The Sexiest Man Alive

He moved so that she was lying fully against him. When he did, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. There was a thudding sound somewhere m the distance. Was it the sound of her heart?

Was somebody calling her name?

Was a voice saying, “Suze?”

It wasn’t Matthew. He hadn’t seemed to know her name a little while ago. Now he was holding her, kissing her, whispering “Susannah,” over and over against her lips.

“Matthew,” she sighed.

He groaned, bent his head, gently nipped her throat.

She dug her fingers into his hair. Desire shot through her. She felt reckless and bold.

He was silk and steel, fire and ice. And she was burning.

His hand swept up, cupped her breast. She arched against the caress, riding the sensation of his touch. Her breath caught in an ecstatic sob as he shoved up her sweatshirt and stroked his fingertips over the satin of her flesh. She cried out and ground her bottom against the hardness of him.

He rose, holding her. His embrace was powerful. She felt fragile, eager, filled with need for him. She clung to him, her hands locked behind his head, her mouth opening to his hot, hungry kisses. Papers, books, pencils flew from the conference table as he lay her down upon it.

“Susannah,” he said fiercely.

She looked at him. His eyes were hot and dark with desire.

A shudder raced through her. She knew that what was going to happen between them would change her life forever, would make any other lover impossible.

“Yes,” she said, raising her arms to him, “yes. yes...”

The door swung open, hitting the wall like a clap of thunder rolling over the canyons of the city. “Oh, my God! Susannah!”

Susannah almost fell off the table.

She sat up. Matthew stepped back. Both of them stared at the open door, where Claire and Eddie and Judy and, Susannah thought desperately, what looked like a million other CHIC staffers stood crowded together in stunned silence. It was like staring into a sea of disbelief. Mouths hung open. Eyes grew round as saucers. Heads swiveled, as if this were a tennis match, while everyone looked from Susannah to Matthew, from Matthew to Susannah...

Susannah’s stomach clenched as the enormity of what had happened—what had almost happened—began seeping in. She’d almost—she and Matthew Romano had almost—they had come very close to—

And, as if that weren’t awful enough, everybody at CHIC knew it. And she would have to live with that forever.

“Suze?”

Susannah shut her eyes, then blinked them open. Claire was staring at her as if she were a stranger. Why wouldn’t she? She knew how she must look. Her disheveled clothes. Her hot face. Her kiss-swollen lips.

“Claire,” she said. Her voice sounded rusty, and she cleared her throat and began again. “I know how this must look, but—”

But? But what? But the man standing beside me, the one I swear to you I absolutely, positively, wholeheartedly abhor, hate and despise, kissed me, simply kissed me, and I went crazy?

“Claire.” Susannah lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. “I know what you want to hear. But—but really, I can’t—I just can’t explain why—why—”

“Of course she can’t,” Matthew Romano said.

Authority resonated in his deep voice. Every eye swiveled in his direction, Susannah’s included. He looked perfectly at ease and in control of the situation. Not even his tie was askew.

“Can’t what?” Claire asked suspiciously.

Good question, Susannah thought, and waited for the detestable Mr Romano to field it. He did, along with a smile that oozed concern.

“She can’t explain why she fainted, Miss...?”

“Haines,” Claire said, and looked even more suspiciously at Susannah. “You fainted?”

Susannah licked her lips. “Ah... Yes. Yes, that’s right. I fainted.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Why?” Susannah asked stupidly, and Claire nodded.

“That’s what I said, Suze. Why’d you faint? People don’t simply keel over for no reason at all ”

Susannah looked at Matthew. You’re the one with the answers, her eyes said, so go ahead. Come up with a good one.

“It was the shock,” Romano said smoothly, and offered her his hand. “Miss Madison? Are you feeling well enough to stand?”

“Thank you.” Her tone was as polite as his. “I don’t need any help.”

But she did. Her legs weren’t as steady as her voice. She rocked on her heels when she slid from the table, and he slipped a gentlemanly arm around her shoulders.

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