Why Not Tonight?

1

One week before the blackout

ADAM CLAYTON LOOKED around the photo studio and asked himself what the devil he was doing. It was one thing to help out Nick with paperwork while his buddy was at the hospital about to become a new dad, but there was no way Adam could actually take the photos for the appointments booked into Nick’s studio today. He was a stockbroker, not a photographer. Or at least he used to be a stockbroker. Now he was a…

He dragged his hands through his hair. What exactly was he? Career-wise, he didn’t know, and it had become increasingly clear to him every day since leaving Wall Street two months ago that, while he’d accomplished his goal of minimizing the health-threatening stress in his life, he didn’t like not knowing what he was. Who he was. Where his life was heading. For a guy who’d always defined himself by his career, he now felt like a ship without a port.

He frowned. Surely this disquiet was only temporary. He just needed more time to get used to being out of the rat race. Still, it was difficult for him not to have a grasp on things. He’d always been so disciplined, his schedule so regimented, his time so consumed with work, that he was finding it a real challenge to take it easy.

He missed the passion and energy his hectic, frenetic work had inspired. He needed to find another outlet for that energy and passion-something that would bring him the same sense of satisfaction but wouldn’t make him face another health scare like the one he’d recently experienced. Nothing quite as sobering as a grim-faced cardiologist asking him if he wanted to end up like his father. Which he sure as hell did not. Lying on that gurney, with all those monitors beeping around him, had been a major wake-up call. He’d realized then and there that he needed to change his life-now. Not at some nebulous point in the future. So, two weeks after those chest pains had landed him in the emergency room, one month after his thirtieth birthday, he’d officially “retired” from Wall Street. He had no intention of becoming a statistic and leaving behind a young wife and family like his workaholic, stockbroker father had.

Now, with nothing and no one to worry about except himself, he was finally free to do some of the things he’d always wanted. Things he’d never had the time to do. Top of the list-three months in Europe. During college, he’d twice planned to spend the summer trekking around Europe, but on both occasions his plans had been thwarted. First time courtesy of illness. Talk about a lousy time to catch mono. Second time…

He blew out a deep breath and forced back the barrage of memories that threatened to sneak out of the place where he kept them carefully locked away. Second time he’d cancelled because he’d fallen wildly, passionately in love and hadn’t wanted to spend one minute, let alone the entire summer, away from her.

He shook his head to dispel the image that rose in his mind’s eye of the laughing, smiling girl who’d so thoroughly captured his heart that long-ago summer. His gaze fell upon the photo on Nick’s desk-an eight-by-ten of a smiling Nick and Annie on their wedding day two years ago-and a wave of undeniable envy washed through Adam. Maybe he didn’t know what sort of new career he wanted, but one thing he definitely did know-he wanted the kind of loving, happy relationship Nick and Annie shared. The same kind his parents had shared…until his father’s death.

But not just yet.

No, first he planned to enjoy this time off-the first he’d had in years, and indulge in his lifelong dream of seeing the world-at something less than warp speed. Except for the Caribbean, he’d never traveled outside the United States. And he’d never been anywhere for more than three days at a time. Growing up, his family’s vacations had consisted of quick jaunts over two-or three-day weekends when the stock exchange was closed. Due to the Clayton family vacation time constraints, the rule was their destination couldn’t require more than a three-hour flight or a four-hour drive.

Since he was a kid, he’d always wanted to go somewhere far away and stay there for more than thirty-six hours. Bask in the culture, take his time to explore the intricacies of a single city. As of yet, it hadn’t happened. With his crazy work schedule, he hadn’t taken a vacation of any length in more than five years. Now he had his chance and nothing was going to stop him from snatching the brass ring he’d waited so long to grab.

Yet, except for his travel plans, he hadn’t made any definite decisions about what direction he now wished to head. The answer was out there, yet it frustratingly remained just beyond his reach, whispering that if he just stretched a little bit farther, the solution would come to him. At some point he’d have to make a decision, but thanks to careful financial planning, that point wasn’t right now. And with six months left on the lease on his Manhattan apartment, he didn’t need to worry about moving just yet. Which was good as he had no idea where he planned to live-other than to know it would no longer be in fast-paced Manhattan.

So, in the meanwhile, he’d do what the doctor ordered. Rest. Relax. Toss off his all-work, no-play persona and embrace the carefree, bachelor lifestyle. Hook up with a bevy of gorgeous women. Not that he’d lived like a monk before-but he’d certainly devoted a hell of a lot more time to his job than to his social life. A few years down the road, after he’d seen the world, made up for lost dating time and had a new career going, then he’d start looking around for Ms. Right.

