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'I don't think it was meant to be a secret, exactly.'
'I recognise the hallmarks of my mother's twisted sense of humour.'
'Well, at least she has one.' Oops, that had just sort of slipped out. 'You'll get wet if you stand there,' she added shakily. The rolled-up cuffs of his white shirt were already damp, his tanned forearms gleamed with moisture and the steamy heat clung to his hair as tiny, silvery water droplets. 'If you thought I'd scream, why did you creep up on me?' I hope his watch is waterproof, she thought, fretting over this irrelevant detail.
My God, he was impressive enough to take the most objective observer's breath away, and she was a long way from objective! She knew there wasn't an ounce of surplus flesh on his taut, lightly tanned body. Long and lean, with just the right degree of muscle definition, he was the closest thing to male perfection she'd ever seen. If he weren't dressed, what would it feel like to run her hands over his slick skin? She could imagine the sharp contraction of those strong belly muscles and the deep quiver of his thighs. The water ran into her open mouth and she nearly choked.
He observed the minor convulsions with a disturbing smile. 'You want exclusive rights in the surprise department, do you? Isn't that just a bit unreasonable?' He found great difficulty in tearing his eyes from the way the water reached the uptilted peak of her small breasts and then cascaded down the sharply defined valley in between.
Hannah watched in confusion as he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head from side to side. She gasped as, with his eyes still shut, he stepped fully clothed into the cubicle and closed the door behind him. He threw back his head and let the water run over his face. As she watched, the white material of his shirt became transparent, and she could see the clear outline of his muscled torso and the curling shadow of his dark body hair.
'What are you doing?' she asked hoarsely.
'My spine's all tied in knots—a nice hot shower should do it some good.' Now he had his eyes open she had the distinct impression he wasn't missing any detail of her naked body. Unconsciously her chin went up as she met his sensual appraisal head-on.
Those knots couldn't be as complicated as the ones that tightened in her belly. A space that moments before had seemed luxurious was now overwhelmingly claustrophobic.
'Fully clothed?'
She couldn't do anything but stare as he unfolded her fingers one by one from the bar of soap she clutched. Her hands were hardly adequate to cover her growing sense of vulnerability, so she kept them rigidly to her sides. Wondering just what he was going to do next made the blood pound in Hannah's ears.
'Not an insurmountable obstacle. I was hoping my wife might give me a hand. Such a delicate, pretty hand too,' he murmured, turning her hand palm up and pressing it to his lips.
'I suppose you're pretty angry with me?' she said faintly. This was probably part of some elaborate punishment, she thought hazily.
'Why should I be angry?' he enquired, evincing confusion. 'Oh, you mean because everyone knows my wife thinks I have a mistress. And the fact I've had to offer the woman you so publicly slandered a grovelling apology. You've managed to destroy my respectable image with remarkable efficiency.'
She watched as, very slowly, he worked the soap into a lather. Ethan looked at his soapy hand, then into Hannah's wide eyes, and deliberately closed his hand over one taut breast. A deep sigh rippled through his body. 'Like lovely firm tender apples, ripe for the plucking,' he breathed, leaning forward to plant his other hand on the tiled wall behind her head. His thumb moved back and forth over the erect nipple.
'Ethan!' she gasped. Was he trying to say he wasn't having an affair? she wondered, too intensely involved with the movements of his clever, cruel hand to concentrate properly on anything else.
'That's my name,' he agreed grimly, 'and don't you forget it. Not Jean-bloody-Paul, and not Drew what's-his-name. Ethan Kemp, your husband, the man who shares your bed, given the opportunity. Why I let you turn this house into a damn hotel, I don't know.'
'This isn't a bed.'
'Don't be pedantic, Hannah.' He took her chin in his hand and stroked her jawline with his thumb.
Tm sorry. I...I assumed... I mean, you're a normal man with the usual appetites, and she's attractive, clever...'
'You assumed one hell of a lot. And it didn't bother you when your fertile imagination decided I'd been sharing more than professional courtesies with the nubile Miranda.' He sounded strangely annoyed by his interpretation of her reaction.
'It was none of my business.'
"That's not the way it sounded last night. It sounded like it bothered you a lot.'
'Things'are different now...' she said, feeling trapped by his relentless pursuit Of her motivation. She could hardly say, I'm jealous as hell because I'm in love with you, could she?
