All Through The Night. Kate Hoffmann

get intimate. Or when he sobers up, whichever comes first.”

      Nora tossed the paper towel in the wastebasket, then walked to the door. But she stopped before walking out. Maybe Ellie was right. Objectively, she never would have recommended what she was contemplating—a single night of passion, a one-night stand. But she was sick to death of thinking like Prudence. For once, she wanted to break all the rules—and damn the consequences.

      “All right,” she repeated softly. “I’m just going to say goodbye and then we can leave.” As she opened the bathroom door, she glanced over her shoulder at her friend, who was bending to remove the toilet paper from between her toes. “You’re a very good nag. If I ever leave the Herald, I’m going to recommend you for the job as Prudence. You’re beginning to sound more like her than I do!”

      3

      PETE KNEW she wouldn’t be back. She’d find a rear door and slip out without saying another word to him, leaving him to wonder what he’d done wrong. Tomorrow, at the office, she’d act as if nothing had happened. And perhaps another night, she’d put on the dress and the wig and the sexy heels and try again, this time with a real stranger.

      A surge of jealousy pulsed through him as he thought about the next man she’d meet and seduce. He fought the urge to go after her, to call an end to the charade. The game had gone far enough. There was a certain allure in seducing a complete stranger, but both of them knew they were far from strangers.

      Was that what she’d been looking for tonight? Anonymous sex? Did she hide behind the Prudence Trueheart facade by day, only to turn into a wanton woman by night? Pete’s jaw tightened and he cursed. The hell if he was going to let her do this again! He’d walk right into her office tomorrow morning and threaten her with exposure. Sure, it was a rash step, but she couldn’t be putting herself in danger like this again—he damn well wouldn’t allow it.

      What if he’d been some creep with notches in his bedposts? Some guy intent on dragging her home and ravishing her, then dumping her without a second thought? Pete winced inwardly. The description might have applied to him at one time. But Nora Pierce wasn’t the type of woman a guy loved and left. She was different. Special. There was a vulnerability behind her tremulous smile that made him want to protect her, rather than take advantage.

      Maybe it would be better to go directly to Ellie, Pete mused. After all, she’d accompanied Nora to the bar. Certainly, she’d have some influence on Nora’s behavior. And if Ellie wasn’t cooperative, he’d enlist Sam’s help. Pete spun around on his bar stool and ordered a whiskey, neat. When the bartender delivered the drink, Pete gulped it down and ordered another. “This is the end of the game, Prudence,” Pete murmured, his throat burning from the whiskey. “And I’m the last man you’re going to play with.”

      He thought about how he’d broach the subject. She’d probably be angry at his interference, maybe even order him out of her office. By the rules, he’d be required to pretend that nothing had happened between them. That was all part of her little game. At any moment, Pete had expected her to reveal herself, but, instead, she’d fallen deeper into the charade. She was at times coy and flirtatious, then sexy and seductive.

      She wasn’t Prudence Trueheart. Hell, she wasn’t even Nora Pierce anymore. She was a stranger whom Pete found endlessly attractive and intriguing. And she played the role with great enthusiasm. He noticed her wrap, still draped across the back of her bar stool and he idly fingered the soft cashmere, recalling the feel of her skin, the taste of her mouth.

      He’d never expected her touch to affect him so profoundly. Nothing had prepared him for his reaction when her fingers skimmed his thighs, her palms just inches away from his unbidden erection. For that brief moment, they’d existed in a fantasy world, in a place where real life didn’t dare intrude, where her touch and the sound of her voice slowly stoked his desire until he could barely contain the fire.

      By the time she’d walked away, he’d almost been relieved to have been saved from certain embarrassment. They’d reached their limit and the only place left to venture was into more intimate territory. And though he didn’t want the evening to end, he knew it had to.

      Pete swirled his second whiskey in the tumbler, looking to the amber liquid for answers. But the drink couldn’t quell the desire that still racked his body. Liquor just softened the edge a little. It would take a lot more than whiskey to forget this night, he mused. This was the stuff that male fantasies were made of—at least, until she walked out on him.