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Dani froze. She would never be able prove it in court. She had no recording of the conversation. Their word against hers.

Who belonged to that raspy voice?

She sidled around the palm trees and peeked around the corner, searching for the tall, sun-streaked locks of Cam Townsend, asshole extraordinaire, and whatever senior member of the firm was apparently trying to pimp her out to attorneys like Townsend whom they were hoping to hire.

Damn! No sign of Cam or his conversation partner. They must have moved off into the crowd while she’d been regaining the ability to breathe.

Eyes narrowed, she plowed into the crowd, a woman on a mission. She might be swimming in the big shark tank now, but she wasn’t entirely without teeth of her own. And hey, she could always screw Cam Townsend into telling who’d said he could have her.

There he was. Cam was holding court for some of the associates who’d survived their first year at the firm. For the first time, she registered that there were no women among them. Funny that.

In fact, now that she thought about it, there was a decided dearth of young female lawyers around here. Sure, there were a few gruff female battle axes in the mid-level offices, but that was about it. How come she hadn’t noticed that when she’d interviewed here? Probably because there were plenty of women legal secretaries and paralegals roaming the halls.

She reached for the top button of her silk blouse and undid it, pulling the neck open. What the hell. She undid the second button, too. So mad she could spit, she pulled her blouse to the side far enough for her lace trimming her bra cup to peek out. Too bad it was conservative white and not bright red.

She fluffed up her hair and bit her lips as she approached the cluster of laughing young men hanging on Cam’s every word.

“Hey, Dani,” one of her co-workers called out. “Have you met Cam Townsend? Avoid him like the plague in court if you want to keep your batting average up.”

Her gaze snapped to Cam’s, and on cue he smirked. She snapped, “My bat’s heavy and hard. Perfect for smashing balls.”

The crowd hooted, and she marched away from the sycophants. Badly in need of escape, she ducked down a long hallway and all but ran to the ladies’ rest room. She ducked into the plush washroom and leaned against the counter, fighting back tears of impotent rage. The bastards had hired her for her tits? And they planned to fire her in less than a year?

After all those years of grueling work, slogging through law school, working humiliating part-time jobs to cover what her student loans didn’t, barely sleeping, no time for any kind of social life, let alone dating…she’d given up everything to get herself through law school. Hell, she’d even turned down a couple decent offers from smaller law firms upstate to work at a big, prestigious one in New York City. And now this.

No way could she quit this job. Hiring season was over for this year’s crop of new law school grads, and jobs were super hard to come by with way too many new lawyers clawing their way into a tight job market.

Not to mention she had to start paying on her student loans now that she’d graduated, and no way could she cover her loan payments and, oh, rent, flipping burgers at a fast-food chain. She was well and truly trapped.

She would not cry. She was running with the big boys now, and girls didn’t get to act like girls.

Turning to the Italian marble sink, she splashed water on her face and rinsed out her mouth with the complimentary mouthwash sitting on the counter beside the expensive hand lotion. She was never drinking another martini as long as she lived. They were foul concoctions, and furthermore, she was fairly sure they would put hair on her chest if she kept drinking them.

She burped, and acidic booze burned the back of her throat as bad as if she’d sucked on a flamethrower. She swiped away the resulting tears of distress.

It turned out belching gin and vermouth through Kool-Aid sweet wine ethers was even more disgusting than downing one of the evil martinis neat. Her stomach heaved alarmingly.

She grabbed a big handful of pastel mints candies from the bowl on the counter and jammed them in her mouth. The sweet mints calmed her stomach and made the interior of her mouth tolerable. She swished water around in her mouth again and spit it out. Whew. Humanity restored.

The cherry wood ladies’ room door swung open and she pasted on a polite smile for whoever walked in— Cam .

She declared sharply, “This is the ladies’ room, Kemosabe.”

His baby blues narrowed in irritation. He must know that the word did not mean “friend” as the Lone Ranger had believed but had actually meant ‘horse’s rear end.’

Excellent . What was the point of insulting a person if it went right over their head?

“What the hell is your problem with me?” he demanded. “When did I piss in your Wheaties?”

She glared at him as he took an aggressive step toward her. “This is, in fact, the ladies’ room. You need to leave.”

“Is anyone else in here?” he demanded.

She glanced at the row of open stall doors. “No. Why?”

Scowling, he threw the lock on the main door and then, alarmingly, resumed stalking toward her.

