Her Perfect Stranger. Jill Shalvis
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quivered at that touch as it did now.
She searched his gaze long and hard, as if assessing him for something very important. Maybe…honesty?
He was being honest. Here, amid the crowd, sitting with the most arresting woman in the place, he didn’t want to think about work, either. He didn’t want to think about anything other than what he was doing, which was enjoying the company of a beautiful stranger.
She seemed to come to a conclusion about him. She nodded thoughtfully, then uncrossed her legs. Her stockings made the most arresting silk-on-silk sound, and for the longest moment he couldn’t get his mind wrapped around anything but the thought of what her legs would feel like without the stockings. “Another drink?” he asked.
“That’s how a good number of the people in here are going to get in trouble tonight.” She glanced around. “Look at those women. Lonely. Drinking. Easy prey for all those men watching them.”
“Maybe they want to be prey.”
A sigh escaped her, a sound of…longing? “Yes,” she said, so softly he had to lean closer. “Maybe so. Maybe they don’t know how to just go after what they need, even if it’s not practical.”
“Are we talking about sex?” He grinned as she raised an eyebrow. “Because really, sex can be quite practical. It’s a great stress reliever, for one. And spectacular exercise. Not to mention it’s just a feel-good sort of thing.”
Her lips quirked. “You’re speaking from experience, of course.”
“Oh, no. A man should never kiss and tell.”
That made her laugh, and she looked surprised at the rusty sound, as if she didn’t do it often. “I need to get a room,” she decided, slapping her palm on the bar as she reached for the bag she’d dropped at her feet. “There was a crowd at the front desk before.”
He glanced at the very large—and getting larger by the moment—throng of people. “You don’t have a room yet?”
“No, I wanted to get warm before standing in line.”
Which was the last thing she said before the lights went out.
“DON’T PANIC,” came the low, unbearably sexy voice of her perfect stranger. “I’ve got you.”
And he did. He’d slid off his bar stool to stand right beside her, his hand reaching for hers. Corrine could feel the heat of him, the strength in the tall, leanly muscled body that she’d been trying not to notice since he’d first spoken to her.
He wasn’t her type.
Which was damn laughable, because it had been so long, she didn’t actually remember what her type was. At work, a man with a cocky, knowing smile and such a laid-back manner would drive her crazy.
But here it was the opposite.
At work she was serious, intense, and…okay, a perfectionist. She freely admitted that. She wasn’t a sexual creature, not at all. In fact, working as a woman in a man’s world, she tended to ignore her sexuality and the needs that went along with it, for long periods of time.
Hell of a time for her libido to lift its head.
“The power will come back on in a moment,” he reassured her as everyone around them seemed to panic. “Nothing to be worried about.”
Corrine wasn’t worried, and it wasn’t just his bone-melting voice making it so, but the fact that she didn’t worry about things out of her control. It was a supreme waste of time, and she hated wasting anything, especially time.
Someone trying to get out of the bar jostled her. She wouldn’t even be in this madhouse if she hadn’t had to fly here from Houston for an emergency meeting of the utmost importance—meeting the new pilot. After this she could only hope there weren’t any delays in her next project—commanding upcoming space shuttle mission STS-124. As it was her team would have to work hard to bring the replacement pilot on board.
Given the angry, disturbed, upset voices around her, general panic seemed imminent, so Corrine both forgave and ignored the person who’d pushed her. But she didn’t intend to be pushed again.
“I’m going to make my way to the front desk,” she said, turning her head toward where she imagined her stranger’s ear would be. Making herself heard in the uproar was difficult. “I’m going to get a room and just sleep the power outage away—” Oh God. Her mouth brushed skin. His ear, she thought, but it was hard to think at all because her body tingled with the most mind-numbing awareness.
Lust.
She recognized it, cataloguing the fact in her technical mind. But it didn’t stop the phenomenon. “I’ll come with you.” That was all he said, but in the dark, his voice seemed even lower, even more husky and sexy, if possible. Before she could figure out how to lose him, he’d taken her bag and was tugging her toward the door.
There wasn’t much light. None from the windows, which looked out into the pitch-black, stormy night. But since the generator hadn’t kicked on, the bartender had lit candles along the length of the bar, and was doing her best to calm people down.
With her hand in the stranger’s large, warm one, Corrine followed. An odd thing, following, something she as a leader didn’t often do. But this man seemed to be a leader, as well, and she let him muscle his way through the mass of people. She had to admit, in a very sexist sort of way, that walking behind had its advantages. First of all, he smelled delicious, all woodsy and male. And second, even in the dark she could make out his broad shoulders and strong back. If only the light was slightly better, she could check out his—
“Uh-oh,” he said, turning around so abruptly she plowed into him. He slipped one of his hands to her waist, holding her upright with ease as she caught her balance. “Looks like quite a few people beat us to the punch.”
He was right.
Here in the lobby of the hotel, candles and battery lanterns cast an almost surreal light. The receptionist had a long line of people in front of her, and she looked harried, harassed and near hysteria.
In less than three minutes, the line started to dissipate. Far too quickly. Around them the grumbling increased, mimicking the force of the storm outside, as the wind and rain slashed against the walls, making it nearly impossible to hear.
Nearly.
“They’re out of rooms,” groaned the woman in front of them. “Now what?”
Corrine listened to the storm ravaging the hotel, and shivered. The thought of going back out there and finding another place to stay really irritated her, because damn it, she’d just started to dry off. That she’d told her assistant not to bother with reservations for the one night until her barracks room was ready was coming back to haunt her now. She marched up to the desk. “I want a room,” she said coolly to the now teary receptionist.
The woman merely hiccuped.
Corrine briefly entertained the idea of ordering the woman to get a grip, that she should be helping people find other rooms in other hotels, or at the very least, looking sure and confident so people would stop yelling at her, but there was no point. “Check one more time,” she said instead, in that voice of authority that always had people cracking. “I’ll take anything.”
Next to her, her stranger stirred, setting a hand very lightly on the base of her spine. At the touch, Corrine’s every nerve leaped to attention and turned her knees wobbly.
“I don’t think she has anything,” he said quietly in her ear, causing all sorts of tremors inside her belly and other, far more erogenous, zones. “Or if she does, she’s too worked up to find it.”
Corrine sighed and nearly melted into the hand that was lightly, so lightly, rubbing the aching spot at the base of her spine. She caught herself just short of purring, and straightened, locking her traitorous knees while she was at it. “I know.” She looked toward the double