Mad About You

booked a first-class seat on a direct flight to New York Monday night at eleven-thirty. He hung up with a smile of satisfaction on his face, but it was short-lived.
    His traitorous eyes strayed to the Woman box on the floor. Females were such complex creatures—changing moods at the drop of a hat, first giving, then withholding, seductive one minute, uptight the next—how did any man stick it out? The ones who did, didn't know any better, he decided, nodding to the Man box on the desk for support.
    They didn't know there was a world out there to travel, full of beautiful women and good food and wonderful adventures. Didn't know that admitting vulnerability to a woman meant transferring the power to her—the power to woo or wound, as she saw fit.
    He glanced back to the Woman box, remembering her curvaceous lines with a rush of pleasure, then bit down on the inside of his cheek. Kat's naked image rose up to mock him, the involuntary hardening of his sex a taunting reinforcement of his earlier observation of power flow between the sexes. The Maker had tempered a woman's package by coupling a vexing will with a tantalizing body. Which was the bottom line, really. Their trump card. They had what men needed, and all the cat-and-mouse games in between revolved around it.
    James dropped his head back on the pillows and ad mitted defeat to the ceiling fen. Then he pulled himself up, retrieved Woman and sat her on the desk next to Man. "They've got us, but good," he mumbled to his jade counterpart.
    He stepped back into his shoes, then walked to the door connecting their rooms and, after a few seconds' hesitation, knocked.
    It was nearly a minute before he detected movement on the other side. "Who is it?" she asked.
    Case in point, James noted wryly. "An arrogant man bearing apologies."
    Silence, then, "Apology accepted."
    He closed his eyes in frustration. "I'm leaving tomorrow night, Pussy-Kat."
    Several seconds of tense silence passed, then the lock on her door made a thwacking sound and she pulled open the door.
    James blinked. She wore a long, white sleeveless gown of thin knit, reminiscent of a floor-length fitted T-shirt. Except the innocence of the fabric and the demure neckline was corrupted by the deep armholes and thigh-high slit on either side. Her hair was captured in a low side ponytail, loosely gathered beneath her ear.
    "I was ready for bed," she said, her smile a bit shaky.
    All moisture had left his mouth. "So I see," he managed to croak.
    "So you're leaving tomorrow," she said, suddenly fascinated with the doorknob she held.
    He cleared his throat. "Yes, I, um...I'm no longer needed here."
    She glanced up, and he tried desperately to read her eyes. "You're not going to try to find the letter?"
    "Our friend in Chinatown will stand a much better chance than I."
    "And if it isn't located?"
    He shrugged. "Then Lady Mercer will collect a few thousand pounds from the insurance company and perhaps an asterisk next to her name in a book someday."
    Kat inhaled deeply, straining the nearly transparent fabric. Her nipples were clearly outlined, pebbled from the room's chill, he supposed. His body, indifferent to the cold that had triggered her reaction, began to harden in response to something else.
    She laughed softly. "This has been the most eventful three days of my life."
    His, too, but in a different way. James reached for her hand and twined her warm fingers with his, then leaned close, his body surging with desire, and whispered, "Let's top it off with an eventful night, shall we?"
    After a heartbeat's hesitation, she nodded and opened her mouth to accept his kiss. Within moments they were on her bed, tearing at each other's clothes. James told himself to wait, to love her with steeping slowness, a memory to savor in the months to come. But when she lay bare against him, beneath him, astride him, his restraint fled. Her mouth, hands, and silken passage tore the energy from his body with staggering speed and intensity. He gathered her against him and gasped, "Kat...Kat.... "
    She quieted and was soon breathing evenly beside him, her head tucked beneath his arm. Exhausted, but wide awake, he stared at her incredible breasts rising and falling until he felt the beginning of another erection and decided to get a drink of water.
    After easing from the bed, he padded across the room, retrieving his clothing on the way back to his room. There he tossed the garments on the bed, ran a glass of water in the bathroom,