The Mighty Quinns: Declan. Kate Hoffmann
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spray, an unconventional approach, but it hadn’t scared him away. They’d begun talking when she’d offered her apology. She’d made her intentions clear by touching him that morning and admitting her attraction.
If they proceeded in a normal manner, there would be a gradual escalation until their bodies began to synchronize, moving together to caress…to kiss…and finally, to make love. It was all very scientific and quite predictable.
Rachel grabbed her sweater from the bed as she walked out of her room. She expected to find Declan dressed and waiting for her. When he wasn’t, she walked to the guest bathroom, finding the door open a crack. “I’m ready,” she said. “Are you?”
He pulled the door open and Rachel found him, dressed only in a towel, his face half-covered with shaving cream. “I’m sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I got caught up on the phone. It’ll just take me a few minutes.”
Rachel nodded, then pulled the door closed. But at the last minute, she let go of the knob and it gaped open. From her vantage point in the hall she could see Declan’s reflection in the wide mirrors that lined the wall behind the sink.
She made a silent study of his body, for the first time having the time to fully appreciate it. Muscles shifted and bunched across his back as he leaned over the sink, bracing one hand on the countertop. Rachel’s fingers twitched as she imagined the feel of his skin, warm and smooth, with hard muscle beneath.
He tipped his head back as he shaved his jawline. There was something so erotic about his task, though it was nothing more than an everyday occurrence to most men. It was patently masculine, something that Rachel had never fully appreciated. In truth, she could spend hours watching him shave and never really get bored.
Her gaze dropped to his waist, so narrow, then his hips. The towel rode low and when he bent forward, she could see the curve of his backside outlined by the soft terrycloth. Rachel knew she was invading his privacy, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about Declan’s body that captured her attention. Every detail seemed to spark her deepest fantasies.
He straightened, then ran his hand through his hair and an instant later, the towel dropped to the floor. Rachel held her breath, growing slightly dizzy as she did. Oh, he was beautiful. He stepped away from the mirror to turn on the shower and she caught a full frontal view. A tiny moan slipped from her throat and he turned.
Frantic, she pressed her fingers to her lips and stepped away from the door. A few seconds later she heard him turn on the shower. Emboldened, Rachel stepped back to the door and took another peek. The shower door was clear, letting in the light from the bathroom. Through the glass she could see his outline as he moved beneath the water.
Her gaze ran up and down the length of his body, her attention immediately drawn to the tantalizing curve of his hip and buttocks. Researchers always focused on the physical beauty of the female form and its effect on the male of the species, but very few had acknowledged that the male body was just as intriguing.
Rachel felt a warm flush wash over her body and she turned and leaned back against the wall. If she truly wanted to seduce him, then she’d have to be careful. Appearing too eager might result in disappointment. Research had shown that it was always better to prolong the chase, to extend the anticipation until neither party could hold back any longer. She just wasn’t sure if time would be her enemy or her friend.
If Declan caught the stalker tomorrow, then there’d be no reason for him to continue living with her. But if the danger lasted for more than a few weeks, then prolonging the chase would be a bit sadistic. Timing would be crucial to success or failure.
Rachel took a deep breath and focused her thoughts. She wouldn’t make the common mistakes that women often made—she wouldn’t be too aggressive or too passive, she wouldn’t promise what she wasn’t willing to deliver, and she certainly wouldn’t let Declan call the shots.
The sound of the shower suddenly ceased and Rachel hurried back down the hall to the living room. This would be the most complicated social experiment she’d ever conducted. But if she was careful, she’d get exactly what she wanted—Declan Quinn, naked, aroused, and in her bed.
A few minutes later, she heard him exit the bathroom and a few minutes after that, he appeared, fully dressed in a nicely pressed blue oxford shirt and khaki trousers. He’d combed his hair with his fingers and it stood up in damp spikes.
He walked over to the dining room table and seemed to pick up a leather belt. But on closer inspection, Rachel realized it was a shoulder holster, with a handgun in it.
“You carry a gun?” she asked.
He glanced over at her and nodded. “I will when we’re out in public. Just in case.” He slipped the holster over his arms, then buckled it in place. “All right,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Where are we off to first?”
She wanted to blurt out “bed,” to push him back down the hall toward her room, undressing him as she went. But Rachel cast aside that fantasy. “My office on campus,” she said. “I have to check in with my research assistant and pick up my messages. And there should be a few packages waiting for me.”
Rachel grabbed her purse and her briefcase, then walked out into the hall to the elevator. A few seconds later, Declan joined her. He’d put on a linen sport coat, part of the wardrobe he’d had delivered to the apartment earlier that morning, the outline of the holster was evident through the fabric.
Though she knew it was there to protect her safety, the gun gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach. Declan was taking her case very seriously and he was a professional. If he needed a gun to protect her, then there must truly be danger. Still, she trusted him to keep her safe. As long as he was by her side, then she could go about her business as usual.
“My office on campus is only a ten-minute walk,” Rachel said.
“We’re taking your SUV,” he said.
“But it’s such a nice a day and I thought we could stop and get coffee before we—”
“No stops, no walk,” he said. “The vehicle is safer.”
His expression, so relaxed just a few moments ago, was now tensed. His jaw was tight and his gaze hard. “We follow my rules, all right?”
She stiffened her spine and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “All right. But don’t think you can just order me around. You can simply explain why we have to do things your way and I’ll understand.”
He turned to her. “There may be times I can’t explain,” he said. “I need you to promise me that whatever the situation, if I ask you to do something, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“We’re both adults and we should both be able to resolve any conflicts we might have with discussion. But we can’t if you get bossy.”
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