The Millionaire's Club: Jacob, Logan and Marc: Black-Tie Seduction / Less-than-Innocent Invitation / Strictly Confidential Attraction. Brenda Jackson
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lose the duds. We’re going skinny-dipping.”
He could have sworn he heard a teeny, tiny “Help” from her as he hung his hat on a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree.
And when he reached for his belt buckle, he knew he heard one.
Her eyes were as big as dinner plates when he turned toward her.
“Skinny-dipping?”
“As you ordered,” he said, undoing the buckle and the metal button on his waistband. “Lesson number two.”
He almost felt sorry for her—almost—as he slid down his zipper then tugged his shirttails free. “Any walk on the wild side has to include a midnight dip.”
“N-n-nude?” she squeaked out as he shucked his shirt and tossed it to the ground.
“Naturally,” he said, sitting on the ground to tug off his boots and socks. When he stood again, he was wearing nothing but his jeans and a smile. “You’re falling behind, sweet cheeks,” he said and dropped the jeans.
Her little gasp was punctuated by a small, lingering “Oh” that escaped like a sigh.
He gave her a good eyeful, liking a little too much the way her nervous gaze flitted from his face to his chest to his face again, then to his groin—which was liking the way she looked at him a little too much, too. Mixed in with the fear and surprise in her expression was a very female appreciation.
“Time’s a-wastin’,” he said and showed her his back—just a little too late to hide what her hot looks had done to him. He walked to the bank, waded to midthigh before executing a shallow dive. Like it or not, he needed cooling off. The look in her eyes had heated him to the point of boiling.
When he surfaced, she was still standing on shore, looking exactly the way he thought she’d look—ready to bolt. Which was exactly what he wanted her to do. Nip this nonsense in the bud, that’s what he planned on. A little more goading ought to do the trick.
“How come you’ve still got your clothes on?”
“I…um…isn’t it cold?”
“Nah.” He wiped his wet hair out of his eyes. “Just right.”
She glanced toward Cletus and he thought, Go for it. You know you want to.
“Tell you what,” he said, standing chest-deep in the water. “I’ll count to three, then you make your choice. Either ditch the duds and join me, honey, or hightail it on back to the house and we’ll forget this ever happened. Cletus knows his way back to the barn.”
“One,” he said and watched her bite her lower lip between her teeth.
“Two.” Go ahead, darlin’. Get out of here.
“Three.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and he thought, Bye-bye. Until she reached for the hem of her top.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered when the shirt came off. And then all he could think was, Oh, hello.
Skinny-dipping. It always sounded so…playful. But what it was was intimate, Christine thought as she sat on the bank in her bra and jeans and tugged off her boots. It meant getting naked. In this case, it meant getting naked with a man.
Not just a man. A beautiful, well-conditioned, amazing specimen of a man who didn’t think twice about stripping to the skin and flaunting himself in front of her.
Well, she wasn’t a flaunter. Heck, sometimes she still undressed in the dark. And it may be well after midnight, but with the cloudless sky and the full moon and complement of stars shining down, it was far from dark out here. As a matter of fact, she felt as though she had a spotlight shining directly on her body.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. Just do it. It’s what you want. It’s what you need to do if you’re ever going to break the pattern.
Mouth pinched in determination, she finished pulling off her boots and socks, then stood and, with her back to the pond, unzipped and stepped out of her jeans. At the last minute, she reached into a pocket of her jeans and took out one of the packets of protection that Alison—dear, sweet, conscientious Alison—had pressed into her hand earlier today with a smile and a “Just in case.”
With a deep breath Christine turned to face Jake and slowly walked toward the water.
“Nope,” he said in that gruff, velvet drawl. “All of it or it doesn’t count.”
So much for hoping he’d overlook the underwear.
“Turn around,” she said.
“Not on your life.” His voice was sexy and low.
Another deep breath and she reached behind to unhook her bra. She couldn’t look at him, but she knew he was watching. It was so quiet, she could hear the soft ebb and flow of his arms as he glided them slowly back and forth through the water. So quiet, she could hear her heartbeat and the soft snuffle of the horses where they grazed on the grass nearby.
She let her bra drop to the ground by her jeans, but she held her forearm over her breasts. She couldn’t help it. One-handed, she tugged down her panties, stepped out of them, then tried to look casual as she covered the important parts below her waist with her other hand.
If he laughed, if he so much as snickered, she was going to drown herself.
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t snicker. He didn’t make a sound.
In fact, even the sound of his arms skimming the water had stopped.
She took another deep breath and looked up. Met his eyes. And almost lost her breath.
He was just standing there. Not even smiling. His eyes were hooded with shadows, but even so, she knew his gaze was locked on her. Only when he swallowed and she saw the muscles work in his throat did she realize that he was as riveted by the moment as she was. She felt a power surge sweep through her again.
Feel the power, girl. Use it.
Buoyed by the memory of Alison’s words, she stood straighter. And slowly lowered her hands.
This time it was his breath that caught. This time it was Jake doing the appreciating, as she’d appreciated the fluid muscle, the lean lines, the impressive part of his anatomy that distinguished him as a man.
She knew that he liked what he saw. When he took a step toward her as though it was involuntary, she knew that he loved what he saw. For the first time in her life she felt like celebrating the fact that she was a woman—a woman who intuitively sensed that this moment with this man was going to change her life.
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