But as he opened his own door and closed it again, he froze. Because he was not alone. His hand stuck to the light switch as he heard soft breathing; after a moment, he lowered it, carefully.

My .45 is tucked right on top of the Webster’s. Whoever this is—

“Don’t bother looking for your gun,” came a whisper from behind him, as he stealthily reached toward the top of the bookcase by the door, where he kept his automatic. “I moved it.”

A pair of hands rested on his shoulders for a moment, and turned him carefully around. “I figured your reflexes were as automatic as mine,” Jennie continued, with a chuckle, “and I didn’t want to get shot.”

She laughed softly, deep in her throat. It was the most incredibly sexy laugh he’d ever heard. He brought his hands up, slowly, and she fitted herself into his arms.

“Jennie, what are you doing here?” he said, finally. A stupid thing to say, but it was the only thing his stupefied brain could come up with.

“Sexual harassment,” she said. “Trying to see if I can get my new secretary to go to bed with me.”

“Assistant,” he replied, firmly. “I’m holding out for assistant. I may be easy, but I’m not cheap.”

Jennie chuckled again, and pulled him over to the bed. “All right,” she agreed. “Assistant it is.” She began unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, taking the initiative. “So long as it’s understood that I am the one seducing you.”

“Yes, boss-ma’am,” he replied obediently. His fingers touched the top button of her jeans, and stopped there. “By the way, if you don’t mind my asking—why now?”

“Because I don’t like to be herded,” she said, fiercely, then pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, licking the corners of his mouth, nibbling his lower lip. “I don’t like conspiracies—especially when my own family is doing the conspiring.”

“I prefer cooperative efforts, myself, boss-ma’am,” he agreed, then returned the kiss with interest. Her skin tingled at the touch of his tongue; his technique had definitely improved. He pulled away just long enough to ask, “Your safe-sex, or mine?”

“Mine,” she replied, rattling the little plastic packet she pulled out of the pocket of her jeans. “I’m the boss, remember?” She took the upper hand again, pulling him down onto the bed and tumbling after, pulling his shirt off and starting on his jeans. He returned the favor, slipping his hands up under her T-shirt.

After that, things only got better.

She couldn’t help making then-and-now comparisons—but they all came out in favor of “now.” This was a double bed, not a bunk. They didn’t have to worry about being caught by the R.A., or by his or her roommate. He was a better, more considerate lover. So, she hoped, was she … at least she’d learned how to make putting on a condom a sensual experience.