Some Like It Sizzling. Jamie Sobrato
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never wore—and slid on the black platform sandals that turned out to be a lot more comfortable than they looked, then took another look at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
Okay, she wasn’t exactly blessed by Mother Nature in the chest department, but still…She inspected herself further. Not bad for an outfit that made her look like a groupie hoping to sneak backstage at a rock concert. Her hair, however, was all wrong.
She reached up and removed the pins that held her French twist in place, then ran her fingers through her light brown hair until it fell around her face in waves that hung to her shoulders. She’d never liked her hair much, especially not the mousy color that made her about as noticeable as white wallpaper, or the flyaway curls that, on bad days, gave her the appearance of having wispy little horns, but with the groupie getup, she had to admit that the tousled look went quite nicely.
She wasn’t wearing a spot of makeup, but there was no time to fix herself up any more than she already had, especially when her makeup collection consisted mostly of ointments and facial cleansers—not tubes of lipstick with names like Scarlet Passion.
She had a cowboy to awaken. But as she took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, her throat seized up and she felt her knees begin to buckle. What could she possibly have been thinking? She couldn’t wake up this strange man and let him see her like this.
She heard Claire’s voice again. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with no one but your cats to keep you warm at night. Lucy loved her cats, but they didn’t make great bed partners. Aside from their more obvious shortcomings, Romeo hogged the bed and Juliet liked to deposit dead, mangled insects on Lucy’s pillow—her feline version of fancy hotel chocolates.
With that depressing thought, she decided the least she could do for herself was be proud of the way she looked in her new outfit, even if it was only for the couple of minutes it took to get Buck out of the apartment.
Her confidence somewhat renewed, she couldn’t help pausing for a moment to marvel again at the male form in all its glory. Why did such gorgeous men have to exist, to remind plain women such as herself of all they couldn’t have? She decided it would be wise not to spend much more time contemplating the unfairness of it all, but she still couldn’t stop staring. What she really wanted was a closer look.
It only took one more gander at that perfect expanse of chest to convince her that a closer look wouldn’t hurt anyone. Besides, she’d never actually seen a half-naked hunk at close range before.
As she knelt beside the bed, a little alarm sounded in the back of her brain that she quickly shut off. This was her one chance to gawk at Buck up close, and she wasn’t going to waste it. She eased her elbows onto the edge of the bed and leaned in, inhaling the scent of him—an advantage of getting close that she hadn’t even considered. He smelled of something warm and woodsy and unmistakably male, and the scent was intoxicating. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeper, nearly melting as the smell overtook her.
Eyes open again, she admired the smoothness of his tanned, olive skin and the little brown nipples that were nearly flat against his chest. The only body hair he had was under his arms, and a thin, dark trail that started below his belly button and disappeared into the waist of his jeans, calling Lucy’s eyes lower to the impressive bulge that filled his worn-out Levi’s. She felt her jaw sag as she contemplated the size of the bulge. Were there really men out there who were that well endowed? If so, she’d been missing the boat. Heck, she hadn’t even known the boat existed.
“Hey there, darlin’. Like what you see?”
The shock of Buck’s voice sent Lucy sprawling backward, landing on her rear end with a thud as she stared up at the man she’d thought to be asleep.
“H-how l-long have you been awake?” She felt her face burn as he watched her with amused eyes.
“Since you leaned against the bed.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Lucy found herself mesmerized by his mouth as it formed words, words she didn’t want to hear at the moment because he had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen and all she wanted to do was to find out how it would feel to kiss it. Oh, it wasn’t just his mouth, but his whole face! The hat had slid back to reveal features just as stunning as those below his neck. Straight nose, strong jawline, hint of a five o’clock shadow, dark brown lashes to match his tousled dark hair.
“What question?”
“Do you like what you see?” He had a lazy smile and a deeper voice than she’d imagined.
Lucy pushed herself up from the carpet and stood, futilely trying to brush cat hair from her black pants. Anything to hide her flaming-red face from Buck. “I was just a little shocked to find a strange man handcuffed to my bed, that’s all.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, darlin’.”
Lucy swallowed the acid taste of fear in her mouth and wished she could slink under the bed. She forced herself to look him in the eyes, and found that they were a most intriguing shade of pale gray. “You look quite acceptable.”
“Acceptable?”
“Nice, I mean.”
“Look, hon, I can call the ranch and have them send another guy if I don’t meet your standards—”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I mean, I’m afraid my friend—the woman who arranged for you to be here—she made a bit of an error in judgment.” Her face must have turned the same color as her shirt by now. She cleared her throat in the futile hope that he’d stop staring at her so blatantly.
“What sort of an error in judgment?”
“She assumed I would agree to go on this trip, but…”
He adjusted his shoulder and winced, and she realized he must have been in pain because of the handcuffs.
“Oh, dear, let me get you out of those. Do you have the key?”
“It’s in my right-hand pocket,” he said. “Just reach in there and feel around for it.”
Lucy’s mouth went dry as she caught his meaning. “You mean, in your pants?”
He nodded, a smile playing on his lips.
“I don’t think my hand will fit in there.” She eyeballed the skintight denim and wondered how she’d gotten herself into such a predicament. Claire. She was going to strangle that woman.
“You could unzip them if you think that would help.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She took a deep breath and tried not to think of the things that could possibly go wrong while fishing around in a stranger’s pocket.
What the heck? This is your one chance to stick your hand into a gorgeous man’s pants.
She lurched forward, the toe of her platform sandal catching in the plush carpet, but found her balance just in time. He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable as she slid her hand inside his right pocket for the key. It was a tight squeeze, and she had to lean over his torso a little to get her hand at the right angle. Her position forced her to inhale that dreamy scent of his again, and for at least the second time that night she felt certain parts of her anatomy turn tingly and liquid with sensation.
But there was no key.
“Are you sure you put it in your right pocket?” She withdrew her hand and breathed a sigh of relief that she had managed not to bump certain parts of his anatomy.
“Hmm, maybe it was the left pocket.”
Lucy glared at him as she realized that he had possibly sent her fishing in the wrong pocket on purpose, that he was actually enjoying this little game. Okay, so maybe she was enjoying it, too. Just a little.
Bracing her knees on the bed, she leaned further across his torso and