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question open-ended so that Gillian was forced to either agree to his unorthodox manner or call it quits.
    She couldn’t quit, though, not with so much at stake. Feigning an air of indifference, she gestured at his towel. “Flounce around buck naked if it pleases you. It’s no matter to me.”
    He barked a laugh. “Flounce? Yeah, I bet you’d love for me to lose the towel, wouldn’t you? Admit it. And here you pretend to be so proper.” Shaking his head, he didn’t give her a chance to correct him or take umbrage. “Grab a seat and take a load off. I’ll be right back. And Gillian?”
    She met his gaze with a raised brow.
    “No peeking.”
    Rolling her eyes, she gave him her back and strolled across the room to take a seat. When he disappeared from sight, she let out the breath smothering her.
    For one heart-stopping moment, she’d thought he would drop his towel, and she’d been very undecided on whether to leave, or stay and get an eyeful.
    Her pulse still sped and she felt too warm. Moseying into the dining room, she set her purse and briefcase on the table and then removed her black linen-blend jacket. For hours, she’d agonized over what to wear, but in the end, she decided not to let Drew Black influence her wardrobe choice.
    She liked dressing feminine, so she’d opted for a sleeveless, scoop-neck, sheath dress with a tailored fit. It hugged her in all the right places, emphasizing her waist, and ended just below her knee. The black and white pattern of the dress went well with her dark hair. Black pumps were always businesslike, and these were heeled enough to give her needed height in dealing with Drew.
    To keep herself from picturing Drew getting dressed, she looked around at what she could see of his house.
    His front door opened into a spacious living room with high ceilings and lots of natural light. He had enormous plants, traditional furniture, modern art . . . altogether it looked great. Very stylish. She wondered if he’d decorated on his own or hired someone.
    She was just about to peer into the kitchen when music started, and she turned to see Drew standing a few feet away, dressed in worn jeans and an open, casual white shirt, bare feet braced apart. As he stared at her, he buttoned up the shirt.
    Gillian’s mouth went dry again. What was it about barefoot, jean-wearing men that was so . . . elemental, so macho? “I hope you didn’t rush on my account.”
    His gaze slid over her, hot and personal, studying her throat, bare shoulders, and cleavage, before it tracked down to her legs.
    One side of his mouth quirked up. “You’re making this really easy, you realize.”
    “This?”
    Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he approached her. When he stood right in front of her, he said nothing, just kept looking at her while he finished with his shirt.
    “Drew?” Damn him, he left her so unsettled. “Really, I don’t—”
    With his voice deeper than usual, he asked, “Do you ever wear your hair down?”
    Her jaw loosened. “I don’t see—”
    “Because I bet you look sexy as hell loosened up a bit, don’t you, Gillian?”
    Her stomach fluttered and her breath caught. Get a grip, Gillian . Standing her ground, she thrust her chin up and glared at him. “You are outrageous.”
    “I know. But it’s still true. You look hot all spruced up, but I’m betting you look even better freshly tumbled.”
    He found her sexy? Freshly tumbled? Gillian shook her head to clear it. “Enough of that, Drew. We have business to discuss. Important business.”
    “That we do.” He looked into her eyes, and his were so dark, so filled with purpose, that she felt herself falling. “But we’ve got all night, don’t we?”
    All night. What did he mean?
    He said nothing more, but Gillian was so aware of him, her every nerve ending started to tingle.
    As he reached around her, she found herself leaning in—and caught his small smile.
    “Have a seat.”
    The fog cleared. He’d . . . pulled out a