Red Shoes and A Diary. Mia Zachary
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Hmm. Actually… No, not yet.
Nick looked down at her hand, then back into her eyes. The intimacy of the touch unsettled her and she snatched her fingers away. Uptight. Inexperienced. Embarrassed.
“The only contraband I have is the soap and the herbal shampoo.” Ducking under his extended arm, she darted toward the bedroom to repack.
“Speaking of things that ought to be illegal…”
Hearing the smoky familiarity in his tone, she turned back in time to see him come out of the living room. Her brows furrowed in curiosity, then shot up in alarm. Would the humiliation of this day never end?
“Guess you’ll be needing these back.” Nick held out one sculpted arm, dangling her bra and panties from his hand. He casually stroked his thumb over her intimate wear.
His fingers grazed the edge of Elise’s panties, tickling the sensitive skin along her inner thigh, before sliding inside… Meghan blinked, tried to refocus. The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked and the look in his eyes was pure mischief, as if he suspected her reaction and dared her to come closer to the source.
Okay. She could do this. Lifting her chin, she threw back her shoulders and walked toward him. He skimmed his fingers across her palm when he returned her lingerie. Another hot current passed between them.
A rush of anxiety immediately followed.
What was she doing flirting with a guy like Nick? He could have any woman he wanted. So what mental disorder made her think he’d waste time on her? Loneliness and longing twisted her heart, overwhelmed her. She was boring, she was frigid—she was doing it again.
Meghan slammed the self-doubt aside, concentrated instead on her mission. The plan was to find an attractive man and then entice him into spending the next week indulging in decadent pleasures. Well, she’d found a guy and he was perfect. Nick was everything she imagined the fantasy lover in her diary to be. His dangerously compelling gaze made her yearn for wild excitement and erotic adventure.
Ask him.
She cleared her throat and prepared to inject a sensuous note into her voice. Then she hesitated, not yet braced for rejection, unwilling to make herself vulnerable. No matter how much she wanted to live out her fantasies, things were moving too fast. She should at least make sure he wasn’t an ax murderer before she tried to take him to bed.
Meghan flicked her gaze away and slid the garments out of his hand. She couldn’t bear to meet his eye and see his reaction to her failed attempt at seduction. “Thank you very much.”
“My pleasure.” His rich voice held more than a hint of innuendo. “You know, you didn’t strike me as the red lace type.”
She pressed her lips together and shoved her glasses back onto her nose. Maybe she wasn’t a Sex Goddess yet, but Elise sure was. Red lace underwear and enough attitude to bring any man to his knees. Including Nick.
“You don’t know me well enough to decide what type I am.” Her voice quavered despite her effort to sound confident. She turned on her heel and went into the bedroom. After dropping her tote bag, she hauled open the nearest suitcase and shoved the lingerie inside.
Old heartache welled up inside her, fueled by memories of shyness and humiliation, fanned by self-doubt and fear. She never seemed to fit in anywhere, not even in her own skin.
ALEX WATCHED the fire die out, watched Meghan pull into herself. He was more intrigued than ever. The lady was a walking contradiction. Those journal entries were hot enough to ignite the pages. But now she acted like she wanted to be invisible.
How in the hell could this be the same woman?
Leaning one hip against the dresser, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. Meghan Elise Foster from Baltimore wasn’t at all what he’d expected. The description he’d gotten from housekeeping didn’t do her justice.
Short, brown curls framed an interesting face. Behind the wire-rimmed glasses, her eyes were the color of a good single-malt scotch. Warm and sparkling with intelligence. Her golden skin was flawless, highlighted by the sweet flush coloring her cheeks. She had freckles on her nose and a stubborn set to her chin.
Her small, but perfectly formed breasts would fit nicely in the palms of his hands. She had round hips, a great butt and her shapely legs went on forever. He was dying to find out how they’d feel wrapped around his waist.
Moving gracefully around the room, she was doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there. But the frequent glances from under her lashes gave her away. Alex grinned. She was trying way too hard to ignore him. Damned if he would let her. He drifted closer, narrowing the space between them.
“Need any help?”
“I can manage, thank you.”
She gathered her cotton T-shirts, linen shorts, and plain black swimsuit out of the dresser. The neatly folded clothing was just as neatly repacked into the suitcase. She brushed past him, unnecessarily close, and her exotic scent filled his senses. Like getting socked in the gut without warning.
“What’s your perfume called?”
She looked over, startled by the question. “It’s body oil, actually. Calendula flower.”
“It suits you.”
“Oh, really. How so?” Wary curiosity laced her tone.
He cocked his head to one side, assessing what he’d learned about her so far. “Sweet, with an unexpected hint of spice.”
She grinned at him, obviously pleased by the description. The shallow dimple added character to an already pretty smile. Alex wanted to feel that mouth all over his body. Lord have mercy, those lush curving lips could get a man into serious trouble.
And “trouble” was just how he thought of her. He had a job to do, had to prove himself to the DEA all over again. He’d been trained to handle every situation with a cool, clear head. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this, wasn’t supposed to lose control. Her kind of distraction he didn’t need.
His body disagreed. Firmly.
When she picked up the cherry-red “seduce me” sandals, his imagination went into overdrive. He saw her laid out on his bed, wearing the sandals and nothing else, reading her journal to him in that soft husky voice. He shifted to ease the pressure on his zipper.
Alex reached into the open dresser, pulled out a nightgown she’d forgotten in the corner. The white silk whispered through his fingers. He held it up by its thin straps, easily picturing the delicate material against her tawny skin.
“What I said before didn’t come out right. I just assumed a classy lady like yourself wore white or pink or cream.”
“And so you were right.”
He noticed her pulse flutter in her throat as he prowled toward her. “But I’ll bet the red lace looks incredible on you.”
“Yes, it does.”
She held his gaze boldly, like she was testing him instead of the other way around. A wild passion burned through the sadness in her eyes when she looked at him and suddenly he recognized her. She was “Elise,” the real woman hiding inside that killer body. No question.
“Why don’t you show me?”
“Why don’t we leave some things to the imagination? I’m not in the habit of letting strangers see me in my underwear.”
“Lady, those teeny scraps of cloth don’t have enough room for my imagination.”
He’d never reacted to a woman like this before. He wanted to strip away the contradictory layers down to the hot babe hiding inside. Uncovering secrets was his business and he wanted to discover hers, despite his mission and the possibility that she was somehow involved.
Meghan didn’t seem like the type to be working for the cartel. Still, he didn’t like coincidences.