“Jewelann Kahan,” he whispers into my ear. “You smell the same.”

I pull away. “Jordan. My name is Jewelann Jordan now.”

It would be so easy to forget that with his hands on me.

“J.J.,” he says. “Welcome to the double initial club. I like it.”

I take another step back from him. I’m not wearing a watch. My phone is tucked into my clutch bag, abandoned on the end table. I don’t know what time it is, only that it’s late. I have an hour’s drive back home.

But I don’t have what I came for … not quite yet.

“I should go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Christian says. “We have a whole other bottle to drink.”

I look at the buckets with their melting ice. “You haven’t been drinking anything.”

Christian tries to hide his surprise with another of his cocky grins, but I catch the flash in his eyes. “Guess I wasn’t thirsty.”

It’s my turn to smile. “Oh, I think you’re thirsty, all right.”

Another flash in his blue eyes. Another slow grin. “Jewelann Jordan, you’re still a bad girl. Aren’t you?”

I am bold. I am seductive. I am the one in charge here, even if he thinks otherwise.

Christian pulls me close again, and we spin, spin, spin. I don’t know if what we had before was ever really love, but I’ve always wanted him. I’ve always wanted him to want me. So I let him kiss me, and I let his hands wander up and down my body, and I even allow him to pull me into the bedroom.

“Take off your clothes,” I command, “and get on the bed.”

Again, surprise. Then a gleam of heat in his gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”

His body is lean and muscled, but not in perfect shape. There’s a softness around his belly easily hidden by the well-tailored clothes. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his tight boxer briefs and slides them over his thighs without hesitation. Christian is proud of what’s underneath them. He tosses his clothes onto the floor without a second glance, a man used to someone else picking up after him, and a spark of jealousy flares inside me. Who’s been taking care of him all these years?

He pushes himself back against the headboard, thighs spread, giving me a full view of what he’s offering. I’ve seen it all before. I’d despise myself for the warmth of arousal stirring in my lower belly, except it’s mingled with a heated glee at how easy it was to get him into this position. How obvious his wanting is.

“Now you,” he says with a gesture. “But do me a favor, please. Keep those pretty shoes on.”

My pretty, pricey shoes. Oh, I plan to keep them on, all right. I never planned to take them off.

I shake my head. “It’s really late. I need to go.”

“You’re kidding.”

I smile.

Christian scowls. “You didn’t put on that dress tonight just so I couldn’t take it off you.”