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  He would be breathtaking.

  Sam, you have got to quit fantasizing. Boy-genius doesn’t even know you’re alive.

  Even though it was true, she wished things were different between them. Adrian was the first guy she’d ever met whom she really could see herself having kids with. She’d love to have a houseful of tall brainiacs who were fast on a comeback.

  It was a full ten minutes before Adrian finally logged off his computer. He got up to shrug on his faded blue ski jacket.

  “C’mon,” he said to her. “Let’s make a mad run for the door before someone catches me.”

  She laughed, knowing it wasn’t a joke.

  He locked his office, then they headed outside to the dimly lit parking lot.

  “Why don’t you ride with me?” he asked as she started for her silver Honda. “You’re the only person in the department who hasn’t ridden in the Vette.”

  Oh, don’t tempt me, you cruel man. She hadn’t ridden in his Corvette because she couldn’t stand the thought of being so close to him and not being able to touch that wonderful body. “Yeah, but you’ll have to bring me all the way back here.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Sam bit her lip as her pulse raced. Don’t do it! Don’t torture yourself.

  But one look at his chiseled features in the streetlight and she was hooked. “Okay,” she said with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

  He opened the passenger side door for her, then closed it after she got in. Sam drew a ragged breath at his consideration. She’d never had a man do that for her before.

  Adrian got in the other side, and she had to bite back a laugh at the sight of him cramming his long body into the car.

  “Don’t say anything,” he said as he put the key in the ignition. “Heather already told me I look like a grasshopper in a peanut shell.”

  She couldn’t help laughing at that. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat as she caught his sideways glare. “I wouldn’t have laughed if you hadn’t said that.”

  Sam leaned back in the black leather seat as she inhaled the warm, spicy scent of him. Good heavens, but that masculine smell made her giddy and hot. She would love nothing more than to lean over, cup the back of his neck with her hand, and kiss the daylights out of those full, sensuous lips.

  Adrian started the car and did his best to ignore just how good Sam looked sitting beside him. He ached to reach his hand over to where she had her legs slightly parted and caress her inner thigh.

  Oh, yeah, he could already feel the denim and her flesh in his palm. And then, he imagined where he’d like to take his hand next.

  Up her thigh to cup her between her legs.

  Grinding his teeth, he could see them locked in a kiss, feel her hands sliding over him as he undressed her.

  It had been a long time since he’d made out in a car, but for the first time since high school, he found the idea appealing.

  A surge of lust ripped through him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  She’d taken that stupid clip out of her hair and brushed her bangs with her hand so that now her hair fell around her face, framing it to perfection. And it was torturing him.

  Pulling out of the lot, he headed toward Hickory Hollow Mall. He hadn’t even gone a mile when he noticed Sam tensing in her seat. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She flinched as he changed lanes. “You know, Adrian, this isn’t a video game, and cars don’t evaporate if you hit them. Jeez, you drive like you have a death wish.”

  He laughed and backed off his speed. “Come on, half the fun of this car is pushing its limits.”

  She crossed herself. “I hope you have a good life insurance policy.”

  He did, but there wasn’t anyone to reap the benefits of it. And it was one of his biggest regrets. He’d never been the kind of guy to date much. Taking care of his mother, sister, and work left him very little time to socialize.

  Not that it mattered. As soon as he opened his mouth and said something, most women got a blank, dazed look on their faces and stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

  But not Sam. She understood even his most obscure references.

  “Adrian!” she snapped as a semi cut them off. “That’s a truck!”

  He hit the brakes. “Don’t worry, I don’t dare die before I put the Christmas press release up. And even if I did, I’m sure Randy would be at the funeral home with a laptop asking me to take care of some last-minute thing.”

  “You’re not funny,” she said, even though she was smiling. “Do you really have to go in later and do that?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Adrian pulled onto Bell Road. “Want to eat first?”

  “Sure.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Anything.”

  “How about Olive Garden?” he asked, knowing it was one of her favorites.

  “Sounds great.”

  Adrian pulled into the lot, then went to open the door for her. But by the time he got to her side, she was already getting out. She looked up and smiled. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

  “You have a hard time letting anyone do anything for you, don’t you?” he asked.

  “What can I say? My brothers broke me in well.”

  Adrian shook his head. “I can’t believe your mother didn’t nag them into doing more for you.”

  “She might have had she ever been home, but since she had to work all the time after my dad left, it was pretty much just us.”

  Adrian tucked his hands into his back pockets to keep himself from subconsciously reaching out to touch her.

  God, how he wanted her. She barely reached his shoulders and every time he stood this close to her, he had the worst desire to pick her up in his arms and bury his face in her neck where he could inhale the sweet scent of her skin.

  Clenching his teeth, he tried to banish the thought of laying her down on his bed, and spending the rest of the night exploring her body. Slowly. Meticulously.

  He opened the door to the restaurant and let her enter first. As she passed him, his gaze trailed down the back of her body and focused on her round hips. His groin instantly hardened. Thank God, he wore baggy jeans.