You found her once, his inner voice chimed in slyly. You had her. But you let her get away…

The mental picture he’d only moments ago successfully blocked now broke through his carefully erected barriers and a vivid image of Mallory Altman rose in his mind, filling him with the same sense of loss and regret the thought of her always brought.

Had ten years really passed since they’d first met? Nine years since that unforgettable summer when their friendship had caught fire and flared into a steaming love affair? Yes, although when he allowed himself to think about that summer, the memories remained so clear, so vivid, it didn’t seem possible it had happened so long ago.

To this day, if he closed his eyes, he could still hear her infectious laugh. See her teasing grin. He’d loved her sense of humor, the magical way she could turn even the dullest chore into something fun. He’d fallen hard…so hard that the depth of his feelings had scared the crap out of him. Yeah, he’d had her, but the timing had been wrong. For both of them.

They’d been too young, his emotions too intense. She’d just turned eighteen and was headed off to a university hundreds of miles away, while he was only twenty-one, a new college grad about to start his Wall Street career. When he’d found himself thinking about forever-about marriage, kids and a mortgage, panic swamped him and he suggested they take a break. See other people. She’d agreed and he’d breathed a huge sigh of relief.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize he’d made a mistake, but it had been long enough for her to find someone else. And to make it clear that Adam was now “just a friend.” Losing her, realizing that her feelings hadn’t run anywhere near as deep as his had hurt like a jagged blade through his heart.

They’d briefly run into each other a few times after that, but each time they’d been involved with other people. He hadn’t seen her in five years. Still, the image of her gorgeous smile and warm, chocolaty brown eyes remained as vibrant as ever. The last he’d heard about her had been three years ago when he’d seen an announcement in the paper that she’d gotten engaged.

An odd, unsettling numbness had invaded his chest at the news, and all the memories he’d so firmly locked away had ambushed him. The first time he’d seen her. First time he’d touched her. Kissed her. Made love to her. The last time he’d touched her…and all those touches in between. He’d tortured himself, letting down his guard to recall those incredible few weeks that had been the happiest of his life. Then he’d mentally wished her well and forced her from his mind-a feat he managed fairly well most of the time.

Now, he roughly shoved aside her image. Mallory was the past. His future was spread before him like a bachelor banquet filled with desirable women, no-strings sex, the European trip he’d always dreamed of, more desirable women and even more no-strings sex. He’d worked hard and now it was time to decompress and reap some benefits.

A bell tinkled, indicating that someone had entered the storefront, yanking him from his reverie. Must be the one o’clock appointment. As Nick had dashed out this morning after Annie’s call announcing she was in labor, he’d asked Adam to reschedule the day’s appointments. He’d been able to contact everyone except the one o’clock and two o’clock slots. Hopefully they’d both be understanding about the lack of photographer. He didn’t want to lose any customers for Nick in his absence.

Exiting the studio, he made his way down the short hallway toward the front of the store. When he entered the main room, he saw a dark-haired woman wearing a sleeveless turquoise dress standing in front of the glass-top counter, her back to Adam.

“Hi,” he said, striding forward with a smile.

She turned and whatever else he’d planned to say drained from his head as his footsteps faltered, then stopped. And damn, it felt as if his heart did the same. Her brown eyes widened and she looked nearly as stunned as he felt. He wouldn’t have believed she could look better than what his memory conjured up, but she did. More beautiful. More desirable. More tempting. And real.

How ironic, since timing had played such a pivotal role in their relationship and its demise, that she should walk through the door just when he’d been thinking about her.

Walking toward her, he cleared his throat to find his voice and spoke words he’d never thought he’d have the opportunity to say again.

“Hi, Mallory.”

“BRING YOUR KNEE up a little higher. Ooooh, yeah. Right there. Mallory…that’s perfect.”

Mallory Altman shifted on the smooth ivory satin sheets, the material cool and slick against her overheated body. She felt like an overripe peach about to burst from its too-tight skin. Certainly not the way she’d anticipated feeling this afternoon. But then, she hadn’t anticipated finding herself in Adam Clayton’s company.