Her heart was not racing. She was not suddenly feeling very breathless and very, very unbuttoned. Her hand started up toward her blouse to clutch the silk closed. But a tiny spark of defiance buried deep beneath the chorus of holy craps ringing in her head exerted itself and stilled her fist.

She did take a step back, though. The backs of her thighs bumped into the cold marble counter top. And still he came toward her. “Mr. Townsend?— “

“My name is Cameron. But you can call me Cam.”

“Cam. You need to go.”

“I think not. I think I need to see if you’re as fiery underneath all that boring gray wool as I think you are.”

Screw her lights out if you feel like it. That’s why we hired her.

Small problem with that plan: being assaulted was not sexy. And abruptly, she was not amused.

Her spine stiffened. She was not here solely for this jerk’s cheap pleasure. She was not letting him screw her, and she wasn’t letting him intimidate her, either. Furious, she pushed away from the counter and assertively closed the remaining gap between them.

She pushed his unbuttoned wool suit coat further open and seductively ran her French-manicured fingernail down the button placket of his custom-tailored, Egyptian cotton shirt.

She cast a sidelong glance up at him through her long, dark lashes, and murmured, “You think you can handle this fire and not get burned…Cam?”

His hands came up. Cupped her face in big, strong, surprisingly gently palms. It occurred to her that he could probably break her in two if he tried and that she should be screaming her head off right about now.

She braced herself, waiting for him to attack her. To try to force a kiss upon her. Reach for the hem of her skirt. Shove her backward against the counter. She shifted her weight to her left leg, preparatory to slamming her right knee up into his groin, and fisted her hands, focusing on his throat and the bridge of his nose.

Except he didn’t do anything. He merely stared down at her intently. Curiously. As if he was searching for something in her gaze. Oddly, she didn’t get the impression he had any interest in assaulting her. If anything, reluctance glinted in the sapphire depths of his eyes.

What was the deal with him? He acted all aggressive and take-charge in their meeting and in front of the other associates, but now that they were alone, he’d totally changed his tune. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in forcing her to have sex.

What was it he’d said to that raspy voice? Something about her assets? Or had Raspy said that? She couldn’t’ remember. Maybe she was just a little drunk and befuddled.

“Well?” she demanded. “Are you going to try to kiss me or not?”

His bronzed jaw rippled as if he clenched it in irritation. Or was that disappointment in his eyes?

“As the lady wishes,” he ground out. That was definitely disappointment in his voice.

What on earth?

She was so distracted by his strange reaction she didn’t notice his head bending down to hers until they were nose to nose.

She should stop him. Right? But then curiosity abruptly rolled through her. What would it be like to kiss a man like him? He was so far out of her league they didn’t belong in the same room.

He closed the last few inches between them and her gaze dropped to his mouth. It was a very nice mouth. A very kissable mouth--

His lips brushed across hers.

She gasped at the feather lightness of it. This was emphatically not what she’d expected. She’d thought he would come in open mouthed, wet-tongued and slobbery. But that kiss had been very nice. Gentle, not aggressive. Enticing, not scary. An invitation, not a demand.

His lips brushed across hers again.

Her confusion deepened.

She’d totally expected him to fall on her like a dog with a fresh bone. But this was so restrained. Reluctant, even. What the actual heck?

Wasn’t he attracted to her? Was he only taking advantage of her “assets” so he could tell the raspy voiced senior member of the firm he’d done it?

“You taste good,” he breathed against her lips.

He kissed her lightly again, his mouth lingering a bit longer on hers this time, encouraging her to participate but definitely not forcing her.

She realized with a start that he had let go of her face and his hands were roaming lightly across her shoulders and down her arms. But he wasn’t grabbing her, wasn’t holding her in place, wasn’t in any way making her stand here and let him kiss her. She was totally free to step away, which abruptly made it okay to stay here for a few more seconds.

It didn’t hurt that the man kissed like the god he resembled.

Indeed, he was the best kisser she’d ever encountered. If nothing else, she should let him kiss her more so she could take notes.

He kissed her again with a tiny bit more intention. But it was still restrained and respectful. And she liked it. A lot. This was the complete opposite of what she’d expected from him, and it threw her totally off-balance.

His tongue stroked lightly across her lips, and she opened her mouth for him. Was that a groan that slipped out of her throat when his tongue dipped into the heat of her mouth? She felt with no little shock that any remaining resistance had drained out of her.

No way could she accuse him of assault, now. Nope. She was totally a willing participant at this point.

