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gotten to know each other.
    Now she was afraid she'd thrown away the best thing to ever happen in her life.

Chapter Eight
    "So, you're going to go? After all that bitching about your date with the man, after the way he dumped on you at the closing, you're still going to go?"
    Macy Webb stood in Lauren Hollister's bedroom doorway, watching as Lauren settled on a periwinkle suede fringed skirt and a silver silk corset that left the biggest part of her assets bare. She left her legs bare, as well, and slipped her feet into a pair of easily slipped-out-of periwinkle blue mules.
    "And that's what you're going to wear?" Both of Macy's eyebrows went up. "What happened to conventional and old -fashioned?"
    They'd closed on the loft yesterday. And they needed to get busy packing. But Anton Neville had called and asked Lauren to meet him at the loft. Alone. Tonight. At nine.
    Lauren turned side to side and examined her reflection in the full-length mirror. With this outfit and her hair in a wispy knot on top of her head, she looked hot, if she did say so herself.
    "Yes, this is what I'm going to wear. Anton Neville can take conventional and old-fashioned and shove it. He wants to see me? He's going to see me."
    "A whole lot of you, in that outfit," Macy added.
    "What's wrong with that? I'm a fun, fearless female. Screw him if he doesn't like it."
    Lauren only hoped she could keep up the charade. Her insides were melting like butter and she was afraid if he came too close she'd pour herself all over him.
    Equality be damned. He was sexy as hell, both his mind and his body. The combination was an incredible turn-on. More than that, however, the combination had captured her heart. She only hoped she hadn't messed things up forever the day she'd walked away.
    Macy gave a quick nod. "Looking like that? I'd say screwing is a definite possibility."

    Anton stood on the loft's balcony, leaning against the railing as he watched the taillights of the traffic four stories below. He was waiting for Lauren and he wasn't sure he wouldn't still be waiting come morning. She'd vaguely agreed to meet him, as long as nothing else came up, or so she'd said.
    He still had a key and he'd let himself in. He didn't think Lauren would mind, if she showed up and if she hadn't already written him off. He wanted to give this a go. If he had to rein in his insistence on having things his way, he'd give it his best shot.
    Lauren Hollister was too special not to work out a compromise.
    He heard the newly installed elevator motor engage and his heart flipped in his chest.
    He glanced quickly around the balcony, where he'd set up a chaise longue with a coverlet and pillows. On the table beside, candles still burned. The wine was chilled.
    He wondered if Lauren had brought the condom. He had others, of course, but there was something about that particular one….
    "Anton?" she called.
    Even the way she said his name was enough to make him weak in the knees. "Out here. On the balcony."

    He'd left the sliding glass doors open and now he leaned his backside against the railing and turned to face the darkened loft. He heard her footsteps as she made her way across the floor. He couldn't see her, but he knew she could see him. He wasn't sure he'd ever had so much trouble drawing a breath.
    His heart thumped furiously in his chest. And when she finally reached the doorway, a vision of glittering silvers and blues, he knew he was in more trouble than he'd ever imagined possible.
    "Hi," she said and stepped outside into his world.
    She glanced around and, even with nothing more than the light from the moon, he knew she could see the romantic stage he'd set. She grinned and Anton held his breath, hoping she wasn't about to laugh at his plans for seduction.
    She did laugh, but it was the purest sound of joy, a filling of her soul with the moment, and happiness spilling like bubbling champagne and… God, but he needed to be committed, writing poetry in his mind instead of