Even after not seeing him for five years, the sound of his deep, husky voice still shivered tingles down her spine. Good thing she was lying down because her knees felt positively mushy. Yet she’d felt mushy since the moment she’d so unexpectedly set eyes on him. She couldn’t deny that over the past five years she’d found herself wondering if or when she might see him again. But never, not even in her wildest fantasies, had it ever occurred to her that it would happen like this.

She’d been so stunned to see him she’d barely managed to ask him what he was doing here, of all places. Left his job on Wall Street, he’d replied, much to her amazement, and was pitching in at Picture This to help out his best friend, Nick, whose wife had gone into labor that morning. There’d been little time for more conversation-she had a client to see in an hour, and he had another appointment. Once she’d changed into her lingerie for her boudoir-pictures photo shoot, everything had just moved so quickly, and talking had been the last thing on her mind.

Still, surely it was only this provocative situation that had her in this aroused state-and nothing to do with Adam himself. After all, what they’d shared together was long over. Besides, what woman wouldn’t find herself aroused by lying on satin sheets, wearing exquisitely expensive silk lingerie while being photographed by a sexy, gorgeous man?

He’d always been attractive-not handsome in a pretty-boy, conventional way-but in a ruggedly masculine way that made it seem as if he spent all his time outdoors rather than on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. With his thick dark hair and deep blue eyes, she’d liked the look of him the instant she’d laid eyes on him ten years ago.

An image flashed in her mind of the first time she’d seen him. She’d been seventeen and sulky, convinced her life was over because she and her mom had just relocated-for the sixth time in twelve years-from Chicago to Long Island, New York, forcing her to attend her upcoming senior year of high school at a new school. She’d prayed that her mother’s position with the orchestra in Chicago would last just one more year, but no such luck.

As a professional cellist and financially strapped single mother, Emily Altman moved to whichever city’s orchestra made her the best offer. Because of their transient lifestyle and the fact that money was forever tight, they’d always lived in apartments-until the move to Long Island where, as a concession to Mallory for leaving her friends and steady boyfriend, her mom had splurged and rented a small house. For Mallory, the profound sense of stability, of permanence, she’d felt at finally living in a house had almost made up for having to move again. She’d actually considered staying in Chicago, living with a girlfriend’s family to finish out her last year of high school, but in the end she just couldn’t let her mom go alone. Since Mallory’s father had walked away before she’d been born rather than accept the responsibility of a pregnant girlfriend, Mallory and her mom had always been the two musketeers. So she’d packed up and moved. Again. And had met Adam.

He’d been twenty and friendly, home for the summer after completing his junior year of college. He’d been mowing the lawn at her house. At the ungodly hour of 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday. She’d been tempted to hurl a shoe out her bedroom window at him, but then he’d looked up and smiled at her and whammo-suddenly New York wasn’t looking so bad. A friendship and easy camaraderie had been born. He’d made her laugh, and had amazed her when he said he’d lived in the same house his entire life. A year later, their friendship caught fire and for a beautiful, brief time, had burned out of control. A decade after that first meeting, his smile still had the power to affect her.

“Think about what you want to do to your lover,” Adam said softly, jerking her attention back to the present. He looked at her through the lens of his Nikon and adjusted the focus. “Think about what you want your lover to do to you.”

A memory, sharp and poignant, instantly materialized in Mallory’s mind…of that incredible summer…of the first time they’d made love. Adam, scooping her up in his strong arms, his blue eyes hot with want as he carried her to his bed. She’d wanted so badly to touch him, taste him. And wanted him to do the same to her.

She’d been a virgin and nervous, expecting awkwardness, but they’d laughed over their brief fumbles, and then…pure magic. His hands…God, she remembered his hands so well…large and calloused, skimming down her body, touching her everywhere, followed by his lips, which had proved as magical as his hands. Her hands and mouth exploring him. Hot skin, murmured words, tangled sheets. And the way he’d looked at her, with such desire, reverence and need as he’d slowly entered her.

She was vaguely aware of the shutter snapping, but all her focus, all her concentration, was on the memories washing over her. And the fantasy of experiencing that heat with him again.

And that was really…

Bad. Wrong.

And damned inconvenient.

She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Greg-the man she should be thinking about. Greg. Her boyfriend. The man for whom she was having these provocative boudoir pictures taken. Her plan had been to reignite their stalled love life with a gift of these photos. Yet ever since she’d walked into the studio and discovered to her shock and consternation that Adam would be taking the pictures, her fine plan had disintegrated like steam in a wind storm. And speaking of steam…she felt as if it were pulsing from her every pore.

