Micha Bennett adjusted her hips to fit perfectly with her partner's. His grip on her waist tightened, and her eyelids fluttered closed as she sank into the blissful sensations of being held. His breath tickled her cheek, and the vibration from his chest as he growled low, made her tingle.

In these moments, with their breaths commingling, his leg sliding between hers, the occasional knocking of their knees, she felt truly happy.

He shifted his hand to her lower back, fitting her more perfectly against him. This time it was her turn to give a satisfied moan. They fit. And every time she was in his arms, it was like someone lit her skin from the inside with firecrackers.

A simple light caress or sidelong glance, or God help her, his lopsided, devilish grin was almost enough to dissolve her into a mass of quivering need—almost. She knew better than to believe in this moment. This was real life. Not a romantic comedy. She was not the cute, quirky girl men fell in love with. She was the sassy and occasionally acerbic best friend who brought the funny. Sitcoms and experience had taught her love never worked out for the sassy black friend.

As much as she wanted to relish the feel of Caleb Atkins' firm thigh separating her legs, or the way his hands caressed her hip and held her to him. Or even better, the way he whispered her name in her ear—low and throaty—she knew this was only an illusion. It wouldn't last. Couldn't last.

"Micha, sweetheart." His voice rolled over her like whiskey, warm and fluid and making her a little bit buzzed.

She rolled her head to meet his gaze. "Mm—hmm." The fire and need speared through her like it always did.

"You're trying to lead again." His faint smile was bemused.

Frowning, Micha narrowed her gaze and tried to relax. She had no idea why she thought she'd survive dance lessons with Mr. Walking Sex Appeal. "Well, if you were on beat we wouldn't have that problem, now would we?"

He chuckled as he deliberately led her on a strong turn. "We both know you already think I'm an excellent dancer. You can't stand not being in control. Unfortunately, this only works if I'm visibly leading, and you don't look pained by it."

"That's funny. I thought you were a security consultant, not a dance instructor."

"I can be proficient at more than one thing."

With his six—foot, three—inch frame, Caleb had the height advantage. Unusual, considering she was five—ten without her heels. It was easy enough for him to assert control again, but it was her natural inclination to take charge. It wasn't like she was doing it on purpose. Except, maybe she was. She forced her arms to relax to his will.

She'd wanted Caleb from the moment she'd seen him. She'd been dying to get to know what he was like in bed, but then he'd insisted on taking her to dinner and ruined everything. Then their two best friends had paired up and severely decreased the chance that she'd ever rock him in the sack. Everyone kept rooting for them to get together, but they clearly forgot that she was relationship kryptonite.

She didn't do relationships. Ever. She'd learned long ago that counting on another person only get her burned. She only trusted Ricca and Jaya, and even that was hard won. She knew better than to entrust any man with her heart. So even a sex—only relationship with Caleb would be messier than she could handle. Sooner or later he would catch a case of feelings, and then she'd do what she always did—drive him away with a proverbial pitchfork. Eventually her friends would have to choose sides, and she would not be on the winning end of that dodge ball game. Jaya and Ricca were the closest thing to family she had, and she would not rock the boat of the group dynamic. Without them, she would be completely alone in the world.

Unless I find my mother.

Micha squashed that errant thought as soon as it surfaced. Wishing for something that was never going to be was a quick way to get a broken heart.

Too bad none of her lectures had dampened the chemistry with Caleb. It was hard enough to try to stay away from the naughty thoughts about him when she wasn't pressed against the thick length of his erection for a solid hour.

She cleared her throat. "Your dancing is fine." And by fine she meant she really hoped there was a correlation between a man's dance ability and his sex abilities. Judging from the way he moved, she was missing out on a hell of a ride.

Caleb barked out a full, rich laugh that turned their friends' heads toward them quizzically. "Your glowing endorsement fills me with the warm fuzzies, princess." He glanced around. "Look, Ricca and Beckett seem to be dancing without bickering at all, and Tamara and Max are even pretending to have a good time. You only have to suffer me leading for another five minutes, and then you can run."

She ground her teeth to keep a biting retort in her head. She could play nice for a lesson or two. But that shit was impossible with her libido in full roar. The whole reason they were even taking lessons was for Jaya and Alec's wedding. They wanted to surprise the happy couple with a rhumba, waltz, and a tango, since Jaya was so obsessed with that celebrity dancing show. But Micha was starting to think this whole thing was a bad idea.

