In the Den Read Online Free PDF

need his touch. She needed someone’s . Anyone’s.
    No matter how hard she tried to convince herself she didn’t need the devastating Dom, she couldn’t banish his image from her mind.
    Cursing her traitorous thoughts, she set up the coffee pot for the next morning and programmed its timer. It wasn’t even five o’clock in the afternoon.
    One thing was certain, she needed an outlet for her turmoil.
    She telephoned a couple of friends—no one was available to hang out.
    As a desperate measure she called Bradley. He begged off with an apology, saying he had to get ready for work the next day, adding in a sheepish voice that Master Lawrence had exhausted him.
    That left only one option.
    With confidence, she dialed her mother’s number. Evelyn didn’t answer until the fourth ring. With a gleeful giggle, she said she was going to a movie with a new beau.
    Her mother had plans? Then it hit her. “Wait. What? When did you get a boyfriend?”
    “A few weeks ago. Milton. He likes to rock climb at an indoor gym. Can you imagine?”
    “I’m having a hard time getting past the fact you’re dating, Mother.”
    “Yeah. Isn’t it cool?”
    “Cool?” She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. “Sorry, who is this? I thought I was talking to my mom.”
    “I’ve got to go. Miltey will be here in a few minutes, and I hate to keep him waiting.”
    Miltey? In the background, Catrina heard the sound of her mother’s doorbell.
    “I’m sure you’ll find something to do, dear. Give me a call later this week. Maybe you can meet him.”
    Her mother hung up without a formal goodbye.
    At times like this, that nasty, nasty internal voice turned up the volume, reminding Catrina she’d made the choice to shut herself off from intimacy and that there were consequences for it. She informed her clients it was okay to trust again, even fall in love, as long as they made savvy financial decisions and didn’t abdicate all their power. But she hadn’t been able to take her own advice.
    The clock on the kitchen wall indicated it was a few minutes past seven. She still had time to make it to Damien’s house.
    Catrina raked a handful of hair back from her forehead.
    Who was she fooling? A man hadn’t held her interest like this in years, if ever. In fighting herself and him, she was also fighting the inevitable. She could see him again and prove to herself that last night had been an anomaly. And she could collect a fabulous, well-earned orgasm.
    * * * *
    Damien prided himself on the fact that nothing rattled him.
    He owned half a dozen businesses and executed transactions in a handful of different time zones. Others came to him to solve their problems.
    So why the hell was he wearing a path in the living room’s hardwood floor?
    Annoyed with himself, he checked his watch. Until this moment, he’d had no doubt Catrina would show up.
    He’d expected her to be a few minutes late, but twenty?
    Half an hour ago, he’d flipped the switch to ignite the fireplace, bumped the house temperature a couple of degrees, turned on the porch and path lights then uncorked a bottle of wine.
    Afterwards, instead of staring out of the window, he’d forced himself to return to his study to finish up an email to a potential client in Hong Kong. That had taken all of three minutes.
    He’d flipped the lid closed on his notebook computer then tried to settle on the couch.
    After Catrina had left the Den last night, he’d been restless. A little after two o’clock, Gregorio had locked up and headed for his own quarters.
    For the first time since his divorce a decade before, Damien had noticed how large his suite was, how big and empty his house was.
    He’d ached to hold Catrina in his arms. Not just any woman. Catrina, specifically. There was something about her scent, the way she fought him, the way her eyes—the color of crushed emeralds—glittered when she challenged him. And more, it was the way she tried to hide her