"Picnic?" She looked at Zach. "It's winter."
"Winter picnic," he said, as if that was normal. It was, for DarkRiver. "It's informal, just a chance for people to get together before the Christmas madness."
"Please come, Miss Kildaire," Bryan pleaded. "Please."
He saw Annie melt at that childish plea and knew he had her.
"All right," she said, and looked up. Her smile faded . . . because he'd let the cat seep into his eyes, let her see the dark hunger pumping through his blood.
"I'll pick you up at nine." He leaned closer, drawing in the scent of her. "Be ready for me, sweetheart."
Annie closed the door to her apartment and asked herself if she'd lost her mind. Not half an hour ago, she'd agreed to spend an entire day with a man so dangerous, a sane woman would've run in the opposite direction . . . instead of fantasizing about kissing him on those should-be-illegal lips. Her entire body went hot as she remembered the look in his eyes as he'd asked her to be ready for him. Dear God, the man was lethal.
"Calm down, Annie," she told herself. "It's not like he's really going to do anything." Because while Zach Quinn might've flirted with her, might even have looked at her as a man looks at a woman he wants, she was pragmatic enough to know that it had probably been nothing more than a momentary diversi
on on his part. A man that good-looking had to have women begging to crawl into his bed.
The idea of Zach sprawled in bed, all gleaming skin and liquid muscle, made her stomach flutter. Then she imagined him crooking a finger, that teasing smile playing over his lips. "If he ever looks at me like that," she whispered, pulling the chopsticks out of her hair as she walked into the bedroom, "I'm a goner." Her black hair tumbled around her face in a mass of soft curls.
Zach's hair had looked heavier than hers, sleeker.
Her thoughts went from his hair to what he might look like in leopard form. A predator, all muscle and power covered with a gold-and-black coat. Would he allow a woman to stroke him? Her fingers tingled in awareness, and standing as she was in front of the vanity mirror, she saw her lips part, her eyes widen. The ache between her thighs turned into an erotic pulse.
Her cell phone beeped.
She ignored it, shocked by the raw intensity of the hunger surging through her. She'd never before reacted this passionately to a man, until her entire body trembled'with the force of it. "Lord have mercy." Because if this was what simply thinking about him did to her, how in the world was she going to survive being alone with him for an entire day?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
She answered the cell just to shut off the sound. "Yes?"
Chapter 3
"Angelica, what's the matter? You're snapping."
She took a deep breath. "Nothing, Mom. I just got home."
"Well, it's Friday, so you can relax a little. Drink that chamomile tea I got you."
Annie hated chamomile tea. "You know I don't like it." "It's good for you."
She'd heard that so many times it no longer made any impact. "I think I want to be bad, today." And it wasn't herbal tea on her mind. "Very, very bad."
"Honestly, Angelica!" Kimberly blew out a frustrated breath. "Forget the tea. I wanted to tell you to dress nicely for dinner tomorrow night."
Dinner? Annie's stomach sunk to the bottom of her toes as she realized she'd blanked the event from her mind. "Mom, you said you wouldn't—"
"He's a nice young professor from London. Over here on a sabbatical."
"When you say young . . ."
"He's only forty-three, dear."
Annie was twenty-eight. "Oh." She rubbed her forehead. "The thing is—"
"No arguments. Your father and I want you settled. We won't be around to look after you forever."
"I can look after myself." She felt her hand fist, released it with effort. There was no point in getting angry, not when this was a conversation they'd been having for more years than she could remember. "I'm not a child."