Risqué Business. Tawny Weber
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fine with it as we outlined,” she said slowly. From the look on his face, there was more going on than the simple bet she’d agreed to, though. “Has it changed in some way?”
“Nope. Logan announced it on the air, it’s a done deal. You’re going to review a half-dozen books of my choosing for the online poll and we’ll see who the readers agree with.”
The smug assurance in Nick’s eyes made her even more determined to win. God, even the idea of trying to push herself forward made her nervous. But she’d do it. That’s what this makeover was all about. To put herself out there. Learn to be visible.
With that little pep talk in mind, she gave Nick a questioning look, her nerves tight and wary. She felt as if he was waiting to pounce on her.
“Are you okay with the bet?” she asked.
He leaned in close, his breath minty warm on her face.
“I’m fine with it, for what it’s worth. But I’d like to ramp it up a bit. You know, make it a little more…personal.”
The way he said it, as if it were something that involved sliding naked over silk sheets, made her heart pound.
“Like what?” she breathed. More importantly, the formerly alert part of her brain pointed out, why?
“I was thinking along the lines of a side bet. You know, something private, just between the two of us.”
“Were you now? Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you like to be right?”
Score one for him. She might have been physically invisible, but she was definitely not used to her opinions being shunned.
Not that she wanted him to know that. For once, a man was looking at her as if he’d like to eat her up in long, slow, slurping bites. But that wasn’t reason enough for her to make some stupid bet. Was it?
She ran her tongue over her lower lip. His gaze narrowed at the movement, like blue flames sending a spear of desire through her body.
Maybe it was. The rush of sexual energy and the power of having a man physically attracted to her—especially a man like Nick—made here realize she’d be an idiot to ignore the opportunity. The ideal her, the strong, sexy woman she was trying to become, wouldn’t ignore it, she’d grab on with both hands and make it hers.
“The question is,” he said softly as he reached out to trace her lower lip with his thumb, “just how far are you willing to go to prove you’re right?”
The challenge was impossible to ignore. But he wasn’t asking her to take a bet based on intellect. He was trying to move into a completely different arena. One she’d never played in. Who knew fear could give anticipation such a jagged edge.
“I know I’m right. Whether or not you’re willing to admit it doesn’t change my assurance of that fact.”
“I love it when you talk all intellectual like that,” he said, his body so close she could feel the heat from his chest through the smooth silk of her blouse. “You get this snooty, uptight tone going that’s at odds with the sexy glint in your eyes.”
“How do you know I’m not a snooty, uptight intellectual?” she asked with a little laugh.
Rather than the glib, offhand denial she’d expected, Nick’s face turned serious. He stepped back and gave her a slow, intense once-over. From the bottom of her miserably aching feet in three-inch spectator pumps, to her waxed and lotioned legs to the “oh, my god, it’s too short” skirt.
His eyes skimmed her hips, making her aware of curves she’d never realized she even had until she’d put on more fitted clothes. He slid a glance over the wide croc belt at her waist and then let his eyes rest on her breasts, which were outlined by the smooth red silk of her blouse. This gaze didn’t linger long enough to make her uncomfortable, but there was definitely enough heat to warm her body with feminine awareness.
His eyes roamed her face. She wondered if it was a writer’s thing, the way he catalogued her features in that semidetached way.
“You’re smart, I’ll give you that. But there’s nothing snooty or uptight about the looks of you.” His brows drew together and he gave a baffled little laugh. “If anything, under that sophisticated sheen, you give off an air of innocence.”
“Maybe I am innocent. Maybe the sophistication is a sham.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ve been around plenty of women. Enough to know when they are putting on an act and when they are genuine.”
Delaney laughed, she must be better at this pretending stuff than she’d realized. Being taken as a natural sophisticate was both novel and bizarre. But it beat the hell out of him realizing she was really a brainy geek who couldn’t have gotten a roomful of her peers to notice her if she’d sung “The Star-Spangled Banner” at the top of her lungs…while tap-dancing naked.
Exhilarated by his assessment, she sighed and let her body relax as much as possible while in such close proximity to the sexiest man alive.
“So what’s the side bet?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. Not that she’d take it. That’d be insane. But, she had to admit in the privacy of her own mind, Nick Angel was the kind of guy who made a woman want to see how good “crazy” could feel.
“Either prove good sex needs emotions—” he paused, his voice pure liquid heat “—or admit the greatest sex in the world is purely physical.”
“How?”
His stare said it all.
Delaney gasped. Sure, she was attracted to him. What woman with a pulse wouldn’t be? And he’d given her some hot looks that coming from any other guy—to any other gal—she’d have imagined meant he might be interested. But her? And the sexiest man alive?
“You expect me to sleep with you?” she whispered, more a statement than a question. She’d already had sex with the man in her mind at least a dozen times since he’d walked on the set. But to actually have sex with him? She’d have to get naked. Really naked, as in he’d see the actual her beneath the makeup and gel bra. Hell, no.
“Can you think of any better way to prove your point?” he asked with a wicked laugh. The look on his face made it clear he was turned-on by the concept. Delaney narrowed her eyes. It had to be a trick. Guys didn’t give her those long, sexy looks. Not unless they wanted something. Or, in Nick’s case, wanted to distract her. Or worse, make her look like a fool.
Her shoulders tightened.
“Please,” she said with a sniff. “I’m not having sexual relations with you just to win some stupid bet.”
“Aren’t you interested in learning firsthand what my version of intimacy is?”
“Just as much as you want to experience a committed, loving relationship,” she countered, irritation working through her system.
“And you really believe that to have good sex, that emotional thing needs to be present?”
“I do. Passion is stronger than lust,” she insisted. With a wave of her hand, she gestured between the two of them. “How easy would it be to say ‘sure, let’s do it.’ We could walk through that door and rip each other’s clothes off. We could get hot, sweaty and wild. Screams of satisfaction would echo down the hallway.” She eyed the smug look on his face and arched her brow before adding, “Your screams.”
His grin was fast and appreciative.
Delaney’s breath hitched at the sight, but she didn’t let passion cloud her argument.
“But it wouldn’t matter. It’d only be fleeting. Quick, pointless and once it was over, you’d walk away without another thought. That,” she declared, “is lust. Which would only prove my point.”
His