Caleb traced his fingertips down her back, and she immediately regretted wearing her dance clothes. The backless, spandex top and sports bra did nothing to shield her from the onslaught of skin to skin contact. His deft fingers forced her into compliance as his hips led hers in the simple rhumba step. It felt good to let him lead. It felt good to do nothing but follow along and relax for a moment. To allow him to lead her in the sexual dance.

Caleb's voice was low, intimate. "See. You like it when I'm in charge. It feels good, doesn't it?"

At first, his words didn't register, only the low tone and cadence. They sounded like love words someone would say in bed. But then the meaning filtered into her consciousness, and her back stiffened as he spun her out for a turn. She abruptly lost her footing and hit the ground with a thud.

Caleb rushed down to her side. "Shit, Micha, I'm sorry. I thought you were following along. I don't know what happened."

Ricca and Beckett followed suit as did Max and Tamara, all of them chattering at once. Micha rubbed her bruised tailbone. "I'm fine, you guys. Goes to show what happens when I let the white boy lead."

Caleb grinned and offered her a hand. She glanced at it dubiously, but she wasn't so snotty she couldn't accept the help. He hauled her up, bringing her flush against his body. His gaze flitted to her lips, and Micha's body hummed. Holy shit. He was going to kiss her. With everyone looking on, he was going to kiss her. And she wanted it. Something to cut the never—ending tension between them. Something to—

Caleb cleared his throat and set her away from him. "I guess we still have practicing to do."

Their instructor, Gloria, glided into the middle of the dance floor and gave them all a megawatt smile. "Fantastic rehearsal, everyone. Max and Tamara, you're really coming along, and Ricca and Beckett, wow, you look like you've been doing this your whole lives."

Micha scowled. Of course they did. If Ricca was to be believed, she and Beckett spent nearly all their together time doing the deed in all manner of positions. They had plenty of practice moving together.

"Caleb, you and Micha, the chemistry is off the charts, but I need you two to work together on having it not look like a battle. Can you two practice that before next week's class?"

Micha rolled her lips inward and folded her arms over her chest. Yeah, they could practice, with him naked and beneath her—she cleared her throat. If she couldn't say anything nice, probably better to shut the hell up.

Caleb, on the other hand, grinned. "Sure thing, we'll work on it."

As soon as Gloria dismissed them, Micha made a beeline for her purse and jacket. She had a staff meeting at the magazine to prep for, and she didn't want to be late. Mumbling a goodbye to Caleb, she tried to skip out the door without her best friend, Ricca Munroe, seeing her, but Ricca was no fool. She was waiting for her at the exit.

"Where you running to?" Ricca leaned against the door.

Micha tried to skirt around her. "Ricca, can we do this later, honey? I have a meeting."

Even though Ricca was tiny, at five feet she was still formidable, especially when she had something in her sights. "Micha, what was that in there? You and Caleb need to figure this shit out. We don't want to ruin Jaya's day."

And there it was—the guilt. Had it been anyone other than Ricca or Jaya, guilt wasn't an emotion Micha even bothered to entertain. It was a useless emotion. But since those two were the only people she actually loved, they knew how to work that angle.

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. We'll get it together. I promise. I'll call you when I get home."

Ricca scrutinized her. "What's happening with you? You've been off for weeks. You've been short with everyone. And distracted. And you're fighting with Caleb more than usual. Is something going on I should know?"

"Nothing. I swear." She swallowed around the bitter lie. She wasn't ready to talk about what was bugging her, and she didn't need Ricca's and Jaya's pitying looks.

Ricca sighed. "I don't believe you. But I know you won't talk till you're ready, so I'll let it go for now. But whatever it is, I'm here."

Shit. If she stood here any longer, she was likely to go all girly and start with the water works. "Yeah, thanks."

With a quick hug, Micha made her escape and briskly walked the five blocks down Fifth Avenue, back to her office in the Gaslamp. She and Caleb needed to figure things out, and quickly, because she sure as shit couldn't take another class like today's. She'd almost broken down and begged him to screw her already. Maybe it was time to call one of her fuck buddies to try to exorcise him from her thoughts.

Micha dragged her tired, aching feet into the office. Her body still hummed with sexual energy. Sparring with Caleb could do that to a girl. He made her so edgy. Maybe she needed to start scheduling massages after every dance lesson. Absently, she rubbed her butt. He'd dropped her on purpose, she knew it. And she would eventually make him pay for it. Right now, she still had an ad meeting to prep for, models to select for the bikini week photo—shoot, and the features articles to select and proof.

