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Now that the moment had arrived, however, a part of her wished she’d planned their tour for tomorrow, so they could spend this Saturday afternoon making up for six days of separation. Well, several parts of her, actually. She’d missed him. Her phone dinged with an incoming text. She lifted it from the inside pocket of her purse, and checked the screen.
I’m ready for my tour.
Her eyes automatically lifted to scan the three orderly rows of shutter-flanked windows decorating the front of inn above the lobby level. Nothing…nothing…then her eyes stalled and her heart cartwheeled. Top floor, end window. Shane stood there, staring at her, his wide, bare chest filling the window, his torso tapering down to where a white towel hung from his hips, only a hairsbreadth above indecent. Her throat went dry, and one of those parts of her that had missed him badly went very, very wet. But she’d made arrangements, and backing out at the last minute repaid someone’s kindness with rudeness. Manners forbade canceling the plans, even for the sake of her…parts.
She tore her eyes away from the mouthwatering view and started typing.
You pervert. Stop flashing people from your hotel window, and get your ass down here.
When she looked up again, he was reading his screen. She was too far away to see his expression, but a quick second later her phone dinged again.
I’m not wearing a stitch, and you’re ordering me to the street. Who’s the pervert? And what does she have in store for my ass?
Okay, she was definitely the pervert for all the highly depraved ideas polluting her mind. Ideas she’d spell out for him in intimate detail. Later.
Put some clothes on that ass first. Then get down here, and you’ll find out.
He braced an arm on the window frame and leaned forward—no doubt to glare down at her. The pose turned his torso into a lean, rippled monument of masculine beauty and slid the towel so low it disappeared from view. Finally, he lifted his phone and texted her, one-handed. Just thinking about his nimble thumb left her a little sweaty despite the mild, partly sunny day.
Bossy. Sure I can’t tempt you upstairs? I’m told it’s a damn fine ass.
She grinned in spite of herself but shook her head.
Put something pretty on it. Quickly. My tour starts in ten minutes, and I don’t want to be late.
After she hit send, she looked up. He was reading the text. Once he finished, he straightened and gave her a salute. Then he tossed something aside and turned away from the glass, deliberately offering her a view of his rangy shoulders, the long, muscular line of his back, and his stark naked, and damn fine, ass. She slumped against the side of the Tahoe as it disappeared from sight.
A few minutes later one side of the elaborately frosted glass door of the inn swung open. Her heart did more acrobatics as Shane stepped out. Instead of making her forget the staggering abundance of hard muscle hidden beneath, the long-sleeved black polo he wore emphasized the expanse of his shoulders, the loose-limbed strength of his arms, and the formidable wall of his chest. A triangle of white T-shirt peeking out from his collar teased her with the knowledge two layers of fabric now separated her from his warm, vital flesh. He’d haphazardly tucked the very front of his shirt into the waist of his jeans—wash-whitened at the stress points along the button fly and a shade darker just below, where the denim cupped a truly impressive bulge.
Long, powerful thighs flexed as the bulge drew closer. A deep voice drawled in her ear. “You keep looking at your favorite toy like that, baby girl, and it’s going to want to come out and play.”
She ran her tongue along her suddenly dry lips, and he groaned. “Too late.” A big hand closed around the lapel of her jacket and dragged her to him. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured and then waited a beat for her to say it as well, but her breath deserted her. Before she ruined a perfect moment due to emotional clumsiness, she closed the space between them and kissed him. If he noticed her fumble, he didn’t hold it against her, just kissed her back, and kept right on kissing her until she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him so she could have more. More of his lips, his tongue…more of him. When he trailed his mouth over her chin, a moan erupted from deep in her throat. When he nibbled his way along her jaw, the moan turned to a sigh of surrender.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered around her earlobe.
“My, my. This sure is interesting.”
Shane’s muffled curse vibrated in her ear, but he lifted his head slowly, unhurried. She opened her eyes and turned to face Ricky Pinkerton. A couple of men she recognized as some of his cohorts…okay…co-investors, walked with him.
“Pinkerton,” Shane said with the briefest of nods. “Gentlemen.”
“Maguire,” Ricky returned. “Sinclair, always a pleasure. I didn’t realize you two were so…friendly.”
“Surprise,” she shot back.
“It is,” he replied. “It explains a lot, too.”
She heard something snide in Ricky’s tone, but Shane answered with a disinterested, “You think?”
“Uh-huh. Now I understand why we’re making a mountain out of a molehill over a little creek water.”
Shane’s eyebrows went up. “Because I’m doing my job?”
“Right. You’re Mr. Ethics. No personal interests in play for you.”
She opened her mouth to tell Ricky he wouldn’t know ethics if they smacked him in the face, but Shane beat her to the reply. “None that conflict with my professional duties, which is more than I can say for some.”
Red rushed into Ricky’s face. He stepped into Shane’s space and puffed his chest. “I live here. I work here. My family is here. So, you bet your ass it’s personal for me. I don’t need you showing up after all these years and interfering just to convince people you’re some kind of big shot. Everybody knows the creek isn’t a problem.”
