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she said when he’d finally broken down her defenses. And so had he.
    He’d wanted her to desire him, but truthfully, whether she knew it or not, any man’s tender arms would do. The woman was wounded and aching for love, and it didn’t matter who Adrian was, or that he was the one who held her.
    But it had mattered to him. His eyelids slid closed as he envisioned all the pleasure he could have shown her, if she hadn’t had the decency to decline. No toys or tricks needed for this one; just deep, primal fucking. Stripping away her inhibitions alone would have been erotic enough to test his endurance.
    In response to the sultry thoughts sliding through his mind, his penis stirred and swelled to hardness. What was wrong with him today? He rarely thought about sex when he wasn’t working. With an ironic smile, he set aside his drink, loosened his belt and slid down on the chair, fingers slipping inside the placket of his pants to ease the pressure building in his cock. Not as gratifying as the soft touch of a woman’s hand, but enough to quicken his pulse until it pounded in hot, strategic places.
    The pressure increased to a relentless throb. He unfastened his fly, freed his erection, let his fingers trail over it until it jerked in demand of a firmer touch. A shudder of need went through him. God—when was the last time he’d needed this? It wasn’t the right way to start the work night, but suddenly his body demanded relief so desperately, he couldn’t think past the moment.
    His fingers curled around his shaft and stroked base to tip. Again. Again. Faster, driven by a wild, rising urgency. Billie Cort had awakened something hot and hungry within him, and a moment’s relief, unfortunately, would be just that.
    It didn’t matter, he told himself as pleasure stole the breath from his lungs. If this didn’t solve the problem, he’d work it off tonight. In a matter of hours he’d have all the satisfaction a man could want.
    Arching his head against the back of the chair, he gripped the armrest and braced himself against the coiling rapture while his other palm quickened its steady stroke. He 24

    The Fifth Favor
    had all night to exorcise his inexplicable desire for Billie. And when he saw her again, he’d do his damnedest to shield himself against the seductive, innocent appeal that made her such a rare objet d’art in his world.
    * * * * *
    They met again a week later, this time at a small café in the Adams Morgan section of Washington, where Billie would feel safe, buffered by the public’s presence.
    “I can’t afford to pay you for more than an hour this time,” she told him, skirting her gaze from his dark, piercing regard as he sat across from her. “The magazine’s footing the bill, and I’ve been allotted—”
    “This is my day off,” Adrian said, fingertips caressing the lip of his water goblet.
    Billie grimaced. “Does that mean you’re charging me time and a half?”
    “It means this hour is on me. No charge.”
    Billie sat in surprised silence before she spoke. “Azure said you’d never meet me on your day off.”
    “Azure was wrong.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “I enjoyed talking to you at Avalon, Ms. Cort, but things could have gone more smoothly if I’d understood how uncomfortable you were there.”
    “I wasn’t uncomfortable there.”
    Adrian’s smile widened. He didn’t need to point out the screaming falsity of that declaration.
    She shifted on her chair and murmured thanks to the busboy as he leaned to refresh their glasses with water. When they were alone again, she reached into her purse and withdrew a small notebook and pen. A strange tension constricted her throat, a mixture of dread and anticipation of the conversation to follow.
    Lying awake last night, envisioning this new exchange, she’d decided to come straight out and ask him the juicy stuff. He couldn’t twist the sexual tension between them and put her on the spot this time, not in such a public