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was a battle between them, he was unquestionably the conqueror. Over and over he stroked into her mouth, kissing her with all the passion he could muster, and she was responding to him, making soft little noises in her throat, her hands digging into his hair.
    And then he pulled away from her, panting. “How was that? Better?”
    She stared up at him, her parted lips still wet from his kiss. “That,” she said, and her voice sounded breathy and sexy as hell, “was pretty damn good.”
    “So do you think I need more practice?”
    Her gaze went to his mouth as if she were considering it hard, and he felt a surge of masculine pride at her dazed expression. “Nah, I think you’re okay.”
    “Great.” He released her and was gratified when she stumbled, just a bit, as if she’d lost her balance without him propping her up. “You all right?”
    “I’m fine,” she said in that same breathless voice, then reached over and grabbed some Kleenex, offering it to him. “And you’re wearing my lip gloss.”
    “Maybe I should leave it on. Part of the charade and all.”
    She shook her head and moved forward to wipe it off him herself. “There’s a difference between charade and cross-dresser.”
    “Very funny.” He held still while her fingers moved over his mouth, the small gesture oddly intimate between the two of them.
    She winked at him, all mischief again. “I know. I’m a funny girl.”
    The moment was over, and gone with it, any awkwardness. “Shall we go to dinner, then?” He offered her his arm.
    She put her hand into the crook of his arm. “We taking my car?”
    “No, we’re taking mine. I told Pop that I’d misplaced the fuel pump switch. He got it fixed this afternoon.”
    “Misplaced, huh?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did he believe that?”
    “Not really.”
    She laughed, as if pleased with her sabotage. “It was either that or sugar in your gas tank.”
    “Brenna,” he said warningly.
    “I wouldn’t,” she said in a light voice. “Promise. Now, dinner?”

THREE
    H e was unable to stop staring at her all through dinner.
    The Brenna he normally worked with might have been a huge pain in the ass, but she could be charming when she wanted to be. She’d sat across from him, between his mother and his sister, and had dominated the conversation, telling everyone quite enthusiastically about the business and the number of clients they had, and some of the funnier stories that had come out of Wilderness Survival Expeditions so far. She’d even name dropped a little, detailing out some of their more successful and high-profile clientele, which his mother had been impressed with.
    And Grant had simply watched her in surprised pleasure. That Brenna would be easy with his family wasn’t so unthinkable—she didn’t have an unfriendly bone in her body. But that she would chat about the business and its success as if proud of it and him? He didn’t understand it.
    “I’m just glad you’re happy, son,” his father said in a low voice to him, and patted Grant on the back. “That’s all your mother and I have ever wanted.”
    “Business is going great,” Grant said, relaxing as they fell back on an easier topic. “We’re expanding what we offer so we can keep busy year-round, and I’m looking forward to what next year brings.”
    Reggie glanced at Brenna. “I meant her, son. But I’m glad the business makes you happy, too.”
    “Oh.” He nodded at his father, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Yes. Her also.”
    “So how did you two finally get together?”
    Grant took his eyes off the laughing, smiling Brenna and glanced back at his father. “Hmm?”
    The elder Markham grinned at his son. “She’s your secretary, right? How’d you two finally go from working together to dating?”
    “Oh. Uh.” Grant reached for his drink, his throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t given this much thought. Shit. They should have discussed this earlier, but instead, he’d been goading her into