Free Desire: Love and Passion by Lesia Reid

James was pleasantly surprised by how in- depth her historical knowledge was. She probably knew as much about politics as he did. It was refreshing not having to explain many of the little things.
                  "How were the chocolate truffles?" h e asked as they later sat in a large rocker on the deck. She was having her third cup of coffee and he was having a beer.
                  "I haven't tried them as yet," Willow said.
                  "I wil l never buy you chocolate again, " h e said.
                  “ Never say never,” she replied. “Sweets and I have a wonderful arrangement that keeps the waistline small. There’ s never more than an ounce or two in the house.”
                  “So our next date is wine, candles , and condoms,” he said. 
    "Are you agreeing then?"
    "I like where the wine, candles , and condoms lead, b ut, what if after our first go, we haven't fizzled out? What then?"
    "Some chemical reactions take longer to achieve the required results."
    James laughed remembering her other clinical definition of their attraction.
    "So this could b e more than a one night deal?" h e asked.
    "Sure."
    "Now I can't wait for our next date."
    " Well, you’ll just have to. I have a tough schedule for the next few weeks."
    "Ah, you are such a tease," he groaned.
                 
                 

Chapter 7
     
                  For the next ten days they spoke only by telephone. She never called first and never mentioned seeing him again. Following her cue, he too never mentioned their agreement.
                  "Bugger!" s he swore on Wednesday evening as a flat tire grinned at her from under the Jaguar. "Damn it!"
                  She looked at her watch. It was half past nine. Willow pulled out her mobile and scanned through her contacts for Michel. His telephone started ringing before she remembered he was in Paris. She hung up. She would have called Nancy but with kids and husband it seemed unfair to drag her back to work.
                  Willow thought about calling a cab or taking a bus. The cab might be okay, except getting out tomorrow morning also meant calling a cab. The bus was not a bad idea, except the closet stop to her location was quite a ways on foot. She pulled Larry's card from her purse.  He answered on the second ring.
                  "Yes." He made it sound as if he was being disturbed.
                  "This is Willow Barnes," she said in a crisp voice. "You asked me to call if I needed help.  I have a flat and I'm at my office. Can you help?"
                  "Certainly." This time he sounded annoyed that she took him up on an insincere offer. "Will you be inside your office?"
                  "Yes. My direct number is -."
                  "I have your number. The driver will call when he arrives."
                  Larry hung up before she could get as much as a thank you out.
                  Willow returned to her office and called a local garage.  Unfortunately, her car could not be towed or serviced before noon on Thursday. She settled down to review the final batch of model portfolios for her new magazine commercial.
                  Her telephone rang precisely a half hour later.
                  "I'm at the front door."
    She recognized James' voice immediately.
                  "What are you doing here?"
                  "You can ask me when you open the door," he said.
                  "Oh."
                  In her surprise, she had not moved from her desk. Now she hurried out of the room and to the front door where the barely visible face of James Monroe was pressed up against the glass. He was in a business suit. She guessed she was not the only person working late.
                  "What are