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her. He just couldn't. But he couldn't stop touching her either.

Her nervous laugh erupted against his hard chest. “Right. So you say, but your hand is still on my ass."

So it was.

He looked down at her and smiled knowingly. And moved his hand up to a respectable point on her back. “There. Problem remedied."

But as he twirled her around the dance floor, he knew it was only remedied for the time being. He wanted Maia with a force he'd never known. Not even Chloe had tempted him so.

And he was weak.

Hopefully he was strong enough to keep her safe.

Two hours later, Maia found herself at the sweets table with Sheila and Dino, needing sugary sustenance like she'd never needed it before. She inhaled a Nanaimo Bar, savoring its creamy, coconuty, chocolaty goodness.

Sheila grabbed her arm. “He said what?"

"Don't make me repeat it. Oh, God, don't make me repeat it,” Maia murmured. “I swear I'll come right here on the dance floor if I do."

"Something tells me he won't be put off,” Dino commented archly. “Check him out. In his head, he's already eating you up."

Trembling, Maia turned and saw Eric across the room. He leaned back on the bar, propped up on his elbows, and stared at her. At the same time he seemed to be humoring an elderly lady board member who was chatting at him, showing no signs of stopping. She could see the tension in his tight lips and the hard turn to his shoulder. And his eyes were focused only on her, like searchlights meant to illuminate his intense desire for her.

The desire he suddenly seemed unwilling to unleash.

She blinked. Since Eric's hot admission, she'd been a jittery bundle of nerves all night. Enflamed and frustrated at the same time. He made her head spin with all the back and forth action. First he kissed her, and then he ran away. He said he wanted her, but it was complicated. She'd spent the entire evening at his side, dancing and talking and laughing, but there had been sexual undertones all night. A touch here, a soft kiss on her neck there. He'd brushed his arm against her boobs a few times, sending jolts of red-hot fire coursing through her. And each exchange made him look more and more tortured.

Did he know what he wanted at all?

But then Maia watched as he ordered, paid for, and swiftly ingested what seemed to be his third glass of scotch. His eyes, always on her. Burning.

He knew what he wanted.

Good God, she'd never felt so hot! So desired.

But did she really want to be desired by a gorgeous man on a bender? Perhaps it was just the booze talking.

A tall, sexy redhead sauntered by Eric, giving him a pointed look of interest which would have made any man want to rut like a drooling beast. But his eyes were constantly trained on Maia. If he even did see the redhead, it didn't register on his face. Disappointed, the woman walked away.

Maia's head spun. What was wrong with Eric Lord? Couldn't he see all the flawless women in the room? All the very wealthy honeys who'd been fishing for him all night? Maia had never seen anything like it. Each time they'd danced, and he'd danced only with her, some vixen would try to separate them. Each time they wandered about the room, a sexy socialite with plastic boobs and unnaturally pouty lips would hand him her card. A card he'd promptly toss onto a nearby table.

And he'd never taken his eyes off her. Maia Douglas. The one who couldn't walk in heels. The one in the borrowed gown. The one who always had a foot in her mouth. It was unbelievable.

To top off the ludicrous situation, he was acting like a bear. Maia had been pleasantly surprised to see Wally from the cleaning staff at the gala. Cleaners didn't generally show up at these types of functions. But when Wally, who was sixty-five if he was a day, tried to cut in on one of their dances, Eric had almost taken the poor man's head off. Under the pretense of visiting the bathroom later, Maia ended up seeking out Wally instead, to apologize profusely. Thank God the poor guy hadn't been too bothered by Eric's possessive muttering.

She considered Eric as he took another long swig of scotch, wincing at the burn. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he had a disease or strange affliction. Maybe he had early onset Alzheimer's and was confusing her with a Kardashian.

Mind you, he'd looked pretty healthy when he was naked in her apartment. In his prime and definitely not feeble in any way. And his penis... Maia shuddered and felt her vagina clench in a wickedly delicious response.

Feeling oh-so-scorched, she tried in vain to fan herself with her sequined bag. None of it mattered anyway, seeing as he said he shouldn't be with her.

"Uh-oh,” said Dino. “Jailbait's in the house."

They all turned. Maia watched Sarah enter the room, looking fabulously young and fabulously blonde. Legs up to here and a gown so short they could all tell her waxing preferences. She made a beeline for Eric, with some guy trailing quietly behind her.

Frowning, Maia looked at the man. He was tall and black-haired and devastatingly gorgeous. And seemed so familiar...

"Wow,” said Dino. “All I ask of this life is to have one single date who looks that hot."

"I know,” Sheila concurred. “Sarah's looking pretty awesome."

"I was talking about the guy,” retorted Dino. “Well, even with that hunk on her arm, she's still headed for Eric."

"He's her boss,” Maia muttered. “She has to talk to him.” Even still, she frowned as Eric greeted her with a huge bear hug. Maybe it was a brotherly hug. She didn't comprehend how anyone could have brotherly intentions toward Sarah. Her long legs and perky boobs screamed, “Take me, I'm yours."

Hating herself for doing it, Maia attempted to read Eric's lips. He seemed to be saying something

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