so totally lost her mind in that elevator. Thank God she’d found it since.
More or less.
Though being reminded of the delicious things he’d done to her during her temporary insanity wasn’t helping.
She looked up and realized he was gazing at her sardonically, his thoughts as transparent as hers apparently were.
“Forget it.” She wagged a finger. “No bodyguard necessary. Literally or otherwise. I saw the size of the fence around this place, and the only person I’m in danger from here is you.” And possibly herself.
“Only thinking of your safety,” he said amenably.
“Sure you are.”
Seeking a distraction, she glanced around the glamorous room, filled with the trappings of wealth, and was suddenly struck with a pang of regret. What would it be like to be part of this world, even for a few days…or nights? Would it be such a sacrifice to sleep with him, to find out?
God, no. Not in the least. The man was to die for. And she’d be using him just as much as he was using her. But…
“I’m sorry, casual sex isn’t something I do.” She felt the need to explain, but it came with a belated inward wince. “Embarrassing evidence to the contrary.”
He smiled. “Nothing embarrassing about it. In fact, it was pretty damn hot if you ask me. For, you know, not being casual sex.”
She actually felt a flush work its way up her throat to her cheeks. Good grief. When was the last time she’d blushed?
Help.
“You said something about a guest house? I really should get some sleep or I’ll be a mess at work tonight.” She sighed. “Assuming I still have a job.”
He looked surprised. “You’re going back there?”
“Hell, yeah. If the boss will let me. I have no choice, Conner. I have bills to pay. Money doesn’t grow on trees.” She glanced around again. “Well, for some of us anyway.”
He ignored the barb and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”
“You? What do you mean?”
“So quickly they forget.”
“Oh. Right.” They were stuck like glue until Special Agent Duncan decided to arrest her. Which meant Conner’d have to come to the club with her.
A memory washed over her, of him sitting in the front row sipping champagne like a dissolute sultan, watching her take off every stitch of clothing. And—oh, God—how turned on she’d been. By him. By his negligent air of wealth and power. And the hungry look in his eyes as his gaze had caressed her nude body. No wonder she’d gone off like a rocket when he touched her later on.
She swallowed. “I suppose you’ll insist on going with me.”
“Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.” He winked.
That’s what she was afraid of.
That, and the nutcase who might now be after her because of that damn ring. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea he went with her, after all.
Bad enough she’d invaded his dreams all night like some kind of teasing succubus, but even now, the next morning, sun shining, birds singing, the little witch was still torturing him. Deliberately. With malice aforethought.
Conner frowned, taking in the sight that had nearly made the tray of coffee and croissants he was carrying spill all over the Mexican patio tiles. The French doors to the cabana had been flung open. Sheer curtains billowed out from them in the hot desert breeze. Inside the dim room, the scene was straight out of one of the erotic dreams he’d been haunted by all night.
Vera. Nude. Sprawled on her stomach across her bed…Except in his dreams of course it had been his bed. Sheets in a tangle. Her skin moist with a sheen of sweat. Her hair in a mess as though from his fingers…Except his fingers had unfortunately been nowhere near her last night.
Seeing her like that, he’d been shocked enough that his first thought was that she was dead. Lying there brutally murdered, like his cousin Candace. The memory of that crime scene had streaked through his mind, nearly tipping the tray in his hands. Thankfully she’d stirred immediately at the sound of the rattling dishes so he knew she was okay, or he would really have lost it.
As it was, he was now close to losing it for an entirely different reason.
The woman was a sensual vision. Her hot body even sexier than in his dreams.
Easy, boy.
She’d made it clear last night she was no longer interested in sex with him. He’d honored her wishes and hadn’t pushed it, although he was pretty sure he could have changed her mind with very little effort. They obviously had chemistry. Potent chemistry. And lots of it.
But this…this was unfair.
Or maybe it was an invitation? Had she gone to bed naked, hoping he would come to her?
What an idiot. He should at least have tried…
“Conner?”
He started at the sound of her throaty, sleep-muzzy voice. The dishes rattled, and he had to catch the tray for the second time to keep from dumping it.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
She turned over in the bed, and he gripped the tray even harder. Pure torture. “What have you got?”
Besides a hard-on? “Breakfast,” he croaked. “Interested?”
“Mmm.” Her arms rose in a languorous stretch. “Coffee, I hope?”
Lord, help him.
“Yep.” He reached a nearby patio table just in time, depositing the tray on the round glass top with a clatter. After righting the cups and returning the croissants to the plate, he turned, ready to abandon all pretense and just go in and devour her, when she strolled by with another stretch, heading for the pool.
“I feel divine! Haven’t slept so well in ages,” she declared, pushing her mane of chestnut hair back from her face. “I love sleeping with the doors open, with the warm air and the smell of the desert. Haven’t been able to do that since I sold the mobile home.”
He paused, nonplussed. Okay. Obviously not an invitation. He grappled for a thread of conversation that didn’t involve the words condom or go down. “Mobile home?” he asked.
She shot him a look, stopping at the edge of the pool and dipping a toe into it. A toe that was bare, just like the rest of her. “I grew up in the Sunnyvale Mobile Home Park, just outside of town.”
He knew that. He was just momentarily brain-dead. “No air-conditioning?” he ventured.
She smiled. “No.”
She