She realized she’d leaned back against the counter when he’d first kissed her and he was having to lean forward awkwardly to continue kissing her. His right thigh came forward to correct his balance—oh, God, between her legs. He didn’t exactly pin her to the counter, but it was sexy as hell straddling his leg like this.

She should step away. Stop this before she dug herself an even deeper hole with him and with her employer. If he told them she’d let him kiss her passionately in the ladies’ room, Raspy Voice might assume she was willing to let WMP throw any hotshot attorney her way for a little hanky panky. She was no slut, regardless of how much the firm paid her to pimp her out.

She definitely liked kissing Cam. Even if she was a teensy bit tipsy and that was probably coloring her opinion of this whole endeavor.

His mouth was warm and resilient against hers, and his breath caressed her skin lightly, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He kissed his way across her jaw, up to her temple, and back down to her mouth. She was actually impatient for him to get back to kissing her mouth so she could kiss him back.

A tiny, rational—sober—voice in the back of her brain warned, this is a mistake.

She argued back , but it feels so good. And I didn’t expect a man like this, who could have any woman at any firm, to be genuinely interested in me.

Sober Dani pointed out tartly , he’s only kissing you because you demanded that he get it over with.

Hush up and let me enjoy this, will you? she ordered her common sense.

Thing was, she was never going to be a little drunk around him again. He was never going to kiss her again. This was a one-time good deal and quite the education in how to kiss well.

What the hell.

She straightened to meet him and their mouths met more firmly. The kiss deepened as they both leaned into it. He plunged his hands into her hair as his head tilted and the kiss deepened even more.

Yowza. And she’d thought he was a good kisser before.

An urge to inhale him came over her. Who cared if it was martini-induced lust. She hadn’t felt anything like this in a very long time. She hadn’t even been sure she could feel real passion after so many years of studying and working non-stop and living like some cloistered nun.

Not to be outdone, he inhaled her back, body, mind, and soul. He sapped all will to resist out of her as he slipped his arms around her and swept her up against his gloriously hard body, kissing her deeply, druggingly. Ay caramba, could this guy kiss!

Her entire body clenched in anticipation of the plundering to come, aching for him to fill her, driving into her until she couldn’t think, claiming her as his woman?—

Wait. What?

Dang it. She’d told sober Dani to be quiet and stay out of this scrumptious mistake.

Clearly, he’d managed to turn her brain to mush, her ethics to ashes, and her moral spine to limp spaghetti.

Sober Dani leaped on the moment of weakness, or rather, reason. This really is a horrible mistake. You’ve got to face him in court someday. You need to be able to look him in the eye, or at least do so without blushing beet red. No jury will take you seriously if it’s clear you’re hot to get in his pants and can’t even keep your mind on the trial.

Well, hell. Sober Dani had a point.

Regret lanced through her. Tipsy Dani tried one last time to win the debate raging in her head. But he kisses so well. And if he makes love the same way he kisses, it’ll be the best sex you’ve ever had…

Sober Dani wasn’t even regretful as she pointed out, C’mon. One—admittedly great—one-night-stand or ruining your career and everything you’ve worked so hard for. You know what you have to do.

Party pooper.

She sighed. Did the martinis have to wear off just when things were getting interesting between her and Cam?

She had to stop this.

But how?

She needed to end this permanently. Stop this encounter in a way that guaranteed he never wanted to kiss her again. In a way there was no coming back from…just in case she ever was forced to drink martinis around him and somehow ended up alone in a ladies’ room with him someday.

She had to make it clear that just because they’d fooled around a little, she was not going to accept his plea deal nor hand him the win in their case because she was consumed with mindless passion for him.

Tipsy Dani kissed him one last time. Lord, that man could kiss?—

Be strong. Break this off in the most unforgivable possible way. Do it. Now.

For the record, I’m never forgiving you for this, sober Self.

She took a deep breath and threw her head back, making a show of guiding his head down to the open neck of her blouse.

“Oh, Cam,” she moaned dramatically. “Take me. I’m yours. Yes. Yes!”

He groaned in the back of his throat, and something raw and shocking deep inside her leapt in response to it. Viciously suppressing her visceral reaction to this extremely attractive man, she forced all the tension from her body and abruptly sagged, limp in his arms.

Startled, he lifted his head away from the hollow at the base of her neck and stared down at her in what looked like genuine concern.

Quick as a mink, she slipped out from under his arm and darted to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open, pausing to shoot him the most disdainful stare she could muster.

She said coldly, “In your dreams, Counselor. You’ll tap this when hell freezes over.”