Flinging back the covers, she lunged from the bed, yanked on her rumpled blouse and skirt, then stalked over to the bathroom.
Inside the steamy glass stall, Quentin stood with his eyes closed and his face lifted to the shower spray as water rushed down his naked, glistening muscles. Ignoring the way her belly clenched, she snatched open the door.
When Quentin glanced around in surprise, she said with stinging sweetness, “Iwouldn’t care to join you, but I’m sure Jocelyn would jump at the chance. Why don’t you askher?”
Quentin frowned, blinking water from his long lashes. “Who?”
“Jocelyn,” Lexi spat, shoving the cell phone up to his face.
He took one look at the provocative photo, then closed his eyes and groaned. “Lex, it’s not what you—”
“Save it.” She spun around and marched back into the bedroom, tossing the phone onto the bed. As she retrieved her discarded bra and panties from the floor, she heard the water shut off. She hurriedly tugged on her underwear and pulled down her skirt just as Quentin strode from the bathroom, a towel haphazardly draped around his hips and water streaming down his chest.
“Listen to me,” he said urgently. “I’m not sleeping with that woman—”
“Yet.” Lexi smirked, her bra balled up in her fist. “But it’s only a matter of time, right? I mean, I know how fast you work. Well, except in my case. It took you a bit longer to getmeinto bed, but hey, good things come to those who wait, right?”
His heavy brows slammed together as he advanced on her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Admit it, Quentin,” she taunted, backing away from him. “You’ve always loved a good challenge. And what could be more challenging than getting your best friend of twenty years into bed?”
He stopped short, staring at her incredulously. “You honestly think that’s what last night was about?”
Instead of answering that, she demanded, “Who’s Jocelyn?”
He scowled. “She’s nobody.”
Lexi snorted derisively. “She must besomebodyif she’s up at the crack of dawn sending you half-naked pictures of herself.”
Quentin started toward her again, the towel sliding precariously lower on his lean hips. “Listen to me—”
“When?”
“When what?”
“Whendid you meet her, Quentin? Before or after you kissed me in Burgundy?”
He hesitated, jaw clenched. “I met her last Wednesday. She’s—”
“So that would beafterwe got back from Burgundy, correct?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like that. She’s one of our new clients—”
“Aclient?That’s even worse!”
As Lexi pivoted and strode from the bedroom, Quentin followed her. “Damn it, Lex. If you’d just let me explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” she cut him off. “If you see nothing wrong with sleeping with your clients, that’s your business.”
“I’m not sleeping with her!” he roared.
“Well, she seems pretty confident that you will be soon enough. And if she’s just a client, why the hell is she calling your personal cell phone? Explain that!”
Quentin was hot on her heels as she hurried down the staircase and headed toward the foyer. Her trench coat, shoes and pantyhose lay in a bundle near the front door, taunting her with memories of last night.
As she jammed her feet into her stilettos, she muttered caustically, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. I mean, the morning after you kissed me, I saw that supermodel slinking out of your damn room.”
Quentin frowned. “You saw her?”