She shouted for her assistant before the door to San Diego Magazine even opened. Sailing through the lobby with a smile to the receptionist, she called out, "Allison, can you move my two o'clock to tomorrow? I really don't think I can stay awake for a budgeting meeting. And while we're at it, move my eight o'clock tomorrow morning to later. I want to see if I can squeeze in a massage with Samantha, and I want to see Erik and Kelli in my office ASAP. I'm having problems with both their articles and…God, I need a coffee…" Her voice trailed off as she entered her office. She still hadn't seen hide nor hair of Allison.

Micha hung up her coat and purse and felt like an Anna Wintour reject. She was pretty sure the legendary Vogue editor's assistants hopped—to when Anna came calling. Frowning, she stared at her desk. A coffee container from Roberto's coffee cart sat on the corner, the notes from Erik's and Kelli's articles sat on her chair with a memo that they would be in her office at 2:30.

Huh? Had Allison been reading her mind? Wow. Who said pregnant women had pregnancy brain? Alli wasn't set to go on maternity leave for another three weeks and already Micha was going to miss her. Who was going to take care of her? Alli was more than her assistant. They were partners and occasional girlfriends. Though Micha had learned the hard lesson once before that employees can seldom be friends unless they have the same work ethic and countenance.

She scooped up the two features articles and gasped with surprise as she noted a foot massager under her desk. What in the world? "Alli, what is this thing doing under my desk?"

She already had her three and a half inch stilettos unstrapped at the ankle when a thin, fastidiously tidy man walked in with a tablet at the ready.

He halted suddenly when he saw her. "Oh, Miss Bennett. You're twenty minutes early. I was hoping to complete set up before you arrived."

Micha studied him. He was slight. Maybe her height. His hair was cropped short at the sides and left a little longer on top and artfully styled with hair gel. His suit slacks, paired with a cuff—linked shirt and sweater vest, conveyed effortless style. His features were delicate, almost feminine, except for the side burns and dusting of five o'clock shadow. His voice was modulated and even, but strong. Not particularly deep; he spoke with the articulation of a theatre actor.

She raised her eyebrows. "Who the fuck are you? And where is Allison? Blonde girl, about yay high. Looks like she's smuggling a beach ball in her stomach."

He smiled sheepishly. "Allison went into labor around lunch time. So she's been taken to the hospital. I'm Ryan Jeroh, her replacement."

Micha stood immediately. "Shit, why didn't anyone call me? I need to send flowers. Maybe get over there. Does her husband know to call me when the baby's born? An—"

He tapped his tablet. "I've already ordered daisies to be sent to Mary Birch Hospital with your name on them. The card reads, 'When does the rug rat start working for me? Love Micha.' I spoke to her husband personally to see if there was anything else she needed, and he will contact us as soon as the baby is born, at which point I'll order balloons. I have an order on for unisex balloons, but I understand you like to be precise, and since they wanted to be surprised by the sex of the baby, we'll all have to wait."

Micha's mouth went a little slack. He was well prepared. Allison was thorough. She'd gone through the list of temps herself and selected who she thought was the best. They'd been training for weeks. When Micha had asked to meet him, Alli said it was best that she was surprised. And her assistant had been right. Micha didn't generally like male assistants. Sexist stereotypes or not, she often thought of men as linear thinkers and not great at multitasking. Maybe she was wrong.

She sat back down. "I see you went to Roberto's."

"Yes. Gingerbread Latte with extra whipped cream."

Even though it wasn't the holiday season, she couldn't help herself. She loved gingerbread and peppermint lattes all year round. "So you know my coffee order."

He nodded brusquely. "I also plugged in the foot massager. Allison made it clear that your feet often hurt after your dance classes, so I had one ordered and brought in. And your meeting documents are already on your chair. I know you like to review everything ahead of time."

She smirked. "Ryan, I have a feeling we're going to get along fine."

He gave her a dazzling grin. "I'm excited for the opportunity, Miss Bennett. Allison spoke highly of you and said she'd learned a lot."

Well, if that didn't fill her with the warm fuzzies, she didn't know what would. "You have the job, kid. I'm not firing you any time soon. Now, I'll need you to move my—"

"Two o'clock? Yes, Ma'am. Already done. I figured it was too close to cut it, with your anticipated one—thirty return hour."

"Oh. Uhm, I also wanted to move my eight o'clock tomorrow to later."

He typed quickly on his tablet. "Done. Is there anything you would like me to move into its place?"

