Mind Over Matter

They slid firm and strong up her back. “You should be very concerned with me.”
    “I want you to—”
    “I’m becoming an expert on what you want.” His mouth brushed hers, retreated, then brushed again. “Do you know yourbreath starts trembling whenever I do that.” His voice lowered, seductive, persuading. “Then your body begins to tremble.”
    Weak, weaker than she should have been, she lifted both hands to his chest. “David, we have an agreement. It’s business hours.”
    “Sue me.” He kissed her again, tempting, teasing as he slipped his hands under her jacket. “What are you wearing under here, A.J.?”
    “Nothing important.” She caught herself swaying forward. “David, I mean it. We agreed.” His tongue traced her bottom lip. “No mixing—ah—no mixing business and…oh, damn.” She forgot business and agreements and responsibilities, dragging his mouth to hers.
    They filled her, those wild, wanton cravings only he could bring. They tore at her, the needs, the longings, the wishes she knew could never be met. In a moment of abandon she tossed aside what should be and groped blindly for what might be.
    His mouth was as hard, as ravenous, as if it were the first time. Desire hadn’t faded. His hands were as strong, as possessive and demanding, as ever. Passion hadn’t dimmed. It didn’t matter that the room was small and smelled of old coffee and stale cigarettes. Their senses were tangled around each other. Perfume was strong and sweet; tastes were dark and exotic.
    Her arms were around his neck; her fingers were raking through his hair. Her mouth was hungry and open on his.
    “Oh, excuse me.” Clarissa stood in the doorway, eyes lowered as she cleared her throat. It wouldn’t do to look too pleased, she knew. Just as it wouldn’t be wise to mention that the vibrations bouncing around in the little room might have melted lead. “I thought you’d like to know they’re ready for me.”
    Fumbling for dignity, A.J. tugged at her jacket. “Good. I’ll be right in.” She waited until the door shut, then swore pungently.
    “You’re even,” David said lightly. “You caught her—she caught you.”
    Her eyes, when they met his, were hot enough to sear off a layer of skin. “It’s not a joke.”
    “Do you know one thing I’ve discovered about you these past few days, A.J.? You take yourself too seriously.”
    “Maybe I do.” She scooped her purse from the sofa, then stood there nervously working the clasp. “But has it occurred to you what would have happened if a member of the crew had opened that door?”
    “They’d have seen their producer kissing a very attractive woman.”
    “They would have seen you kissing me during a shoot. That’s totally unprofessional. Before the first coffee break, everyone in the studio would be passing around the gossip.”
    “So?”
    “So?” Exasperated, she could only stare at him. “David, that’s precisely what we agreed we didn’t want. We don’t want your crew or our associates speculating and gossiping about our personal relationship.”
    Brow lifted, eyes narrowed attentively, he listened. “I don’t recall discussing that in detail.”
    “Of course we did.” She tucked her purse under her arm, then wished she still had something in her hands. “Right at the beginning.”
    “As I recall, the idea was to keep our personal and professional lives separate.”
    “That’s just what I’ve said.”
    “I didn’t take that to mean you wanted to keep the fact that we’re lovers a secret.”
    “I don’t want an ad in Variety .”
    He stuck his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t have said whyhe was angry, only that he was. “You don’t leave much middle ground, do you?”
    She opened her mouth to spit at him, then subsided. “I guess not.” On a long breath, she took a step forward. “I want to avoid the speculation, just as I want to avoid the looks of sympathy when things change.”
    It didn’t require telepathy to understand that she’d been waiting for the change—no, he corrected, for the end—since the beginning. Knowledge brought an unexpected, and very unwelcome, twinge of pain. “I see. All right, then, we’ll try it your way.” He walked to the door and held it open. “Let’s go punch in.”
    No, he couldn’t have said why he was angry. In fact, he knew he shouldn’t have been. A.J.’s ground rules were logical, and if anything, they made things easier for him. Or should have made things