't guarantee that for you, but the elevators are just around the corner. Let's get the table drape from under the cake here, and we'll wrap it around you. Do you want the dress and shoes on or are you going buff underneath? Buff is my preference, but I'd keep you that way every minute of the day if I could, so you might want to decide for yourself."
    The way he looked her over had her body responding with a renewed pulse of need. She wanted to feel him buried inside