  The hostess led them to a booth in the back. Adrian hesitated as Sam sat down. His first impulse was to sit beside her, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. The only time he got to do that was when all of them went out to lunch, then he always made a point of being the one to sit closest to her.

  His gut tightening as another wave of desire hit him, he forced himself into the opposite booth.

  “It’s weird to be here without the guys,” she said as she glanced over the menu.

  Adrian stared at her as she read the menu. He didn’t know why she bothered since she always ordered the Manicotti Formaggio, and he loved the way she said it. It rolled off her tongue like smooth whisky.

  Sam tightened her hands on the menu as she felt Adrian’s gaze on her. Unnerved by its intensity, she tried to cross her legs, but ended up kicking him under the table. “I’m sorry,” she gasped as he grimaced.

  “It’s okay,” he said, reaching beneath the table to rub his leg. “I tend to take up a lot of space.”

  “Don’t knock it, I’d kill to be tall.”

  “I don’t know why. I think you’re a perfect size.”

  She glanced up at his unexpected compliment. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his menu.

  After they ordered, they sat in awkward silence.

  Sam sipped her drink as she tried to think of something to say to him. Normally, they never had a bit of trouble finding things to talk about and laugh over. But tonight, she was just a little too aware of him. A little too nervous about being alone with him, knowing there was no one here to see her if she were to reach over and touch his hand.

  No one to see if she . . .

  “Did you decide to call that guy about the programming position?” she asked, remembering the résumé he’d given he
r to review that morning.

  “I did, even though my first impulse was to toss it.”

  “Why?”

  “Dear Ms. Cole,” he said, curling his lip. “I hate it when someone gets my gender wrong. It’s the reason I called you so fast when you submitted your résumé. You’re the only one who hasn’t made that mistake. I knew you had to be brilliant.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, well, I have to say I was stumped, which is why I wrote ‘Dear Adrian.’ I figured you had to be a guy, since there are so few women programmers, but just in case you weren’t I didn’t want to tick you off.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he muttered bitterly. “It wasn’t bad enough she passed along the oh-so-wonderful color-blind genes, but she had to curse me with a godawful name to boot.”

  “If you hate it so much, why don’t you use your middle name?”

  “Because it’s Lesley.”

  Sam felt her jaw go slack. “Your mother named you Adrian Lesley Cole?”

  He nodded. “She really wanted a daughter. When the nurse told her she had a son, she told the nurse to check again. ‘That just can’t be right,’ ” he said in a falsetto, mocking a thick Southern accent.

  Was he serious?

  “You know,” she said. “I really like the name Adrian. I think it suits you.”

  He snorted. “Gee, thanks for the affront to my manhood.”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. There was absolutely nothing feminine about him, or his features. “You just have a classical, romantic look to you, like the hero from some period movie.”

  He looked a bit sheepish at her compliment. Sam dropped her gaze down to his hands again and watched the way he trailed the empty straw wrapper through his long fingers.

  Oh, she loved those hands of his.

  How she wished for the courage to reach over and cover them with hers. But she was terrified of what he might do. Terrified of him rejecting her, because in her heart, she knew she’d already fallen for him.

  She needed to be able to see him every day. Needed to feel his presence even if it was at a distance.

  No, she would never chance running him off. He was her boss, and she would have to satisfy herself with just being his friend.

  As soon as they finished dinner, Adrian drove them up the street to the mall. Sam led him through the men’s section of Dillard’s, looking for things she thought would be hot on him.

  She paused as she found a stack of button-fly jeans. “You know, these would look great on you.”

  Adrian didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. He hated button-fly, but if Sam liked them . . .

  “I need a thirty-two waist and a thirty-six inseam.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re tall.”

  He laughed. “I know and it’s a bitch to find them. But if you can locate a pair in this mess, I’ll try them on.”

  She did. Adrian tucked them under his arm as he followed her around and did his best not to be too obvious in his ogling of her.

  “You’re not going to put me in anything weird, are you?” he asked suspiciously as she stopped to look at a rack of V-neck sweaters. “I might not be able to see colors, but I know guys don’t wear pink, or pastels. And please, nothing in bright yellow because I can’t stand light-post jokes.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m thinking blacks and dark blues. Maybe red. You look really good in red.”

  He smiled. “Really? How good?”

  “Very good.” She plucked at his shirtsleeve. “But I don’t like your plaid shirts. They make you look like a lumberjack.”

  She’d noticed him! Adrian wanted to shout in happiness. He couldn’t believe she’d actually been looking at him.

  “So, what do”—he had to bite back the word you—“women want on a guy?”

  “Not those baggy jeans,” she said, looking at his rear and making him even hotter. Harder.

  His breathing tense, it was all he could do not to pull her to him and find out exactly what those lips of hers tasted like.

  “I don’t know who came up with the idea,” she continued, “but ew. Women like to see a man’s . . .”

  He arched a brow.

  “Never mind. I’m having a weird case of déjà vu.”

