loosened, she crossed her arms over her chest, holding it in place. She wore what looked like a white, satin corset, and he unhooked that, too, knowing she’d never be able to do it on her own.
Finally, he completed the intimate task just as the lacy band of her panties came into view. He stepped back, wanting to bolt from the room, from his tempting reaction to this woman, but realized that she seemed unsure of what to do next, or how to step out of the bulk of her wedding dress without getting tangled up in the yards of heavy material.
She looked to him for help—and the next step was getting her into something she could sleep in for the night.
He stifled a groan. Not wanting to take the time to sort through the garments in her suitcase and possibly end up with something flimsy and more befitting a honeymoon night, he grabbed one of his chambray shirts from his closets and thrust it toward her. Gratitude filled her eyes, and as soon as her fingers curled around the soft material, he turned around, giving her privacy to change.
A minute later she said softly, “I’m done.”
He turned to face her again, relieved to find all the important, voluptuous parts of her decently covered—though he couldn’t help but appreciate how well she filled out his large shirt. Her unbound breasts were full and high, grazing the soft, faded cotton. The hem flirted around her slender thighs, drawing his gaze to those long, graceful legs of hers covered in ivory stockings, prompting fantasies he had no business imagining.
Awareness rumbled through him, settling in his belly like hot coals. Needing the distraction, he helped her from the crumpled dress, then pulled down the covers and gave the firm mattress a pat.
“In you go,” he said lightly, the words echoing his nightly routine with his daughter.
The very grown-up woman with centerfold curves sat on his bed, but before he could yank the covers up to her chin, she glanced down at her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. “My stockings and garter,” she murmured, a perplexed frown creasing her brow. “I can’t sleep with them on. I want them off.”
Garrett’s jaw clenched with restraint. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice her stockings, and he was willing to bet that as soon as her head hit the pillow she’d be out like a light and nothing would disturb her, not even that extra lingerie. But there was a sudden stubborn glint in her eye that told him his torment wasn’t over. He stepped back to let her do the deed, and crossed his arms over his chest so he wouldn’t be tempted to help. Without modesty, she hiked up the hem of his shirt and reached down, swaying off balance. She managed to catch herself, just barely, before she toppled over.
Her tenacity would have amused him if she didn’t arouse him so much.
For a sober woman, the task should have been a simple one, and possibly even a provocative striptease. For a woman who was all thumbs and couldn’t get those thumbs tucked beneath the band of her stockings, the deed was a monumental one. Her frustration mounted as her fingers slipped, and a choked sound escaped her. When she glanced up at him, hopeless tears brimmed in her eyes, turning them to a velvet shade of blue.
She bit her trembling bottom lip in a valiant attempt to hold her emotions at bay. “I can’t do anything right today.”
If she hadn’t looked so beaten, he might have been able to resist the silent plea in her gaze. This was no calculated attempt to seduce him as he’d come to expect from most women, but a raw, honest need for his assistance.
Breaking his vow not to touch her, he brushed her hands away and hooked his fingers into the lacy band of her stocking with as much indifference as he could muster. His mind managed to remain detached from the situation, but when the calloused pads of his fingers accidently stroked her silky, delicate skin on the way down her leg, his body burned with a long denied hunger.
Irritated with his response to this woman, he finished the intimate task quickly. “Lie down and get some sleep,” he ordered in a gruff tone, anxious to get out of his bedroom.
She eased back on the pillows, her hair floating around her head like a halo of gold. Her expression softened as she blinked up at him slumberously. Glancing away, he lifted the covers beneath her arms and tucked her in. Just when he would have straightened and turned to go, she grabbed his shirt, holding him inches above her.
Heart pounding, he waited to see what she intended to do.
A multitude of emotions shifted across her face, too many to pinpoint just one. “Garrett,” she said, the drowsiness stealing over her making her voice husky and warm. “Thank you.”
Her lips were inches away, inviting and lush, and that sexy beauty mark beckoned to him. Had he ever wanted something so badly as to settle his mouth over Jenna’s and taste her?
He swallowed, hard. “For what?” he managed, his voice low and raspy.
“For taking care of me.” An achingly tender smile curved her mouth. “It’s been so long since anyone has been so kind to me, so caring.”
Garrett tried to straighten to break the physical and mental hold she’d seemed to cast over him, but couldn’t move. He felt himself being inexorably pulled toward her, not by the strength of her hands fisted in his shirt, but by his own damnable weakness, and the lure of what her soft, parted lips might offer.
Sweetness. Surrender. And a passion he suddenly craved more than his next breath.
He never meant for the kiss to happen. Never meant to allow himself to get caught up in needs and desires he’d buried long ago. But when she slowly slid one hand up around the back of his neck and into the hair curling over the collar of his shirt, then brought his mouth to hers, his senses spun. Her lashes fluttered closed, and resisting her became a distant thought. A Herculean effort he didn’t have the strength to battle.
The gesture itself was chaste enough, an expression of gratitude, he knew, but the way her lips molded so perfectly to his made the embrace seem more sensual than an overtly provocative kiss. Her mouth was warm and incredibly plush beneath his, so giving and sweet.
So full of the kind of promises he stopped believing in long ago.
Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back. She made a token sound of protest as their lips drew apart, but her hands fell away and her eyes never opened. Giving in to the exhaustion he knew she’d been fighting, she settled back into his pillow. With a soft, dreamy sigh she drifted off to sleep, leaving Garrett to wonder if she’d remember any of this in the morning.
Probably not.
Hopefully not.
With a groan that seemed to reverberate through Jenna’s aching head, she rolled to her side and pried her eyes open against the sunlight filtering into the room…and stared into the face of a pretty little girl with long, straight blond hair Jenna instantly envied, inquisitive green eyes, and a contemplative expression. The girl was on her knees at the side of the bed, elbows propped on the mattress, and her chin bracketed between her palms, as if she’d been there for a while, waiting for Jenna to wake up.
“Why are you sleeping in my daddy’s bed?” she asked, more curious than accusing.
Not recognizing the girl and startled by her question, Jenna’s heart leapt in her chest as she frantically searched her disoriented, foggy memory, trying to remember where she was, and how she’d gotten in this strange room and this large bed that seemed to envelop her in a subtle, masculine scent she recognized as belonging
