Because beneath the oversize coat she wore a black blouse, saved from conservatism by a plunging neckline and a microminiskirt that emphasized her slender legs, which were covered only by sheer, nude-colored panty hose. At least he hoped they were panty hose, because if he caught a hint of a lace garter, he'd pass out on sight.

He strode over to her desk, grabbing her hand. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"Coffee break," he muttered, pulling her through the double doors to a stairwell. It wasn't exactly prime office space, but it afforded the only means of privacy he could think of.

Not even the dank smell could dampen his desire or his need to get inside her, body and soul. Once alone, he backed her against the wall, propping one arm over her head. "Who really sent those flowers?" he asked, his baser male instincts coming through.

"You care?"

He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. "I may have one hell of a way of showing it, but I do."

"Stan Blecher sent the flowers," she admitted.

"What the hell does the old man think he's doing?"

"The obvious. Trying to make Emma jealous by paying attention to me."

"And you don't want to help his plan?"

Rina rolled her eyes. Men could be dense when it came to matters of the heart. "Of course I do. But I don't want to hurt Emma. She's not just independent by choice, but rather by necessity. She's afraid her son will put her in a home. If she lets herself get close to a friend of his, she fears the same result."

"She said that?"

Rina shook her head. "Insinuated it. And I don't want to be the one to push her into something she's not ready for. Stan admitted he just wants Emma's companionship, but until she can trust him, she's not going to give an inch." Which pretty well summed up any female who'd been hurt or disillusioned by a man, Rina thought.

"So you're looking out for her."

"That's what friends do," she murmured.

"That's what special, caring people do." His blue eyes bore into hers, causing warmth to blossom in her chest.

After working at her computer all day yesterday and late into the night, finishing this week's column, Rina had had it with sweatpants. She'd had it with being alone and she no longer wanted to make Colin sweat. Not in a bad way, anyway. Saturday night was over, and so was her overreaction to Colin's defection. Joe had been in the hospital. Case closed.

So this morning, she'd dressed with Colin in mind, seeking to grab his attention and not let it go. It had been a girlish impulse and she'd accomplished her goal. But as usual, Colin had more insight than she'd counted on. He'd looked beyond the physical, deeper than the packaging. He'd seen the woman beneath and obviously admired her.

He tangled his hands in her hair, the erotic tugging sensation rippling through her veins. His admiration and perceptiveness took her off guard. She wanted to keep her barriers high, but resisting him was impossible. And when he lowered his head for a deep, leisurely kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

His lips were warm and provocative, taking possession and immediately setting her on fire. No big surprise there. Her tongue met his, swirling, seeking, demanding as much as he gave. And then his hands slipped to her thigh, his large palm branding her. "Do you have any idea what that short skirt does to me?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Looking at those long legs makes me hard." He deliberately brushed against her thigh, giving her tangible proof.

She sucked in a breath, her body reacting to the knowledge he wanted her. Here, now, in the dark stairwell, Colin Lyons wanted her. His body backed up his claim and hers went into heated overdrive. Dampness slicked her panties and a rush of desire swamped her.

"And wondering what's holding those things up is driving me insane." Without awaiting permission, his fingers traveled upward until they came in contact with the elastic-rimmed lace that held the stockings up on her thigh. His fingertips hit bare skin and he let out a sharp, harsh breath. "Damn."

She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "These are more comfortable."

"For whom?"

She laughed. "For me. Panty hose cuts into my stomach."

"What happened to the baggy clothes?" A muscle ticked in his jaw and Rina knew her new look was getting to him.

But far from enjoying the knowledge, it made her uneasy. Because she wanted to know for sure that Colin was attracted to Rina Lowell, the woman. And though he showed interest in the many facets of her personality, she couldn't deny he was enjoying her transformation.

So had Dave from the coffee shop, who'd turned persistent, and Rob who'd delivered her pizza last night. She could have had a date with a number of men, including the wealthy Edward Worthington III. But not even in the interest of research could Rina bring herself to go out with anyone other than Colin.

"And what's beneath the skirt?" Colin asked. "What's warming you during this cold, winter weather?"

She was tempted to tell him that she didn't need clothing, not when the heat in his voice could do the trick instead. "Good old-fashioned underwear, Colin, what else?"

An upward sweep of his fingers over her silk-covered mound assured him she was telling the truth. But that same motion set off fireworks inside her brain and triggered mini-explosions, the equivalent of minefields in strategic areas of her body. Her nipples peaked, aching for his touch, and a dewy heaviness pulsed between her legs. "You don't play fair," she whispered.

"Dressed like that, neither do you." His mouth hovered over hers.

Her lips parted, craving another kiss, but he gave more than she asked for as his finger found the pulse point between her legs. Arousal washed over her, and she jerked her hips forward, seeking to deepen the pressure of his fingertip.

"That works for you, huh?" Resting his cheek against hers, he leaned his body forward, thrusting his hand harder against the tiny pearl of desire begging for release.

"Oh, yes." Her lips lingered against his skin as she inhaled his masculine scent and her desire peaked higher.

This game they played would drive her to distraction if she wasn't careful. She squeezed her thighs together, allowing one last tide of arousal to sweep through her before ducking beneath his arm and gaining space. She needed more time.

He seemed to understand and let her go, studying her in the darkened stairwell, as if he could read what she was feeling in her expression. Rina knew exactly why she'd put distance between them. She wasn't willing to verbalize her thoughts just yet.