That was disconcerting. Shit, he was more efficient than Jaya. And to Jaya, organization was an art form. "Yes, uhm, I wanted to get a massage."

"With Samantha? I'll call it in."

"Jesus. Are you always so efficient?"

His brows puckered. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

She chuffed a breath. "No. I think we'll get along fine." Between him and Jaya, they'd have every second of her day accounted for.

"This letter came for you." He handed her a medium—sized manila envelope.

Micha's heart seized when she took the envelope and noted the return address. Walker and Associates Adoption Agency. With her thumb, she gently stroked the lettering of the address. Did the answer to everything she'd been looking for lie in this envelope? Would she finally find her family? She ruthlessly squelched the flare of hope. She would not get her hopes up again. Likely this letter said the same thing as all the others. Basically, GFY, go fuck yourself. Mommy Dearest doesn't want to meet you. Micha was probably insane to keep trying, but that lost little girl that no one wanted still lived deep inside her, no matter how hard she tried to exorcise her. She wanted to find her mother, and she would keep pushing until she did. She cleared her throat and dragged her attention back to Ryan. She'd deal with the contents later.

"Oh, and one more thing," he added. "There were flowers delivered for you. Right now they are still on Allison's desk. I wasn't sure if you'd want them in here immediately, or if you'd want them on display for a day."

She chuckled. "On display—you must know a lot of women."

"My girlfriend likes to make sure her birthday flowers are on full display before they start to wilt. I'll never understand it." He shrugged.

She could get used to him. "Nah, bring them on in. I could use the pick me up."

Ryan disappeared to the outer hallway and was back a minute later with a gorgeous purple orchid that he placed on her desk. "Anything else you need from me?"

Yeah, can you come over and organize my shoe closet? "No, not right now, thank you."

Micha checked for a card and didn't find one. Frowning, she touched a delicate petal. Her mind immediately went to the one person who would even dare to send her flowers. Caleb. A slow, involuntary smile tugged at her lips. Infuriating, ridiculous man. Flowers would not make up for him dropping her on her ass.

Micha picked up the adoption agency's envelope again and fingered it. She knew what it would say. The news would be the same as it had been for the past ten years. Every year she petitioned to have her birth records unsealed, and every year she'd been denied. Her birth mother wanted it that way.

It didn't stop her from wishing it would be different. Her hands trembled as she picked up her letter opener and tore the envelope open. She held her breath as she pulled out the letter, only slowly exhaling as she read. The weight of disappointment threatened to crush her as she scanned the page. She would not be meeting her mother this year.

Telling herself the rejection didn't sting anymore, she straightened her shoulders, checked the clock, and cursed. If she didn't haul ass, she'd be late for the staff meeting.

***

When Micha strolled in with a minute to spare, her boss, Miranda said, "Nice of you to show up."

Micha slunk into her usual seat and met the gaze of each of the senior editors. Several of them immediately looked away. She'd learned years ago that she could brazen herself out of most situations. "Sorry, you knew I had an appointment until 1:30." Chew on that, Miranda. Her boss was great for the most part, but when she was under pressure, she tended to want to place the blame on other people. Micha was in no mood. She clicked her pen over and over again, her hand still tingling from Caleb's warm grasp. She really had to get a grip. If she kept this up, she'd be pining for him, staring into his apartment with a boom box raised over her head. Pathetic.

"So, as you know, the WST Entertainment Group, a subsidiary of Westhorpe Inc., has a controlling interest in SDM."

Micha forced herself to pay attention to her boss and not let her mind wander to the feel of Caleb's body against hers. She shifted uncomfortably as heat pooled in her center.

"They've decided to launch an entertainment network. They plan of giving Bravo and E! an actual run for market share. They will be looking for on—air personalities."

Every editor in the room leaned forward in their seats, except Micha.

Fantastic. Now everyone would be posturing, trying to get noticed and selected for an online personality job. Most of them had some experience. Many of them consulted and did some pieces for the local news channels, but that was nothing like being the consistent on—air personality.

The competitor in Micha stood at attention and started cracking her neck and her fingers, shaking out her legs, preparing for the race of a lifetime. But the practical woman in her knew better. A position like that was too exposed, and she'd invite all kinds of hell back into her life. She'd worked much too hard to keep her life nice and normal. If she went on—air, someone would dredge up the past and find out about New York and why she'd run. The gossips would pick and poke at her personal life. And worse, she'd be opening the door for crazy to stroll back in. No thank you.

