She returned to her self-pep talk. Be prepared. Put your walls up now, just in case some unexpected orgasm threatens to knock them down. Just sex. Just professional sex between two consenting and—oh, God, didn’t professional mean hooking? Just unprofessional sex between colleagues.

She was already wet at the thought.

Gird your loins, Andy Dawson. This’ll be a doozy.

Feeling just as reassured as her sister—which was to say, not much—she topped her seductive outfit with a light coat she’d borrowed from Lacy. It was long-sleeved, pale pink, and gorgeous. The top was fitted like a corset, but the calf-length bottom swung freely in voluminous pleats. Best of all, it wasn’t stifling in the early-summer Boston evening.

Andy splurged on a cab. The thought of the cost made her a little queasy—especially since she planned to pay to have him wait for her while she did the deed—but she couldn’t call Darrin for a ride like she had when she’d delivered the puppy. Explaining her attire to her sister’s boss would be quite the story. Besides, she reminded herself, she was getting some bonuses in her next check.

Anyway, a girl in a nightie and a coat could hardly hop into a subway without being mistaken for a sex worker. An available sex worker, at that. The thought of the trouble that could cause made her queasier than the taxi bill. And she was already struggling with the difference between the job she’d taken upon herself and hooker. Was it better or worse than her previous self-declared status of pimp?

She didn’t dwell on the question. She also didn’t pause as she swung into the backseat of the cab and gave the driver her destination.

As they drove, she gazed past her reflection in the glass and out onto the dark Boston streets. Allowing her mind to wander once again, it went back to the same thing it always did lately when allowed free rein—the wine bar. It wasn’t just the kiss that stayed with her, though that was a highlight of the evening. There was more—a glimpse of Blake that had seemed almost warm and compassionate despite his self-centered behavior and egotistical nature. It intrigued her, drew her back to the memory again and again.

She had convinced herself that the man who had rescued her that night was an anomaly. That he didn’t really exist anywhere but in that brief moment in time. She could have entertained dating that man. Not that she’d seen him since, but surely he must be somewhere inside the boss that she faced every day—inside the hot alpha who constantly drove her insane with his maddening personality and his irresistible form. How was it possible to be so magnetically attached to someone whose neck she wanted to wring so badly?

Swearing not to have any physical contact with Blake in the weeks that had followed had done nothing to erase the attraction she felt every time her eyes accidentally grazed his crotch. But the thought of dating someone that self-involved made her ill. Good thing sex wasn’t the same as dating. In fact, for Blake Donovan, sex seemed to be the end to dating. Perhaps this planned tryst of hers would solve quite a few of their problems, including ending the crackle of energy that arced between them whenever they were in the same room.

At least, it would end it from his side. Whether she’d also get him out of her system remained to be seen. Why did she suddenly feel sad about her impending seduction?

She shook the emotion off and refocused her gaze on the ghostly image of herself reflected back in the taxi window. Lacy’s right—that doesn’t look like me at all. She slipped out of the coat and looked again. Still not her.

A moment passed as she debated whether that was a good thing or not. If she didn’t feel like herself, it would make the whole event more disconnected. That was a good thing. It made it more likely that she’d be able to walk away with her senses in order. Plus, I’ll have his missing puzzle pieces to work with. That was the main reason she was doing this. She had to remember that. Though, truthfully, his puzzle pieces took a backseat to his other pieces—such as his hands, his lips. His … lower region.

The more Andy thought about it the more excited she got. Might as well admit it full on—the man made her gaga. She’d been turned on by his body since the moment she’d first seen him. She just hadn’t been able to reconcile her desire with his ugly personality. But now that she’d gotten to know him better, she wondered if perhaps her definition of ugly was a little too harsh for the man.

Either way, she felt good about her seduction plan. By not sleeping with him, she was acknowledging there was a connection there. Finally. But by making that connection after hours, in well, costume, really, and by using it to lull him into answering the kind of personal questions she needed, Andy was using her horniness in a practical manner. She’d even go as far as to say responsible.

So maybe it was the biggest justification she’d ever made in her life. Second biggest—what she’d done to Max’s office after he’d fired her probably still took the cake. But there was no way seducing Blake could turn out as horrible as that.

Could it?

*   *   *

When the doorbell rang, the sleeping puppy in Blake’s lap stirred but didn’t bark. He called for his housekeeper to answer it while he considered the dog. He really was a good animal—quiet and cuddly, qualities Blake would rather like to see in a wife. Of course the creature could also be feisty and playful and that was all right, too. More than all right, actually. It was sweet. Entertaining. Endearing, even.

Somewhat like Drea.

Dammit, was he growing attached to the thing?

The puppy, not the woman. Though, if he was honest, he might be growing attached to that second one as well.

He pushed that thought from his mind. Much safer to focus on his attachment to the four-legged thing than on the two-legged one that had that very day rejected his advances. At least Puppy hadn’t rejected him. Maybe that was why he still hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of it. Even though he’d told Drea he was going to, somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to fire it.

The bell rang again. This time he glanced up at the grandfather clock in his living room and realized his housekeeper had gone home more than two hours before. Good God, it was after nine p.m. Who would be visiting at that time of night?

With more than mild curiosity, he set down his glass of scotch and propped his detective novel open on the coffee table. He picked up Puppy with him as he stood, then set the dog in the warmth of the spot he’d just evacuated.

“Stay,” Blake ordered before tightening his robe and heading for the door. “Coming,” he called out to his mysterious guest.

Before he unlocked the dead bolt, he peeked out the peephole but was only met with a woman’s straight auburn hair. She was facing back toward his driveway and all he could see was her backside. Hmm. A woman was harmless enough. And the backside was enticing. He undid the lock and opened the door.

“May I help—”

His words cut off when the woman turned toward him.

He could hardly contain his surprise at her face. It was Andrea. Completely made up. In what he could only assume was supposed to be a nightgown beneath a ridiculous pink coat-thing.

“Blake—” Her mouth gaped as if she had more to say but had gotten stuck on her next words.

He understood the feeling. Seeing her standing on his doorstep with her eyes decorated to look like she was about to go clubbing and her hair lying flat and lifeless around her face—well, it rendered him speechless. A surge of excitement raced through him as he realized the intent of her visit, enough to get his cock stirring in his pajama bottoms, but the intensity of his interest was overwhelmed by the hilarity of her appearance. She looked so gaudy. So overdone. So not Andy.