While writing her column on attitude, she'd come to a major realization. Looking good meant nothing if a woman didn't feel good about herself. A woman couldn't attract a man, let alone keep him happy, if she wasn't happy within herself.

Translated into her own life, once she'd quit work and given in to Robert's choices in decor and friends, among other things, spunky Rina Lowell had all but disappeared. She no longer threw on a T-shirt and ripped denim shorts and walked through New York City street fairs, nor did she shop the Village for unique but cheap jewelry that would stand out because of its flair. She quit going to the happening clubs where she'd nurse a drink and dance until her feet hurt. Instead, she got old before her time, giving up her fun friends in favor of her husband's staid ones, exchanging nights out on the town for fund-raising galas. She'd even altered the way she dressed in order to gain Robert's nod of approval.

She may have looked good in her designer clothes, but she'd slowly lost her inner spark and drive. No wonder he hadn't taken her seriously when she'd expressed interest in writing or doing something outside the confines of their marriage. She'd been the perfect Stepford Wife.

Robert thought a credit card would keep her happy, and eventually she stopped doing anything to convince him otherwise. Because he was giving her a dream life. Too bad it hadn't been her dream. She loved him, but she was beginning to doubt they'd have had staying power. The lesson she'd taken away from her latest article, "Strut Your Stuff," was that she now respected herself too much to settle for a man who didn't believe in her, her goals or her dreams.

Not even for a brief affair. She already knew Colin approved of her work. He'd hinted as much at Emma's party. But before she'd give in to his seductive charm completely, she had to know he accepted everything about her.

"Come dancing with me," she said on impulse. "Friday night."

He leaned against the wall, still holding her gaze. "Dancing?"

"Are you game? I thought I'd check out the Boston nightlife." She needed to recapture the fun she'd been missing and she wanted Colin to be part of it.

He shrugged. "Why not? Someone has to watch out for you." His lips twitched as he held back a grin.

"I don't need a keeper."

He shook his head, amusement and seriousness warring in his expression. He ran his hand down her neck and dipped his finger into her cleavage, causing her blood to run hotter.

"Something tells me your brother wouldn't agree."

"Low blow." Accurate, she thought, but low. "Jake's a reasonable guy."

Colin's eyes held a wealth of certainty. "Even when it comes to his baby sister?"

"Even then," she lied, and crossed her fingers behind her back. "So? Do we have a date? Or am I flying solo?" She wasn't looking forward to nursing a drink and either fending off men or uncomfortably wondering why none approached her. Neither option held any appeal.

Spending time with Colin, however, that prospect appealed to her greatly.

He met her gaze, studying her in an unnerving way. "Why do I feel like you're testing me?" he asked. "And how do I know if I'll pass muster?"

She was testing herself, Rina mused. Her reactions, her judgment. "You'll know," she said, her voice husky with anticipation.

"Then we have a date. Since I know the roads, how about I pick you up? Actually, how about we bring Logan and Cat along?"

"As chaperons?" she teased, liking the idea of spending time with his friends.

He grinned. "For fun."

"Sounds good to me."

A loud knock sounded on the other side of the stairwell door. Colin shot her a regret-filled look and stepped toward the door. Freedom, she thought, and sighed.

"Rina Lowell, you get out here now." Emma's distinctive voice called to her.

"Some matchmaker," Colin said wryly.

Rina grabbed for the handle. "I'll go out ahead. That will give you some time to calm down," she said with a pointed look at his pants.

He shot her an annoyed look. "Very funny," he muttered, but he didn't argue when she let herself back into the hall.

"What's wrong, Emma?"

The older woman waved the white florist card under her nose. "You're being wooed by the lecher." Emma perched her hands on her hips and stared, daring Rina to disagree.

"You mean Colin?" she asked too innocently.

"You mean Colin?" Emma parroted. "Very funny. Stan's sending you flowers. I told you the man was a lecher. Proclaiming his interest in me one minute, showering you with roses the next."

"They're wildflowers, not roses."

"Same difference."

"Not in price," Rina said. "And you were snooping." She snatched the card out of Emma's hand.

"And your lipstick's smudged, which means you were fooling around. How many men are you juggling, anyway?" The older woman sniffed and Rina stifled a laugh.

Placing an arm around Emma's shoulders, Rina led her back inside and to her chair before easing her into her seat. "You, Emma Montgomery, are jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S. Because Stan's showing interest in someone else after you turned him down."

"Ridiculous."

"Correct," Rina challenged. "And you know good and well Stan's a smart man. He knows you work beside me, knows you can't keep your eyes or ears to yourself. And he knows you'll find out he sent me flowers and work yourself into a frenzy. Which you did." She clucked her tongue at her elderly friend. "Tsk, tsk, Emma. You shouldn't be so predictable. Men need a woman to be fickle and impulsive." Unable to help it, Rina burst out laughing. "Come on, Emma. Just go out with the man."

"What if it's a setup?"

Rina understood what her friend meant. What if her son, the infamous Judge Montgomery, had asked Stan to keep an eye on Emma? And what if she was her usual, capricious, whimsical self and her son used it against her? "I can't imagine a son of yours could be so underhanded."

Realizing how many stunts Emma had pulled in the name of matchmaking, Rina shook her head. "Scratch that. But I can't imagine he'd be that cruel. Besides, Logan wouldn't let that happen." She patted Emma's hand. "The man's a lonely widower. And you're in need of the same companionship."