Pure physical contentment made the woman’s whole body stretch and sway. It was as if each muscle in her body was crying out to be kneaded and caressed by the heat, every inch of her skin kissed by the glow of the fire.
She soaked it up. Indulged in it. Smiled and sighed at the pleasure of sensation.
And he stood there and watched, lazy desire suddenly turning into raging want. It was sudden. Shocking. Overpowering.
This wasn’t about looking at a woman and acknowledging she was lovely. It was about seeing the secret, sensual side of a mysterious female and knowing that she wanted to be touched--was thinking of being touched--by a lot more than warm air.
And he did know. He’d suspected it when she hadn’t pulled away from him after falling into his arms. Now, seeing her take in visceral pleasure from the warmth enfolding her body, he had no doubt this stranger was one sensual woman.
Watching long, individual tendrils of her dark hair slowly beginning to dry, he swallowed hard as a few strands thickened in soft curls around her face. He would dearly love to see the woman strip off her wet clothing, piece by piece, and stand there, covered only by the golden glow of the flames and her own thick, brown hair.
Lowering his glass, he stepped closer. There was more he’d like to see. A lot more. Like the way her bottom lip would catch between her teeth as a small moan escaped her mouth when she was being caressed. The way those tiny remaining goosebumps on her neck would disappear under the warmth of his touch.
The way her dark eyes would widen and her body arch as he slid inside her.
No.
He’d let his guard down around a sultry stranger once. He’d never do it again.
Clearing his throat, he asked, “Feeling better?”
She finally opened her eyes and nodded lazily. “Definitely. My brain cells are functioning again.”
The rest of her looked in tip-top shape, too.
“I think some of the cold rain slid into my head somehow and made me act like a twit when you opened the door.”
“Yes, that would explain it,” he replied softly, hiding a smile when he saw her brow shoot up in indignation.
She must have seen some hint of humor sparkling in his eyes. “Smart-ass. I was trying to apologize for being such an idiot.”
“An idiot?” He wasn’t sure whether she meant the way she’d curled into his arms, or the way she’d suddenly flung herself out of them. A part of him--the sexual, womanizing part he’d thought had been lost along with a lot of his blood and part of his chest back in Charleston--preferred to think it was the former.
“Thinking you were a ghost or something. You don’t really look like...him.”
“Him?” Simon stepped closer, then sat on the arm of an overstuffed leather chair beside the fireplace. “Please tell me you’re not referring to Casper,” he murmured. “If I’m a ghost, I’d at least like to think I’m a frightening one.
She chuckled softly, and Simon relaxed a little at the sound. He wasn’t used to making small talk with strangers. To light conversation and lighter flirtation. To letting down his guard and laughing. But he was remembering why he’d once liked it so very much.
God, what had happened to the man he’d once been?
The stranger’s pale cheeks were now flushed, though he didn’t know if it was because of the fire or embarrassment. “No, of course not. It was silly. It’s been a long day of driving.” Wriggling a little, she twisted again to face him--and to warm her left side. She tugged at her clothes, but the wet fabric thwacked right back against her skin, the jeans clinging tightly to her. And the sweater...heaven help him, the soft, red fabric was almost glued to those high, full breasts and the taut, puckered nipples beneath.
He needed another drink.
“For the past hour I was thinking of nothing but how scary this place was going to be, and wondering how I’d let myself get talked into coming here.” She laughed softly, a low, whiskey laugh. “But the worse the weather got--and the heavier my eyelids---the more I just desperately wanted to get here so I could get into bed.”
Simon coughed into his fist, glad he hadn’t just sipped his scotch. “Into bed?”
“Sure. That’s the only thing that kept me going, was knowing there’d be a nice big, warm bed at the end of my trip.” She shrugged. “Speaking of which...maybe I should head there and get out of these clothes.”
Simon sat there for a moment, trying to put it together, and finally doing so. The sexy-as-hell woman who’d landed on his doorstep had been sent here. She’d landed in his arms. She’d been wiggling that gorgeous ass and smiling that seductive smile and making him hard from halfway across the room just by the way she savored a little warmth.
She was obviously good at what she did. Very good. And he suddenly began to suspect he knew what that was.
“Who sent you?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet. “Was it Adam? My agent?”
She raised a quizzical brow. “No, I don’t know anyone named Adam.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” he said, thrusting a hand through his hair as the anger and frustration rose within him. Damn his interfering friends. It didn’t really matter who had done it, they were all equally as pushy and intrusive. Any one of them could have done this.
Because he had no doubt he’d finally figured out the secret of this sexy mystery woman. Someone had hired her to come here and cheer him up. Get him back in the saddle, in one way or another. All of those ways involving him getting her naked.
Any normal man would probably be very cheered up at the idea of taking this incredible woman to bed. And if she’d showed up on his doorstep four months ago, he would have done exactly that and not let her up until she couldn’t walk. Or even close her thighs.
He wasn’t that man anymore, however, and didn’t know if he ever would be. So though part of him--a big part--was tempted to help her strip off her wet clothes right here and now, and take her on the thick, plush carpet in front of the fireplace, he simply couldn’t do it. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” he muttered. “Your...services...aren’t required.”
She tilted her head in confusion even as she tried awkwardly to squeeze some remaining water out of her hair. “My services?”
Why did she have to look so adorable, along with being so damn hot? He couldn’t stand the contrast, since both sides of her appealed to him so strongly.
Simon managed to thrust his deep, primal reaction to her away. Crossing his arms and leveling a steady stare at her, he said, “Yes, your services. I’m sure whoever hired you thought they were doing me a favor. But I’m just not in the market.” Though deep inside, a tiny voice protested the lie, he added, “You’re not what I need.”
“Not...”
“So as soon as you dry off, you might as well get back in your car and drive back to wherever you came from. Because you won’t be sharing my bed tonight.”
Her jaw dropped. “Your bed?”
"Right. You are beautiful, I won’t deny it, but I’m just not in the mood for a hooker.”