  “Why?”

  “I used to buy clothes for my brothers and we’d always get into similar discussions.” She ran her gaze over him. “No offense, but you could really use a makeover.”

  Adrian hesitated. Maybe if he let her, she might be a little more receptive to his . . .

  You’re her boss.

  Yeah, but he liked her more than he had ever liked any other woman. She made him laugh; made him happy every time she looked up at him.

  Better still, she made him burn.

  “You feel up to it?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  “You’d let me?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Sure, just so long as you don’t paint my fingernails pale pink.”

  She frowned at that. “What?”

  “Heather did that to me in high school as a joke. One night while I was sleeping, she sneaked into my room and painted my fingernails. I didn’t notice until I got to school the next day and people started laughing.”

  “Why is your sister so mean to you?”

  He shrugged. “She doesn’t mean any real harm. She’s just impulsive, and never seems to think before she acts.”

  Shaking her head, Sam searched through a rack of black button-down shirts as she thought about what he said. “She really painted your fingernails?”

  “Yup.”

  “My brothers would have killed me.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s my kid sister. My mom always said my one job was to protect her, not pulverize her.”

  Affected by his protectiveness, she reached out without thinking and touched his arm.

  Her heart stopped.

  Holy cow!

  Up until now, she’d thought he was on the skinny side like his sister, but there was nothing thin about that arm. His biceps were harder than a brick even while relaxed.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to distract herself from that delectable muscle. “Makeover with no nail polish.”

  Sam picked out several shirts and more jeans, then sent Adrian to try them on. She was busy looking through another rack when she felt someone behind her.

  Turning around, she froze. Adrian was standing at the mirror outside the dressing room with his sweater lifted while he tugged at the back of his jeans. “I don’t know about this,” he said.

  She only vaguely registered his words. Because she was captivated by him. The faded denim cupped a rear so tight and well formed that it made her ache to touch it.

  He was wearing a thin, black V-neck sweater that clung to his broad shoulders, biceps, and pecs. And worse, the hem of the sweater was lifted up to where she could see his hard, flat stomach and dark brown hairs curling becomingly around his navel.

  Oh . . . My . . . God! The man had the body of a well-toned gymnast. Why he had kept that yummy body hidden was beyond her.

  “Buddy, you got abs!” she said before she could stop herself.

  Adrian met her gaze in the mirror. “What?”

  She closed the distance between them and lifted the shirt hem a tad higher as she stared in awe at that body. “You got abs! A whole six-pack of them.” She looked up at him. “You didn’t get those on the computer.”

  “Well, no. I do other things on occasion.”

  No kidding!

  And right then, there was a whole series of other things she wanted to do to him. Starting with those hard abs and working her way up and down that luscious, tanned body. “If I were you, I’d burn all those baggy jeans and oversized shirts as soon as I got home.”

  “You like these jeans?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded.

  Suddenly, Adrian liked them, too. But what he liked most was the hunger he saw in her eyes, the feel of her hand against his stomach. It sent chills all over him.

  It was all h
e could do not to kiss her.

  Worse, an image of her lying naked beneath him tore through him. He shuttered his eyes as his breathing faltered. He wanted her so badly, he could already taste the moistness of her lips. Feel the softness of those full breasts in his hands.

  It was a such a raw, aching need that it sliced through him.

  Sam looked up and caught the heated look in his eyes. He had his lips slightly parted. And she became all too aware of the fact she was still holding his shirt in her hand, and was so close to his hard belly that she could feel his body heat.

  Her breasts tightened as a wave of lust singed her.

  Please kiss me!

  But he didn’t. He swallowed and took a step back.

  Sam sighed. What was she thinking? Smart, gorgeous guys like Adrian didn’t date short, fat co-workers. They were friends, plain and simple. There could never be anything between them.

  By the time they finished, Adrian was almost a thousand dollars poorer, but he had an entire new wardrobe. And if it would keep Sam staring at him like she was doing, he decided it was worth every penny.

  He changed into a new T-shirt, sweater, and jeans before they left.

  Their next stop was MasterCuts. “What’s wrong with my hair?” he asked as he sat down in the chair.

  “Nothing, Shaggy-Doo,” Sam said playfully as she brushed her hand through his hair. His entire body erupted into fire as he savored her light touch against his scalp. “I love the tawny color and curls. With the right cut, you would stop traffic.”

  Sam watched from the side of his chair as the beautician trimmed his silken curls into a shorter cut that looked incredibly sexy and stylish.

  Oh, yeah, now he was cooking. She stared in awe as the woman moussed his hair.

  “Now that is a great look,” Sam told Adrian. “You get rid of that goatee and watch out.”

  “Now you hate my goatee?” he asked, aghast.

  “For the record,” Sam said as she met his gaze in the mirror, “all women hate goatees.”

  The beautician concurred. “She’s right. They’re nasty.”

  Adrian stroked his goatee with his thumb. “Really? You don’t think it’s manly?”