“Practicality is highly overrated.”

She leaned forward and placed a kiss in the center of his sturdy chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Be ready,” he said. “I’ll have something special planned.”

“I thought you didn’t make plans.”

“You’re an exception to my rules, Monica Campbell.”

She raised one brow. “Rules? I thought you didn’t believe in those either.”

“Perhaps you’re reforming me.”

* * *

Monica sat at her desk and rolled her crystal pen between her thumb and forefinger. She should’ve been working, finishing up cost projections for the next board meeting, but she didn’t have it in her. Cal would be here in half an hour, and she couldn’t wait to see him.

She needed a reprieve from another hectic day. Although Monica hadn’t received any unexpected visitors, Ryan had called, thanking her for coming to the hospital. He’d wanted to talk longer, drag out their conversation, but Monica had cut it short. Then his flowers showed up. A dozen red roses—so…expected compared to Cal’s colorful, over-the-top arrangement.

Maybe Cal was right and Ryan wanted a reconciliation. That wasn’t going to happen, but she hoped he’d come to that conclusion on his own.

And Monica hadn’t heard from Allie, either. She felt pretty awful for the way she’d lashed out, but Monica had tried reasoning with Allie before. Her sister never listened. Maybe Al was finally taking her seriously, allowing Monica to handle the day-to-day operations of the foundation. Or she could just be giving Monica the silent treatment.

After fifteen minutes, Monica gave up the pretense of working and shut down her computer. Grabbing her purse, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. She was the last person in the office, as usual. In the mirror, Monica primped a little bit, fluffing her hair and applying a coat of lip gloss, then trekked back to her office.

She’d just tossed her purse in the bottom drawer when she heard the outer office door creak open, and a moment later, Cal walked in. “Hello, love. Did you have a good day?”

Would she ever grow accustomed to looking at him? That first glance always stole her breath away. As her gaze slid over him, she sauntered to the front of the desk. “It’s getting better.”

He wore dark slacks and a navy shirt. Her eyes were drawn to the V at the center of his collarbone. She slid her gaze up his throat to the tilted grin. When she looked into his eyes, they crinkled in the corners, causing her heart to pound. “How was your day?”

“Long. Jules talked nonstop as I worked on the Mustang. My ears are still ringing.” He yanked on his earlobe.

“So did you really plan a date, or are we winging it tonight?”

“I have something very special planned.” He rubbed his hands together and gave her a wicked smile.

“Dinner? A movie? You’re going to let me drive your car again?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Cal strode forward, his thigh muscles flexing as he moved.

She wanted time to explore those thighs, run her fingers up and down his legs and slowly feel her way to his long, thick shaft. Monica had a few plans of her own.

Her gaze trailed over him, all the way down to his feet. Instead of work boots, he sported loafers. “You have tassels.”

Cal stopped and glanced at his shoes. “Do you have something against tassels? Because I rather like them. When they’re attached to nipples, they’re even better.”

She kept staring at his feet. “They’re cute.”

He walked another couple of steps until he stood in front of her. “Cute?” He reached out and fingered the collar of her black blouse edged in lace. “Is this from the Italian Widows collection? Quite fetching.”

She tried to smack at him, but he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes remained on hers as he kissed her palm.

“I actually wore a skirt today, instead of pants. I should get credit for that.”

Cal glanced down at her legs. “It falls well past your knees. Are you trying to seduce me with your ankles?” He pulled her toward him, causing Monica to lose her balance and grab his upper arm for support.

“Cal.” Her smile fell away when she saw the heat in his eyes. Their one night together had been at the forefront of her mind for the last two days. The Mustang, his fresh, clean scent, his hard dick inside her…it replayed in her head over and over.

Cal leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I want you right now.”

Monica nodded. “I’ll grab my stuff and we can get out of here.” She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Right now.” His gravelly demand caused her stomach to flutter.

Monica’s gaze flew around the room. “We can’t. Not in my office.”

“Everyone’s gone for the night. The place is shut down tight.”

“No. Not here.” Tugging her hand back, Monica shook her head.

With an indifferent expression, Cal shrugged. “Of course. We’ll go back to mine, assume the missionary position, and keep the lights off. Very good.”

He was playing with her. She knew he was playing with her, and yet she couldn’t leave it alone. That damned last-word thing. “Just because I don’t want to use my desk doesn’t mean I do boring sex. And I didn’t notice you complaining the other night.”

Cal raised his brows. “Who said anything about the desk?”

That left her speechless for a moment. “Then where?” Curiosity overrode her sense of propriety. “I’m for sure not doing it on this floor.” She winced at the industrial gray carpeting. Looked scratchy.

“Not the floor.” Cal reached out, his hand landing on her chest. His tanned fingers plucked open two of her shirt buttons.

Monica froze to the spot, helpless to stop him. She was not having sex in her office. But the very thought of it caused thrills of excitement to skitter throughout her body. “Up against the wall?”

“Everyone fucks against the wall. Where’s the imagination in that?” He placed a finger at the base of her neck and lazily traced to the third button.

Monica watched its progress and stared in fascination as he flicked open two more, revealing the scalloped, lacy edge of her bra. The tops of Monica’s breasts were bare, pushed up high and firm in the scarlet demi bra. She’d worn it with him in mind.

“Red.” His lips parted, and Cal’s chest expanded as he inhaled.

He was pleased. No, not pleased—aroused. She really needed to wear this color more often.

As Cal stared at her breasts, Monica’s heart pounded. Her panties grew wet. With one sexually charged look, he could draw that kind of response from her, make her body hum with desire. After a full minute, Cal dragged his gaze from her cleavage, up to her face.

Monica’s gaze bounced away. “You said you liked the color.”

“Seeing you in that, it’s better than Christmas.”

She started to laugh, but when Cal used his finger to follow the upper curve of her breast, it turned into a gasp. “I’m not having sex in the break room,” she said as he finished undoing the buttons visible above the waistband of her black skirt. “I’d never be able to eat in there again.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.

“Not the break room.” He used both of his hands to untuck her blouse and then peeled the edges back, revealing more of her pale skin. “The other night in the Mustang, I never got to see you naked. Tonight, I want to see everything.” With the pads of his fingertips, he brushed over the satin smoothness of her bra strap, then followed them downward and cupped her breasts. Her nipples immediately budded beneath his touch.

The suspense was killing her. Not the desk, not the floor, not the wall. “Where?”

“Where what?” Cal continued to lightly stroke her. “You mean where would I fuck you in this office?”

Monica licked her dry lips. “Yes.”

“First, I’d strip every bit of clothing off you.” He pushed her jacket and blouse over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving them hanging from her wrists. He bent down and swiped his tongue across her breast. “And then, I’d grab your ass. Have I mentioned how much I love your ass?” He licked her again.