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casual: tan corduroy slacks, an ivory sweater and a brown tweed jacket. The tabs of a pale blue collar showed against the neckline of his sweater, but there was no evidence of a tie.
    For some strange reason she couldn’t completely understand, Maren smiled. It was comforting to think that Kyle Sterling rebelled against the formal convention of a tight silk tie knotted at his throat. It made him seem more real—less of a legend. As he approached the building he made no effort to straighten his jacket or comb his slightly unruly dark hair. It was as if he really didn’t care much about his appearance.
    When he passed out of view, Maren hurriedly ran her fingers through her hair, put her glasses in her purse and snapped the contracts into her briefcase. She heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Was that how he kept himself slim—by avoiding elevators? The door to her office opened after a brief knock. She had just tossed her jacket over her arm.
    It was when she lifted her eyes to meet the uncompromising gaze of Kyle Sterling that the full impact of the man and what he represented hit her. From a distance his eyes had been interesting, a bold gray set deep into his head and guarded by thick black lashes and brooding ebony brows. Within the proximity of the small room, they were more than commanding or masculine, they held a controlled power that threatened to become unleashed at the slightest provocation.
    â€œMr. Sterling,” Maren managed to say, meeting his severe gaze squarely and ignoring the challenge in his eyes. “You’re early.”
    His gaze swept the room. “And you’re alone…Miss…excuse me, Ms. McClure. Sometimes I forget that we live in liberated times.”
    â€œIntentionally?”
    The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If it serves my purpose,” he admitted.
    Maren inclined her head and smiled stiffly. She extended her hand. “Please call me Maren. It makes things simpler.” Her smile softened and seemed sincere. It allowed Kyle the tantalizing glimpse of straight white teeth and a small dimple. For an uncertain moment he had the feeling that hers was the most honest smile he had ever seen. Her handshake was firm, her fingers warm. He released her palm reluctantly.
    She was more beautiful than he had remembered. He’d met her twice. There had been once in this office for only a few minutes and he’d noticed that she was good-looking. He hadn’t really thought much about it because he met many good-looking women on a daily basis. But there had been the party at Mitzi Danner’s. He’d sensed at that time that she had been staring at him, but by the time he’d had the opportunity to confront her, she was gone. He had never pursued her, knowing instinctively that it could prove dangerous.
    But now, as he stared into Maren’s mysterious blue eyes, he could imagine himself drowning in their intense indigo depths. The blue color was cool, but Kyle suspected it warmed easily for the right man. Delicate black brows and a slightly upturned nose gave her an innocent look that contrasted suggestively with her elegantly sculpted cheekbones and full lips. Maren McClure was an enigma…a provocative enigma.
    Kyle shifted his weight and pushed his hands deeply into his pockets, never once releasing her from the power of his gaze. “I thought you had a late appointment.”
    â€œI did. I managed to cancel.” Once again he was rewarded with the trace of a smile.
    â€œEven though you thought I’d be here later?” he asked skeptically.
    â€œI wanted to be prepared.”
    â€œFor what?”
    A fire sparked in her icy blue eyes. “For whatever it is you think is so important.”
    His brows rose slightly. “And are you?”
    Was it her imagination, or was he toying with her? “I hope so, Mr. Sterling.”
    â€œKyle,” he interjected.
    â€œKyle.” The