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It was a fact that did little to add to her confidence. Not when Jake edged past her with an enigmatic little smile that made all the strength ooze out of her limbs like sherbet through a straw.
‘Up the stairs,’ she instructed weakly as he turned and waited while she closed the front door.
Glancing briefly up the narrow staircase that led to her flat, he said, ‘You go first.’
Caitlin had been afraid he might say that. With her face burning she squeezed past him, inadvertently inhaling the heady scents of cedarwood and leather and the fresh smell of the outdoors that clung to him as her body brushed briefly against his. It was like coming into contact with a power supply, she thought as she began to ascend the stairs. There wasn’t a cell in her body that hadn’t felt the effect.
Every step she took in her slim bare feet with their scarlet-painted toenails was pure agony because she was acutely aware of Jake, just inches behind her. The belt round her waist had been fastened so tightly he couldn’t fail to be apprised of her shape beneath the perfectly innocent terry robe, and Caitlin squirmed inwardly all the way up into her living room.
‘Come in,’ she invited.
His heart thudding, because his senses were still infused with the memory of their kiss the other night, Jake trained his gaze on his surroundings in a bid to divert his aroused recollection.
He immediately registered what had once been an ornate Victorian fireplace that was now home to a small electric heater that surely wasn’t big enough to heat the whole room. There was a large pink ceramic vase with palm fronds in it just to the side of the hearth, and a large squashy red sofa with multi-coloured cushions arranged against the wall. Above it was a large gold-framed print of Flaming June by Frederic Leighton. The vivid orange of the lady’s dress was clinging like a sunburst to her pale reposing figure.
Jake absorbed all of this in just a few short seconds, but inevitably his gaze was helplessly drawn back to Caitlin. In her charming state of dishabille, how could it not be? What was that scent she was wearing?
With her face scrubbed clean of make-up, her silky black hair escaping all attempts at confinement, and wearing nothing but a plain terry robe, to Jake she was temptation personified. If she had the power to make him hot when she was dressed in tight jeans and a T-shirt it was nothing compared to the effect she was having on him in her present get-up. He just prayed that her pretty green eyes wouldn’t stray far south of his stomach, because right then he was fighting a losing battle to keep his lustful stirrings to himself.
So much for his promise to maintain a professional distance. He’d already broken that vow by stealing that incendiary kiss the other night. One taste of pure, unadulterated heaven had ensured that sooner or later he would be back for more. He’d already had to make himself scarce once this afternoon, because two hours of Caitlin up on the stage wiggling her hips as she sang, her breasts bouncing ever so slightly in her hot pink T-shirt, had almost made him crazy with want. Professing a need for some fresh air had just been a handy euphemism for what he really needed…a cold shower so icy it would freeze an ordinary mortal into a cryogenic trance.
When Jake didn’t immediately speak, Caitlin nervously wiped her hands down her robe and motioned vaguely towards the sofa. ‘Why don’t you sit down? I just need to go and dress. I was having a bath when you rang the bell.’
‘Don’t get dressed on my account,’ her visitor drawled, making no discernible move to sit down.
Her face flamed red.
‘I’m still wet,’ she gulped, immediately wishing she could take back her innocently meant remark, because Jake’s glance was all but stripping her naked. Want, need and lust swirled between them. ‘I mean I need…’
Caitlin’s hand trembled as she saw Jake’s eyes grow tellingly dark. Now his glance was focused on her mouth, on the soft, plump lower lip that her tongue had just innocently dampened.
‘What are we going to do, Caitlin?’ he asked softly, his gravelly voice reeling her in with its disturbing undisguised intonation of heat and sex.
‘Do about what?’
‘About us. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. For God’s sake, the kiss we shared the other night when I walked you home was no innocent kiss goodnight. I got the distinct impression that you enjoyed it as much as I did. Was I wrong?’
