Jessica just hoped her assistant didn’t get her hopes up. This was a job for Shawn, just as it was for Dan, and when it came to an end, they would both walk off into their normal lives with nary a thought about the two redheads.

She’d said as much to Marla, but it wasn’t any use. The girl was smitten. Shawn was spectacularly good-looking, and any woman would have been flattered at the attention. But Marla was a little too sweet and innocent for her own good, and Jessica was sure she was going to pay.

But even that didn’t seem so important, curled up in the comfort of Dan’s arm. He smelled wonderful, clean, but with a hint of spice. His breath was sweetly cinnamon, and it made her think of the gentle kiss he’d given her earlier.

It hadn’t been much of a kiss, nothing compared to the earthquake of last night, and yet she’d been thrilled by it, and for a long time after, her heart pattered fast in her chest.

Clearly, this attraction wasn’t going away. In fact, each new day it grew deeper and more insistent. She felt quite sure, despite his protestations about his research, that something had to give, and give soon.

She sighed, and he hugged her to him. It felt as if she belonged there, as if she was safe. She tried to think if any man had made her feel like this, and came up blank.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let nature take its course. Unlike Marla, she was a realist, and she knew that nothing was going to happen between them that would have a lasting impact. She wouldn’t allow that. But at this stage of the game, not sleeping with him was probably going to cause her more stress and grief then just giving in.

So give in she would.

THE RESTAURANT was packed, with a long line out onto the street, just as Dan had anticipated. But Andy, the maître d’, was an old friend, and had never made him wait. Once the cab dropped them off, he took Jessica’s hand and escorted her past the line all the way to the dining-room entrance. There was Andy, looking damn fine in her black dress and fancy hairdo.

“Dan!”

“Hey, Andy.” They kissed in the European tradition, with a little American hug thrown in for good measure.

“It’s such a treat to see you,” she said. “You have to try the salmon tonight. It’s a new recipe, and it’s heaven.”

“Will do.” He introduced Jessica, and then Andy led them to a quiet booth in a cozy corner. It was perfect.

After they were settled, and drinks had been ordered, Jessica turned to him. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Who? Andy?” He shook his head. “Old friend. She used to be my ex-roommate’s ladylove. They broke up a year ago, and I ended up getting closer to Andy than Gordo.”

“So that’s how you can get a reservation at Biggalow’s? Last time I heard, you had to be at least an A-list star to get that kind of treatment.”

“Just the luck of the draw. I don’t have many connections in the city, and most of them are pretty obscure, but there are a few that have earned me major brownie points.”

“Tonight, for example.”

He just smiled. She looked so pretty in her pale green blouse and slacks. Like the restaurant, she wasn’t fancy on the outside, but she had the real goods. She’d handled the day like a pro, and though he couldn’t pass any tests on fashion photography, he thought it had gone well.

“Are you going to try the salmon?”

“If Andy recommends it, you can bet it’s the best.”

She closed her menu and leaned back on the soft leather seat. “Okay, then.”

As if signaled, the waitress came to the table and wrote down their orders. All Dan wanted was to be left alone with Jessica. Now that he had his wish, he hesitated. Instead of just coming out with his questions, he drank his scotch and scanned the crowd. A lot of celebrities were in attendance, and he thought a few of them had been at the party last night. God, New York was a tiny place. Especially when it came to the places that were “in” like Biggalow’s. Personally, his favorite restaurant was a little Italian joint three blocks from his place, and there was never a wait to get in.

“I’m surprised,” Jessica said.

“About what?

“I figured you’d have asked me at least one embarrassing question by now.”

“I’m going to. I’m trying to decide how deeply to embarrass you. I mean, we don’t even have our salads yet.”

“So it gets worse by the course?”

“Worse? I’m not trying to torture you.”

She looked at him warily. “Right. Asking about my deepest, darkest secrets is just a pleasant way to pass the time.”

“Well, it sure beats idle chitchat.”

“I don’t know about that. We could talk about the weather.”

“Boring.”

“Sports?”

“Unless I’m participating, I don’t care for them.”

“Not even baseball?”

“Yawn.”

“Okay, how about the women in your life. That seems juicy.”

“About as dull as golf, I’d say.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’d be wrong. But now that you bring it up, what about your love life?”

“What love life?”

“Nothing? Ever?”

“Passing phases, none noteworthy.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Intentional. You know-”

“Career above all.”

“Damn straight.

“But that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped having urges. Thoughts.” He leaned over, moving close enough that he could almost touch her ear. “Fantasies.”

“Ah, here we go.”

“Damn straight.”

She sighed as if it was all too mundane, but even in the dimmed lighting at their booth he could see the hint of pink on her cheeks.

“What,” she asked, “do you want to know?”

“Let’s start out with urges.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

“Are they frequent? Do they come in cycles, like your period? Does something you see or someone you meet spark them?”

“Phew,” she said. “Here I was worried you might get personal.”

He grinned. “You have to admit, it’s an intriguing way to get to know someone.”

“I think I’ll do some research of my own. Start asking you questions.”

“Fire away. But only after you’ve answered me.”

She sipped her drink, a whiskey sour, scanning the room all the while. Finally, just as he was going to nudge her, she faced him again. “The urges come and go, and I’ve never really thought much about what sparks them. They do seem to be cyclical, but some months are worse than others. And yes, sometimes I’ll see a movie, or meet someone who will be the catalyst, but it’s nothing that can’t be controlled.”

“What do you do about them?”

“Oh, God.”

“Come on, Jessica. It’s just biology.”

“Dissecting a frog is biology. This is torment.”

“Have another drink. Then give.”

“All right, all right. I…” She cleared her throat. “I masturbate.”

“Excellent.”

“I didn’t know I was going to be graded.”

“You’re not. It’s just that I figured you’d be in charge in that area, as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a pretty together cookie, and you’ve made some tough choices. I couldn’t imagine you not handling your sexuality in the same manner.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Definite compliment.”

“My libido thanks you, too.”

Dan moved his leg so their thighs touched. She sat up straighter, but didn’t shy away. Which meant he wasn’t pressing too hard. Yet. “Do you use a vibrator?”

“Jesus, Dan.”

“Don’t start. You knew what you were getting into.”

“Wrong. But okay. I’ll answer, but only because I made a promise.”

“Good. So, vibrator? Hand? Showerhead?”

“Yes, yes and sometimes.”

He nodded, trying to give himself an air of a professional researcher and not a horny bastard who had a hard-on that could pound nails into plywood. “Any preference?”

“It all depends on the circumstances. When I just want to get off and get to sleep, I use BOB.”

“Battery-Operated Boyfriend?”

She nodded.

“And when you want it to be more sensual? To last?”