Her inner competitor scowled, but sat down. Self—preservation was better than winning any day.

Miranda continued as if she didn't see her senior editors posturing for attention. "There is a short list for consideration, based on the kinds of stories you've done, your exposure to entertainment clients, and your history here. I don't have to tell you how critical this role will be. Once we prove ourselves with one show, there will be more."

Micha raised a hand.

"Yes, Micha?"

"Is the position in San Diego or L.A.?"

"Both. Since we are stationed here, and there is a cost benefit to dealing with permits in San Diego, as much that can be done here, will be done here. Like production. Interviews and coverage will obviously be in L.A."

Her inner competitor pouted, but she accepted the truth. Even if she wanted a job like this, which she didn't, her past would catch up to her, and she didn't need that kind of hell.

"The producers would like to speak to Elena, Ryan, and Micha for on—air testing."

Micha shook her head to clear it and make sure she'd heard correctly. "Say what?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Yes, you heard your name."

Inner competitor did a booty dance. "You can pick someone else. I'm not interested."

Miranda's eyes went wide as she stared at her. "You can't be serious."

Micha crossed her arms. "You heard me. Put someone else in the running."

Her boss scowled. "We can discuss after the meeting."

Fantastic. Everyone looked at her like she was nuts. Maybe she was, but she had her reasons.

***

Beckett Mills slapped Caleb on the shoulder. "I'd say on a scale from one to dreadful that probably went over as well as a steak in a dog fight."

Caleb rolled his eyes as Beckett let go of Ricca long enough to poke at him. "Relax Beckett, I'm wearing her down." Caleb knew how to be patient. Knew how to wait. He could wait Micha out.

"It's only taken you two years."

Caleb smiled. "It's a slow burn."

Beckett grinned. "Is that anything like the heartburn I get when I eat at that diner around the corner? 'Cause I have to tell you—"

Caleb playfully nudged him out of the way as he picked up his gym bag. "Don't you have anything better to do? Maybe a job to go back to?"

"Funny thing is, this is my week off. I'm free as a bird unless Alec calls me in."

Bemused, Caleb drew his head back. "You managed to say that without any venom. Do I detect a hint of progress?" Alec and Beckett had started off on the wrong foot when Alec had come into Jaya's life, but now that the two of them worked more closely together, they'd even started to become friends. It made Caleb's life easier not having to be in the middle all the time.

"Yeah, yeah, I might have been wrong about him. Jury's still out." Beckett ran a hand through his hair.

"How long is the jury going to deliberate on this one?"

"Until I'm named godfather of their first kid." He gave Caleb a good—natured smile.

"I hate to break it to you, but isn't it customary to pick godparents out of the family pool first? I'm a shoe—in for the job." Max, Alec's younger brother, strode over with Jaya's sister, Tamara.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Won't you both feel bad when he makes you ushers at the wedding?"

Beckett scoffed. "Usher! I'm too good looking to be an usher."

Caleb nodded at Max. "You ready to go?"

Max nodded and gave Tamara a hug. Caleb couldn't help but notice she wasn't wearing her wedding ring. Maybe she'd finally dropped the dead weight, otherwise known as douchebag hubby. Jaya and Alec had hooked up when Jaya needed a date to Tamara's wedding. For a while, smart money said Tamara wouldn't go forward with the wedding, but she had. Now maybe she was having second thoughts. She smiled cheerily at the two of them and waved her goodbyes.

Caleb clasped palms with Beckett then brought his shoulder in for a bump. Bro hug completed, he led the way out the door of the studio. Just like that, he was back on duty. Every Thursday went the same way. Either he or one of his men would pick Max up from the airport, take him to see Adele and Alec, then to the dance studio, and deposit him back on the plane for Arizona.

As he and Max walked out to his car, Max said, "Jaya's great. She's the kind of family he needs. Big bro seems really happy."

"I think he is." Caleb didn't want to have to comment on their family dynamic, so instead, he asked Max vague questions about his wife and daughter. When Adele Westhorpe, Alec's and Max's mother, had hired him to protect Max whenever the younger Westhorpe was in town, he'd almost said no. The kid had cost Alec and his mother a good deal of heartache, culminating in his testifying against a drug cartel.

Max turned to him. "What about you? Wife, kids on the horizon?"

Caleb shrugged. "Probably one day."

"Don't worry, she'll come around. The dancing didn't look so bad."

"So bad?" Caleb raised an eyebrow.

"Would be eons better if you two could figure out who was going to lead."

"That's what I keep telling her."