Pursued by the Playboy Read Online Free PDF Page B

small victory.  “Seven,” he confirmed, before hanging up softly.
    When she arrived, a few minutes past the appointed time, he was already waiting at the bar, wondering whether she’d decided to no-show after all.  And then she was there, slim silhouette encased in a dark blue sheathe dress that skimmed her legs and accentuated the color of her eyes.  Dangling silver earrings caught the light and drew attention to her long neck.  He rose to greet her with a sense of relief completely out of proportion to the occasion.  
    “It’s my first time here,” she said after they were seated.  “Even though I’ve lived in the neighborhood forever.”
    “Forever bei ng—what, twelve years?”
    “Minus two years out at Berkeley ,” she said.
    “And how was that?”
    She shrugged.  “No snow, but plenty of fog every morning .  The rest—same as here.  Lots of work to keep me busy.”
    “Meaning you didn’t experience much of the local culture because you were working?”
    She bristled at the implied criticism.  “ I didn’t say I work ed all the time.” 
    “ Ok, I’ll bite.  What d id you do in your spare time ?”
    She carefully adjusted the napkin on her lap.   “I ran.  The Fire Trail, mostly.  Sometimes up to Panoramic Way .  From the top you could see all of Oakland , Berkeley , and San Francisco spread out in the distance.  Pretty amazing views.”
    “Sounds like it.  You still run?”
    “In the mornings, a few times a week.  Down to Jefferson , or if I have time, to Penn’s Landing, and back.  How about you?”
    He grinned ruefully.  “Knees aren’t what they used to be.  Tore my ACL a while back, skiing.   Now I mostly bike and swim.  But I could probably keep up.”
    Her eyes slid over his broad shoulders and chest.  The black crew-cut shirt and matching lightweight jacket did nothing to disguise the strength and sheer sexuality of his body.    What the table hid from view, her memory supplied:  erotic images of chiseled abdomen, powerful thighs, tightly muscled male buttocks flexing beneath her hands and she urged him deeper into her body.  Her gaze met his and she gulped at the raw heat reflected there.  She broke eye contact and took a hasty sip of water. 
    Their waiter arrived just then, providing a welcome interruption as he recited the evening’s specials and took their orders.  He returned briefly to pour their wine, then again withdrew.  Marc picked up the thread their earlier conversation.  “What else did you do at Berkeley ?”
    “I was twenty-three, twenty-four, fresh out of grad school.  On my own in the most pinko-liberal college town this side of Amsterdam .  What do you think I did?”
    “I don’t know,” he said, deadpan.  “Work?”
    She laughed.  “Fine, I confess.  Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll are highly overrated.”
    He ran a light finger over the back over her hand, lingering at the vee where her thumb met her palm.  His voice wrapped around her like a warm caress.  “Surely not sex?”
    She shivered and withdrew her hand.  “What about you?  How do you spend your time when you’re not working?”
    His wolfish grin sent a wave of heat through her belly and stained her cheeks pink.  His words, by contrast, were mild.  “Let’s see.  We’ve already covered sports—of various descriptions.  Then there’s family.   We get together fairly regularly for holidays and birthdays and whatever the latest excuse for celebration Sophia can come up with.  There are lots of us—a whole extended brood of aunts and uncles and cousins, all living in and around the city.  Dad and Sophia host most of the time.  The old family compound sits on a few acres in Wayne , so there’s space for all of us without feeling cramped.  When we were growing up , they used to keep stables.  Izzy even competed at dressage for a few years at the Devon Horse Show.  None of us has time for it any more, except for the purely perfunctory