The only thing for it had been to jump in a cool shower and drink a cup of strong coffee. But still, as she’d made her way to the office on the Tube, memories of the dream had haunted her. She’d forgotten those long, devil hands that had reached up from the carpet and clawed at her like devils’ helpers. And that Dylan’s friends had all worn hooded shrouds and cackled at her like witches pleased with their catch.

She shuddered and looked away from the shoe she’d actually walked down the aisle in. It didn’t hold good memories.

After pressing the door shut and dropping her keys into her purse, she glanced at her desk.

“Oh shit.”

Again her heart rate picked up and a flush of heat travelled over her chest. There was actually very little left on her desk. The shiny wooden surface was clear apart from her laptop and a single sheet of crumpled paper.

Thank goodness her Mac hadn’t gone flying. That would have been a major problem.

She rubbed her fingers over her lips and looked at the scatter of files, folders, papers and pencils on the floor. The stapler was spread open as if performing the splits. She’d been so wrapped up in James ‘Hot Guy’ Carter that she hadn’t given a hoot what had upended.

And not surprisingly, because damn, the bloke could kiss. He had the most sensual, pliant lips she’d ever had the pleasure of pressing against hers. And he’d tasted of everything she’d been missing in her life—heat and man, a hint of beer and a whole lot of desire.

“Oh God,” she muttered and bent to retrieve the lewd stapler that displayed its insides. She recalled wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to his hard biceps, offering her neck for his kisses.

A shiver of pleasure rattled up her spine. Oh, the feel of his neat sprinkle of stubble on her throat, the scent of his spiced cologne, the heat of his body seeping into hers.

“Stop it!” Megan gathered up her sketchpad and a sheaf of papers. “It’s over now. Before it started.”

Of course it was over. She’d behaved like a deer caught in headlights. As soon as it had been a definite they were going to take it further on her desk, she’d put on the brakes and pushed him away.

No, she’d done more than push him away. She’d upped and ran, left the poor bloke standing in the rain as she’d taken off around the corner as fast as she could.

She hadn’t even looked back when she’d heard him call her name as she’d jumped into a cab. That couldn’t have been a clearer message.

Leave me alone. I’m not interested.