The knowledge burned inside him from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon every weekday - which were the hours his admin assistant, Briana Bliss, worked, plus a whole load of overtime.
It was Briana he wanted. Even admitting to himself how badly he lusted after her was dangerous. She was out of bounds. Verboten. Untouchable.
Yes, untouchable. And he wanted to touch her so badly that their constant proximity was torture.
The last time he'd wanted a woman this badly he'd married her. Patrick glanced at the picture on his desk, at the smiling face of the woman he'd loved faithfully for more than a decade, including the three years she'd been gone.
"Are you laughing, Janie?" he asked softly, tightening his tie and slipping on his suit jacket. At first when he'd started talking to the framed photo, he'd thought grief might be making him insane, but now he realized it was his way of staying in touch with his memories. Janie's laugh had been light and quick, and he imagined she'd laugh now if she could see him.
Here he was, finally registering signs of vitality in that part of his anatomy he'd thought had died with his wife, and the woman who'd brought them rushing back was the one woman he couldn't have. Not without going against his principles and destroying his career, his credibility and his reputation.
"Honey, you never should have left," he told Janie, knowing that he'd never have thought about Briana sexually if he were married. Janie knew it, too.
She'd been a warm and generous woman who would never want her children to remain motherless for long - or her husband a widower.
"Maybe this is a sign I'm ready to look around? Maybe lots of women would get to me this way?"
Janie didn't reply, merely stared back, forever young, forever smiling.
A soft knock sounded, and the oak door of his office opened. He didn't have to turn to know who had entered. Every male atom in his body - and they were all male - quivered to attention.
He turned and, even though he'd known it was Briana, was still slammed by the force of attraction. God, she was beautiful. Blond and green-eyed, she had a generous mouth and a determined chin. Her blouse wasn't tight or revealing, yet her spectacular curves made it seem both. Her skirt was straight and hung to below her knees, but he had enough imagination to sketch in what couldn't be seen.
At six foot three, he was used to looking down on women, but Briana was tall. Six feet, probably, when she wore those sexy high heels he loved. Like the ones she had on today.
"You've got to hurry," she told him with a quick smile.
"Don't want to keep the chief of police waiting for his dinner."
"I hope Max is more worried about how to make this city safer than he is about what's on his plate," Patrick grumbled. Still, he patted his pockets rapidly to make sure he had his wallet, then grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, holding it so Briana could pass through ahead of him. She stopped to pick up her shoulder bag on the way out, which meant she was going home, too. Good. Too often, it seemed, she worked more hours than he did.
The scent of her reached him. Not her perfume - he didn't think she wore any - but some kind of skin lotion that smelled like the sea air out here in Courage Bay right after it rained. Clean and fresh and bracing.
The scent wasn't remotely sexy, but it turned his libido inside out. He shook his head as he shut the door behind him. The door didn't fit perfectly into the frame and he had to shove it with his hip before he could lock it - one more reminder of last month's earthquake. The way things were going, he doubted the city would ever get around to fixing the minor damage done to city hall. The mayor's door was definitely at the bottom of the list.
At the top of Patrick's list was increasing emergency crews and bettering response times. That's what he'd be discussing over dinner tonight.
He glanced at Briana's swaying hips as she walked ahead of him on those perky heels, and he wished like hell he was having dinner with her. The conversation would be a lot more fun, and so would the view. And then, maybe afterward ...
He shook his head as though he could shake his fierce attraction right out his ears. The rash of disasters and tragedies that had struck his town in recent months ought to have him thinking of something other than sex, but some-how, the added stress of being mayor of Courage Bay, California - which ought to be renamed Bad Luck Bay - hadn't lessened his desire for his assistant. As disaster after disaster struck, he'd worked grueling hours, and Briana had worked right alongside him.
You learned a lot about a person during times of stress, and what he'd learned about Briana was that underneath her megababe exterior was a focused, quick intelligence and a sentimental heart.
She was, in fact, as fine a person on the inside as she was on the outside.
Patrick normally ran down the three levels of stairs from his office to the main foyer of city hall, but a glance at those heels Briana was wearing had him punching the elevator button.
She was holding the printout of his schedule for tomorrow. "Depending on how your dinner goes tonight," she said, tapping her pen against her chin, "I can free up some time tomorrow for a press conference if you need it."
Patrick snorted. "You have more faith in my powers of persuasion than I do. Max and I will talk and argue. We both agree we need more manpower, but I've got a budget to worry about and a council to convince." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the knots of tension there. "I'll call you if ..."
No, he wouldn't. Calling Briana at home, at night, was emotionally pathetic and politically asinine. "Scratch that. If a press conference is necessary, which I doubt, I'll call Archie - he's the media guy. He can pull together a scrum."
The elevator whirred to a stop and the doors slid open. Patrick sent a semidesperate glance down the corridor, only too happy to hold the elevator for anyone - anyone at all - but not so much as the tip of a shoe showed. The corridor was empty, the floor quiet. As usual, he and Briana had outworked the rest of the staff.
Normally, he avoided being alone in closed spaces with Briana, partly because he didn't want to torment himself unnecessarily. He was no more of a sucker for punishment than the next guy.
But there was another reason.
Patrick had been sick to his stomach last year when he saw the grainy footage on the TV news station of then mayor Herman Carter - the married mayor - getting it on with his admin assistant in a sleazy motel.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Aftershocks by Nancy Warren Copyright © 2005 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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