“Roll onto your side,” Adam said, “and let the strap of your teddy fall off your shoulder…that’s it. Now shake your head and wet your lips…perfect. You’re beautiful, Mallory. Stunning. And sexy as hell.”

You’re beautiful, Mallory. Another memory slammed into her. A hot summer night. Adam’s parents away for the weekend. Skinny-dipping in Adam’s pool. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his erection buried so deep in her body she didn’t know where she ended and he began. His fingers slowly tracing her features as if trying to memorize them. His husky words whispering over her wet skin…You’re beautiful, Mallory.

Blinking away the image, she managed to say, “I bet you say that to all the women you photograph.”

He looked at her over the camera and she felt the impact of his regard all the way down to her feet. “No, I don’t.”

Heat seeped through her, and suddenly she felt beautiful. Stunning. Sexy. In that way he’d somehow always made her feel. A way she hadn’t felt for a long time. If she had felt that way, she most likely wouldn’t be here, trying this last-ditch effort to resuscitate her and Greg’s sex life. But Adam’s praise echoed in her ears, encouraging her to push aside her inhibitions.

Staring into the camera, into the place where she knew his dark blue eyes looked at her through the lens, she slowly rolled to her side, then rose to her knees, reveling in the cool slide of the black silk teddy against her heated skin, the delicious friction of the sheer stockings and lacy garter belt against her legs.

Do you remember, Adam? The question whispered through her mind. Are you recalling, as I am, the way it was between us? How we couldn’t keep our hands off each other? How you used to love to touch my hair like this…?

Lifting her hands, she sifted her fingers through her loose hair, envisioning Adam…er, Greg-no, damn it, it was Adam-approaching her, lowering his head to kiss her. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted, anticipating the brush of his lips, the delicious sweep of his tongue, and again memories swept through her, of the first time he’d kissed her.

She’d gone to his house, intending to casually mention she’d broken up with her boyfriend, hoping Adam might ask her out. He’d answered the door dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair shower-damp, his skin smelling clean and fresh. He’d looked so delicious she’d nearly forgotten how to speak. Heart pounding, she’d told him her news. No sooner had the words passed her lips than he’d cupped her face between his hands, whispered Thank God, and then kissed her. A long, slow, deep, knee-weakening kiss that left no doubt he’d been experiencing the same pull of attraction as she. When he’d finally ended the kiss, he’d looked as dazed as she’d felt.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he’d asked.

“How long?”

“I met you a year ago, so…a year.”

His confession had thrilled her and made her wish she’d broken up with her boyfriend a lot sooner. She’d smiled and pulled his head toward hers. “Seems we have a lot of time to make up for,” she’d whispered against his lips.

“That’s the end of the last roll.”

At the sound of Adam’s deep voice, Mallory’s eyes popped open, dispelling the memory. He stepped from behind the camera and regarded her with an indecipherable expression.

The spell broken, heat crept up Mallory’s neck, although why she should be embarrassed puzzled her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she was trying to do something right. For Greg. Reliving memories, fantasizing, was perfectly normal. Still, she sent up a mental prayer of thanks that Adam couldn’t read minds. Or Greg, for that matter.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if Adam’s mind had been filled with similar sensual images while he’d snapped the photos. Probably not. The sexual fire that had burned between them had been short-lived and died out long ago. And while he held a special place in her heart since he’d been her first, the devastating ease with which he’d ended their relationship left no doubt she’d amounted to little more than a notch on his bedpost.

And now, here he was. Looking even more incredible than when she’d last seen him. And here she was. Wearing the three hundred dollars worth of La Perla lingerie she’d purchased to entice another man. A man named…um, Greg. Right. Greg.

With a self-conscious cough, she looked around for her robe. Perhaps Adam could read minds-not a comforting thought-because he plucked the pink terry-cloth garment from the chair next to his camera then walked toward her.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the robe, his eyes alight with the hint of mischief she so vividly recalled, “although it’s a shame to cover up that lingerie.”

Whew! Who the heck had turned on the heat? Didn’t this room have air-conditioning? It was July for cryin’ out loud. Even though she already felt as if she were melting, she quickly slipped on the thick robe, wrapping the material around herself and belting the sash.

Ah, that was better. Feeling much more in control now that she was covered from neck to shin and it was no longer noticeable that her nipples were erect, she slid from the mattress and stood before him. Even though a respectable six feet separated them, she had to brace her knees to keep from backing up to put more distance between them.

