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sure all your sexual escapades are filled with meaning.”

“If you’re implying that I have fulfilling, long-lasting emotional relationships, then no, I don’t. My life isn’t conducive to long-term relationships, and you know that. But I never have meaningless sex. I don’t fuck someone and drop them the next day. Sex means something. You should never take it lightly.”

She looked down at her hands again. “Damn you. I wanted it to be meaningless.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? If your objective is just to get off, you can do that yourself.”

Her gaze shot to his, her mouth dangling open. Her lips were full, soft, and it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to kiss her.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I think we’re past dancing around each other. If you just want a release, you can do it yourself. That’s not what you want.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, then said, “You’re right. It’s not what I want. But I also don’t want a relationship. I don’t want any strings. I don’t want to get involved with someone.”

“Neither do I. That’s why you and me are perfect for this.”

He didn’t know why he hadn’t suggested it before, other than he figured she’d already been having sex.

Five years? That’s a long damn time to go without. Then again, he knew nothing about love, or grieving for someone you’d lost. He’d never loved anyone, or lost anyone he cared about. Maybe it did take that long. He knew Ella had loved James. And it just wasn’t right when someone that young died. But it happened. He’d seen it happen all the time, especially in their business. There were no guarantees.

“I do trust you.”

It meant a lot to him that she did. And okay, maybe he wanted to get in her pants—had wanted to for a couple years now. He wasn’t bothered by James’s memory. He and James had been friends. But James was long gone now. And Ella had a right to a life. She hadn’t died.

“I’m glad you do. And you know I won’t try to tie you down with any relationship when it’s over. You go back to your job and I’ll go back to mine. And we’ll never talk about it again.”

“Yes.” She blew out a breath. “That would be perfect.”

“But while we’re here, we can have one hell of a good time, Ella.”

“You’re right. We could.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Ella wasn’t sure how this was going to play out, but now that Clay had offered, the thought of getting him naked was first on her list of things to do.

“Come on.” He stood, held out his hand for her. She slipped her hand in his and followed him. He walked back inside the club and Ella bit back the disappointment, which turned out to be only momentary as he walked through the double doors and outside.

“Thank God,” she said. “I thought you were going to drag me on the dance floor.”

Clay laughed. “Not a chance. I can’t dance for shit.”

She arched a brow as they strolled along the walkway between the club and the condo.

“I’m going to have to see that.”

“No, you really aren’t.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad.”

“You’ve shattered my illusions. I thought you were perfect.” She liked that he didn’t stride fast, instead strolled along at a slow pace so she could keep up with him. In her work boots, she’d have no problem. In these heels? She’d have to run.

Once back at the condo complex, he took her up in the elevator to the top floor, then used his key to enter his suite.

“Suite, huh? Well, aren’t you special?”

He tilted toward her as he pushed the door open and flipped on the light. “I like Hawaii.

And as we know, property is a good investment.”

Investment. Hell. It was a palace. Twice the size, at least, of her condo. Spacious and open, with lots of windows and doors overlooking the ocean. “Just leave me here. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. They’ll never notice I’m missing.”

He laughed and opened the sliding-glass door. A breeze blew the curtains inward.

“Bullshit. You run that company with an iron fist. Your lazy crew would revolt if they thought their leader was gone.”

“My lazy crew?” She arched a brow and put her hands on her hips. “My crew can work circles around yours.”

He moved toward her. “You field a bunch of pussies and you know it.”

He was teasing her. She liked it. He’d never once treated her with kid gloves—not even right after James had died. And that was exactly what she’d needed—someone to drive her to get in there and do the job. That was what James would have expected from her.

That was what Clay expected from her. She’d adored him for that, for not coddling her and holding her hand other than showing her the ropes of the business.

She glared at him. “When we get back to work next week I’ll pony up my guys against yours, and we’ll see who can put in an honest day’s work without lying down on the job.”

“You’re on, cupcake.”

He was right in front of her now, all six foot five or so of him. Imposing, sexy, an expanse of tanned skin visible over the top button of his shirt. She wanted to reach in there and touch it—touch him. That she could now—where before she supposed it had been either forbidden, at least in her mind, or something that would never have occurred to her. It was unnerving. She swallowed and tilted her head back to look at his face.

His smile was devastating. How did women resist him?

Oh, yeah. They didn’t.

The dynamics had changed. They were no longer coworkers. They were friends, always had been, always would be. But tonight they were going to become lovers. This whole thing was surreal.

His smile shifted, became a little less wide. “You’re thinking about something.”

“Yes.”

“James?”

Funny he would think that. “No. Actually, I was thinking about you and me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“About how our relationship

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