“Call me,” Gia whispered in her ear as they hugged. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

Samara pulled back and gave her friend a hesitant smile. It had been so long since she’d shared personal things with a girlfriend. “I will,” she whispered back.

When she walked into the house a short while later, Travis was sitting on the couch in the den with his laptop on the coffee table in front of him. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a snug short-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his well-muscled chest and arms, his blond hair sticking up in all directions as if he’d been running his hands through it.

He looked up at her. “Hi. Have fun with your friends?”

“Yes.” The warm relaxation she’d felt earlier disappeared, replaced with tingling tightness at seeing Travis. “It was great to catch up with them.”

“Good.” He smiled.

She paused. “I’m going upstairs now to do some work.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. You’re going to do work now?”

“Sure.” She didn’t want him to think she was slacking off the very first evening he’d shared the financials with her. “I have a lot to get caught up on.”

“It’s okay to take a night off and have fun,” he said, his voice gentle.

The softness of his tone annoyed her. He wasn’t her parent or guardian or anyone who could give her permission to take a night off. What she did with her time was up to her. In her head she knew her annoyance was unreasonable, especially since she’d just wanted to impress him with her work ethic.

Dinner with her girlfriends had helped take her mind off the anger she’d felt at how Travis for keeping information from her before having that meeting. And how he’d wanted to have the meeting anyway. Now it rushed back to her, and she frowned at him. “Sure,” she said. “It’s all right for me when you’re the one who knows all about the business and will use that to take over. You just don’t want me to succeed, do you?”

He rose to his feet, his height and width imposing even though he stood across the room from her. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his shorts, shoulders raised, and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “That is not what I intended,” he snapped. “I gave you what you wanted. We postponed the meeting so you can get up to speed. And still, you’re acting like a spoiled child.”

Her eyes flew open wide, and her lips parted. He’d called her spoiled once before! What the hell? “What! Spoiled?”

He gave a jerky nod and moved toward her. His jaw tight, mouth firm, he stared at her. “You are the most stubborn, ungrateful little brat I’ve ever met.”

He stood close enough that she could see the dark golden stubble on his chin, the tiny mole on his left cheekbone, and each strand of hair in his thick, dark blond eyebrows. Her body quivered with anger and frustration and—dammit—arousal. Her hands tightened even more, short nails biting into her palms.

“Christ only knows why I—” His mouth snapped closed on his words, and he glared at her, blue eyes dark and flashing.

Why he what?

Sparks whipped around them, sparkling and stinging.

“Grow up, Samara,” he bit out.

That was so not fair, except, once again she’d come across differently than she’d intended. In trying to hide her fear and worry about how the company was really doing, she’d once again come across as petulant and sulky.

“I am grown up.” The feelings racing through her were far from childish, and she knew it was so, so bad, but her body ached to feel him, and without conscious thought, she stepped forward. At the same time, he too took a step, yanked his hands out of his pockets and reached for her.

His hand fisted in her long hair and pulled her head back. Sharp sensations cascaded from her scalp down over her entire body. Then they were kissing, mouths devouring each other, hot and wet and wicked. She pressed herself against him, her aching breasts flattened to his hard chest, her pelvis to his, where she felt the hard bulge beneath his shorts. Everything inside her dissolved into hot liquid, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tongues met, sliding, licking, tasting. She whimpered. He groaned. His hand slid across her back, pulling her closer, then lowered to the curve of her butt. Pleasure vibrated through her, fiery and electric.

She wanted to cry with frustration and confusion, cursing her body for wanting him even when she was trying so hard to be mad at him. “I don’t want this,” she moaned.

“I know.” He kissed her once more and she opened for him, helpless, letting his tongue slide into her mouth.

“This isn’t going to help.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “It’ll just make things worse.”

“I know,” he said again. He dragged his mouth away from hers and pressed his rough cheek to her face. “You are the most irritating, frustrating female,” he muttered. “Once again, I can’t do anything right. I thought I’d be making you happy by postponing the meeting, but no, you just suspect me of having ulterior motives.”

Her chest ached at the confusion in his voice, and she had a sudden inexplicable, crazy urge to tell him she wasn’t mad at him, that she was grateful he’d given her extra time as she’d asked before they had that meeting. A crazy urge to make him feel better.

The words trembled on her lips, but her damn stubbornness prevented her from saying them, and she closed her eyes and held on to him, their chests rising and falling in unison.

He took her face in both hands, cupping it, holding her away from him to look at her. Meeting his gaze was excruciating. She felt naked, exposed, vulnerable. Her lips trembled, and she blinked rapidly.

“Samara. Jesus, you make me crazy.” Travis’s own eyes closed briefly. “Christ, Parker would have my ass for this.”

She blinked again. What did that mean? But then Travis was kissing her again, holding her face with gentle but firm hands, tipping her head for the best, deepest angle, turning her body liquid all over again.

She set her hands on his waist, loving the warm, solid feel of him beneath the soft cotton T-shirt, and kissed him back, the room fading out to black around them. She felt like she was spinning in a slow vortex of sensation.

She sucked in a long deep breath. That kiss had weakened her knees and weakened her resolve to keep things businesslike between them. So many years of wanting him. And he wanted her too. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. “I have to ask,” he groaned. “Will you regret this tomorrow?”

“Oh, for god’s sake!” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him against her. “Would you just do it!” She kissed him hard on the mouth, and Travis’s mind went utterly blank. “You can’t do this to me again!” She shoved at his chest then yanked him back. “You humiliated me once before by rejecting me like this.”

Fucking hell. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. And he was definitely hard. Oh man. If he rejected her now, she was going to be hurt all over again. But if he didn’t reject her...Christ. What the hell was he supposed to do?

A feeling of déjà vu swept over him, a flash of Samara standing before him in the gazebo, mouth swollen from kissing him. This was exactly how he’d felt then—couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely see straight.

He tried to think it through, like a business decision, using logic and strategic thinking, but with his heart banging in his chest and his ears buzzing, it seemed impossible. Then she moved against him. And he gave up. Gave in. He wanted her too.

The relief of not having to fight with his conscience anymore made him lightheaded. “I want you,” Travis whispered against her lips. “God help me, but I want you.”

“Yes.”

Their eyes met and held, and this time, she kept her gaze steady and focused on him. Then she turned away from him, finding his hand with hers, clasping their fingers together, and she led the way up the stairs to her room.