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His mouth was fast and unforgiving in her mind as he skimmed a hot line over her shoulder, setting the edge of his teeth to it with just enough pressure to balance the sensation with more excruciating heat. He lifted his eyes, locking them on hers, and for one suspended moment, Sloane lost herself in the depths of imaginary desire.
Until she connected the liquid brown gaze of her fantasy man with its real-world owner, and her breath slammed through her lungs in a hard gasp.
6
Ten minutes after jerking the shower dial all the way into cold territory, Sloane was dry, dressed, and no less hot and bothered by the naughty images she’d conjured of the guy who was about to sign the only paycheck she’d seen in months.
Emphasis onbothered.
“Seriously…I’m losing my mind,” she muttered into a travel mug the size of a fishbowl and elbowed her way out the door, only to be blasted in the face by sunlight so bright, it bordered on cruel.
“Gah!” Not even a full-bodied jerk-and-wince could save her completely, and Sloane had no choice but to shutter her eyes closed in an act of self-defense.
Gavin’s smoldering glance popped back into her brain, as clear as a digital billboard on Broadway.
Sloane’s lids flew back open to reveal the last remnants of a jewel-toned sunrise filtering through bare trees. Golden light played brightly on the frost-encrusted grass, sending sparkles bouncing in every direction like fresh-cut diamonds scattered on velvet. Surely, the view up here in God’s country should be breathtaking enough to eradicate any other mental image, no matter how attractive. Sloane settled her eyes closed once more, determined to replace passionate looks with pastoral landscapes.
GoodLord,the man’s eyes were so sexy, it was just unfair!
“Okay, that’s enough.” Sloane huffed her way down the frozen concrete pavers leading to the driveway, sliding a pair of huge Tom Ford sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. The now-bearable sunlight folded around the trees that formed a perimeter around her rented bungalow, creating that pastoral scene in her head like an epic showing oftoo little, too late.
Oh, sure. The sun could do its best to turn her corneas to early morning toast, but ask it to do a little thing like help blot out a couple of ultra sexy images, and it just twinkled benevolently from behind a damned tree. Like racy thoughts of the person signing your paycheck were not only normal, but encouraged.
Sloane put the Fiat in Drive and commanded herself to get a grip. The last thing she needed was to blow the tiny shred of focus she’d managed to work up, thinking of a guy who wasn’t even her type. The smoldering kiss he’d leveled at her last night—the one that was clearly wreaking havoc with her over-eager neurons—had been a mistake, and she absolutely had to expunge it from her memory. Getting down to business was priority number one, and creating an on-the-page hero who looked nothing like Gavin Carmichael topped that list.
She jammed her eyes shut so tightly they tingled, forcing away the image of those deep brown eyes, fringed with lashes as warm and decadent as a tray full of cinnamon rolls. Instead, she pictured Gavin scowling and holding a plaque that read YOUR NEW BOSS, AKA THE ICE KING beneath his handsomely chiseled jaw.
Well,thatdid the trick.
When she pulled into the familiar gravel driveway a few minutes later, Sloane had adjusted her mental snapshot of Gavin to that of a regular guy with ordinary eyes and dime-a-dozen features. After all, she’d seen him a bunch of times at La Dolce Vita, and not one of those meetings had ever prompted illicit shower fantasies. She mounted the front porch steps with a decisive nod. Her imagination had just gotten the best of her, that’s all. No harm, no foul.
“Good morning.” Gavin stood in the open doorway, wearing a perfectly pressed blue dress shirt that emphasized his deep brown eyes like an unfair advantage, and Sloane nearly choked on her tongue.
“Bree’s still sleeping, so I figured I’d catch you before you rang the bell.” He held the door open, ushering her inside with a polite nod. Even though he looked like he’d sprouted from the pages ofGQ,his tone was all business, and it gave Sloane’s composure a kick-start in the right direction.
Okay, fine. So his eyes were definitely the color of satiny milk chocolate, shot through with just a hint of gold flecks around the edges. It didn’t mean she was going to get all swoony over him. Her energy and imagination were strictly for book writing. And, hello. Boss, boss, boss!
“What kind of thirteen-year-old doesn’t sleep like the dead?” She shook herself the rest of the way back to Earth as she hustled past him into the cottage, mentally adding one lastboss!for good measure.
Gavin paused, shutting the door behind her and stepping into the entryway. The light, clean notes of his cologne filled her nose enough to entice but not overpower.
It was way too early for this.
“Sometimes she has trouble sleeping, plus she did all that work last night, so I thought I’d let her sleep in a little. Anyway, I put on a pot of coffee.” He tipped his chin toward the kitchen, light brown hair glinting in the sunlight coming through the window. “Help yourself to a refill.”
His crisp tone nudged the rational side of her brain, making it easier to shake her impure thoughts about his melty eyes. “Thanks.” She toasted him with her travel mug, determined to duck past him without fanfare, but he stopped short, blocking her path.
“I…ah, I just want to make sure everything is okay.” Gavin cleared his throat and examined his loafers, clearly uncomfortable as hell.
Well, that made two of them. Not that Sloane was about to show it. After all, a girl had her pride.
“Other than the fact that no human being should be up this early on a Saturday, life is grand.” She flashed a bigger-than-necessary smile in his direction, but he didn’t budge.
“I meant between us.”
Sloane resisted the urge to look at the door. “We got a little carried away and kissed, Gavin,” she said, forcing her voice to a breezy calm. “I can forget about it if you can.”
He paused, and she sent up a fervent prayer.