There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him-about his life, what he’d been doing for the past five years-but a quick glance at the wall clock indicated she had no time to socialize before meeting her client. In fact, she’d have to move if she didn’t want to be late.

“When will the pictures be ready?” she asked, proud that she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

“The proofs should be done within a week. I’ll call you when they’re finished.” He rested his hands on his Levi’s-clad hips, and Mallory pretended her peripheral vision wasn’t working. Pretended she didn’t notice how his splayed fingers seemed to point toward his groin. Pretended it wasn’t obvious how great he looked in those jeans, which, based on the fascinating fade patterns, were old favorites. Of course, she’d also seen him wearing a suit and tie and he’d looked mighty fine in that, too. She suppressed a feminine sigh of pure appreciation. He was just that sort of guy-looked great no matter what he wore. Actually, as she well knew, he looked great wearing nothing at all.

“Earth to Mallory…you okay?”

She blinked. “Uh, yeah. Fine.” She took two jerky steps back, toward the dressing room where she’d left her clothes. “I’d better get dressed.” With that she turned and walked swiftly across the room.

After emerging five minutes later, feeling much more in control now that she was fully clothed, her sexy lingerie folded in her shopping bag, she made her way to the front of the studio. Adam stood behind the counter, writing on a pad next to the phone. When her heels clicked on the ceramic-tile floor, he looked up. Their gazes met and Mallory’s footsteps nearly faltered.

Whoa. He packed a powerful wallop with a mere look. But then, he always had. Probably because of those gorgeous blue eyes that could change from teasing to intense in a heartbeat. The way he used to look at her, as if he could see into her soul…she gave herself a mental shake. It was better she not think about it. Adam was her past-and that’s where he needed to stay.

He stepped from behind the counter. They met in the middle of the floor and he walked with her to the door. “It was great seeing you again, Mallory.” He shot her a wicked, teasing smile and waggled his brows. “Especially seeing so much of you.”

Heat rushed into Mallory’s face. She nearly said that if she’d had the slightest inkling that he would have been taking her pictures, she would have chosen a different photography studio, but the words died in her throat. Not only did they sound unintentionally insulting, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that they might not be true.

“It was great seeing you, too, Adam.” She imitated his brow waggle. “Even if you saw more of me than I saw of you.”

Mischief, along with an unmistakable flash of interest, glittered in his eyes. “Perhaps on this particular occasion. Still, it’s a problem that could have been solved like that.” He snapped his fingers.

This time heat whooshed downward, warming Mallory all the way to her toes. “Not a good idea when one is taking pictures, I imagine,” she said, matching his teasing tone. “I think that’s called double exposure.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry we didn’t have much of a chance to catch up.”

“Me, too. I would have loved to hear all about this big career change you’ve made.”

“And I’d have loved to hear how your real-estate business is going and about this guy you had these pictures done for. He’s a lucky man.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe when you pick up your proofs you’d like to grab a cup of coffee together?”

A perfectly casual invitation that absolutely should not have revved her heartbeat the way it did. He was an old friend, for goodness sake. Nothing more. They’d had coffee together dozens of times. Obviously spending an hour in the afternoon wearing sexy lingerie had had a strange effect on her libido. To refuse would make it seem as if she placed too much importance on an offhand invite. “That sounds nice, Adam.”

“Great. I’ll call you when the proofs are ready.” He smiled and opened the door for her.

“Talk to you soon,” she said, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. She actually welcomed the blast of inferno-like July heat that engulfed her because it gave her something on which to blame her discomfort. Walking quickly to her car, she slid behind the wheel. She’d driven three blocks before her breathing returned to normal-a fact she refused to examine too closely for fear of discovering the reason.

Her life was finally exactly the way she wanted it. Stable. Secure. No more moving around the country, no more living in apartments. Her career was in high gear, and she’d recently achieved a milestone goal and bought her first house. She had a steady boyfriend who had a steady job-yup, everything was perfect and…steady.

Okay, maybe things weren’t perfect with Greg, but she’d kissed enough frogs to know that he had prince potential. He provided the stability she’d always craved, and she was willing to work on the things that needed some polishing-like their sex life. Hey, not every guy could be like Adam Clayton in bed. Actually, she’d finally forced herself to admit that no guy would ever be like Adam Clayton in bed.

The last thing she wanted, or needed, was someone to rock the steady little boat she’d worked so hard for. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Nine years ago, Adam had capsized her. She wasn’t about to give him the chance to do it again.