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His eyes raked over her. "You stood at that door this morning, watching me in your see-through nightgown, looking like a hungry virgin. What the hell am I supposed to think?"
Grace put her hands on her hips. "I never looked at you like that."
He leaned toward her. "You want to try that again and shoot for the truth this time?"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"So when you hired me last night, you weren't thinking of tacking on a little horizontal action with the security you're buying?"
Grace's mouth dropped open. She might be obstructing the truth a little but he was a goddamn revisionist.
She jabbed her finger at him in a decidedly unladylike fashion.
"You were the one with a death grip on my arm just now." The gesture made her feel stronger so she did it again and again, pushing her words through the air at him. "And I didn't ask you to touch me. Before you start playing holier than thou, you better look in the mirror. If anyone's starving around here, it's you.”
She kicked up her chin and turned away from him. She'd gone about three feet when he caught her and spun her around.
His lips came down hard on hers and she met them with equal force. She grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling herself against him, while his arms came around her. The sensation of their bodies meeting was a rush.
Groaning, he broke off from her mouth, burying his face in her hair as if he were battling himself for control. But she didn't want him to turn away. When he started blazing a trail of kisses down her neck, she let out a sound of relief and desire and her head fell back as he took her skin in between his teeth and tasted her. His mouth explored further, down over her collarbone where his finger had once been, down into the valley between her breasts.
Roughly, he pushed the robe off her shoulders so it hung in waves from the sash around her waist. His eyes seemed to feast on the sight of her taut nipples pulling at the silk that draped over them. As he brought his hands slowly around until they rested under the weight of her breasts, her breath caught. Moving only his thumbs, he began to caress her, lingering over the hard peaks until she closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.
"God, there is such heat in you," he said with wonder.
Her eyes opened and through the haze she saw a strange expression on his face, one that was a mix of passion and astonishment. She had the fleeting thought that if he knew she was watching, he would have hidden it.
He hooked his finger under one of the thin straps that held the nightgown's bodice in place and slipped it gently off her shoulder. The lace and silk melted away from her breast, leaving it bare to his eyes. Slowly, he dipped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Shuddering with need, she drove her nails into his biceps. She watched as his tongue came out and licked at her tender tip. Biting her lip, she moaned again.
Through the haze, she recognized a foreign sound. Something vaguely troubling.
Keys.
Smith pulled away from her quickly, his eyes snapping toward the door.
"The contractors," she said roughly.
Grace struggled to get the top of the gown and the robe back in place but nothing was working right. Her mind was fuzzy, her hands were fumbling and the fabric seemed dead set against behaving.
"I'll deal with them." Smith's voice was ragged and he shielded her with his body as the door was thrown open.
Grace escaped into the kitchen just as three men came barreling through her front door. As she heard male voices talking, she leaned back against the refrigerator, struggling to get herself covered.
She put her head in her hands. How had that just happened?
Well, she knew the answer to that. Take one healthy male and a woman who'd been fantasizing about him since the night they met and put them in an enclosed space. It was lust, pure and simple.
It was just a kiss, she told herself. People do it all the time.
Well, yeah. But not like that.
Christ, what was wrong with her? She was two weeks away from being thirty, for heaven's sake, and about to be a divorcee. She wasn't some twenty-year-old, capable of believing that a couple of kisses were a transforming event. That a few sparks and some heat could turn a lonely, stressed-out woman into a femme fatale and a hard man into a romantic hero.
She knew she should do herself a favor and stay away from him but how was that going to happen? He was supposed to be with her every waking minute of every day.
The door opened.
She looked up into Smith's face. He was back to being self-controlled, arrogant, sure of himself.
But she knew she hadn't imagined his passion. The first time he'd kissed her might have been explained away by frustration and anger. What had just happened couldn't.
"I've taken their keys and told them you'll give a call when they can come back."
