squirming and it won’t hurt.” His fingers loosened but he retained his hold, forcing her to follow him down the hall.
“Let me go and I’ll quit squirming.”
He opened the door of a well-appointed office. It had a feminine feel and Lexi guessed it belonged to Lana, the gallery manager.
Jaw clenched, he released her. Then frowned at the red marks on her skin. “Your skin is too delicate.”
She rubbed her arm singeing him with a reproachful glare. “Apology accepted.”
She dropped into a visitor’s chair and crossed her legs.
“Sorry,” he muttered belatedly, grudgingly. He sat on the edge of the desk. “Now tell me how you know so many people. I saw you talking with people all over the gallery.”
“Just because I talked to people doesn’t mean I know them. Is this about me not protecting you from the madding crowd? You seemed fine whenever I glanced your way.”
“Mocking me will not save you. Answer the question.”
“Save me?” She laughed.
He didn’t.
“You targeted me, Ms. Malone. I want to know why.”
LEXI PUSHED THROUGH her front door, slammed it shut behind her and threw the bolts. Unable to shake the sense of being pursued, she backed away.
Pull it together, girl. The man had better things to do than chase her down.
After Jethro dropped his question bomb, she’d slipped out when Lana and Ethan walked in carrying the piece Ethan had chosen for Jethro.
Best timing ever.
Okay, she’d panicked.
She hadn’t been prepared for his questions.
In the bedroom she grabbed a nightgown—a lavender bit of silk edged in black lace—and headed into the bathroom for a shower. She’d bolted. What else could she do? He thought she was some femme fatale intent on getting something from him.
And, in a way, she was.
He’d been so intense she didn’t know if she’d ever be prepared to face off against him.
But she would. For Jazi.
Lexi clung to the fact he gave Miguel a healthy tip when he learned of his new baby. It showed he had some sensitivity for kids. Right?
During the cab ride home she’d decided she needed to call tomorrow and make an appointment with Jethro. She’d see him before she went into work and get this all straightened out.
Stepping under the spray, she rinsed her hair, letting the hot water soothe her. As plans went, it lacked finesse and relied heavily on his willingness to see her again. But what she’d learned of him tonight told her an up-front, honest approach was her best bet.
All the things she could say filtered through her head as she dried off and applied a tropical-scented lotion in honor of Ethan’s Escape painting. The silk of her nightgown glided over her skin in a sensual fall, ending at midthigh. She continued to ruminate while combing and drying her hair. The thick auburn tresses were still damp when she thought she heard a knock on her door.
Flipping off the hairdryer, she listened and the knocking came again. She wrinkled her nose. The last thing she needed tonight was the distraction of a friend coming over for gossip and coffee, something dancers liked to do. Since she’d left the troupe, she often had people dropping by.
Or maybe that’s exactly what she needed. To just get out of her head and focus on someone else for a while. By the time she reached the door, she was ready to embrace whoever stood on the other side.
She swung the door wide. “Hell...’’
Bug-eyed, she stared at Jethro Calder.
“What? How?”
His navy eyes swept over her darkening to near black by the time his gaze met hers. Who knew black could show such heat? He stepped forward, crowding her.
Instinctively she backed away.
He kept coming and she kept retreating until he cleared the threshold. He closed the door behind him.
“Are you crazy?” he demanded. “You don’t answer the door without knowing who’s on the other side.” His gaze made another journey over her as he continued to stalk her. “Especially dressed like that.
“How are you here?” She meant it as an accusation. It came out in a whisper as she continued to dodge his pursuit. She hit a chair and sidestepped.
“Does it matter?” He caught her elbow when she tripped over the ottoman and nearly landed on her rump. “You wanted me and, sunshine, you’ve got me.” Lifting her to her toes, he lowered his head and slanted his lips over hers.
Her hands landed on his chest ready to push him away. But oh, my...
For all his ferocity, when his mouth took hers, there was no anger, no punishing assault on her senses, nothing but pure passion, undiluted desire. The soft pressure of his lips lured her into opening to him.
Oh, he took, with a seductive demand that had her lifting farther onto her toes and looping her arms around his neck. Her mind was lost, transferring the cadence of his touch to notes in her head. Grip, glide, soft, firm, thrust, nip—the heat built in body and melody to a place she’d never been before.
He whispered erotic threats and words were added to the song in her head.
As she floated on sensation, he became her rock, hard, solid, grounded. His arms were a haven of safety and the orchestrators of the sensation and rhythm surging through her.
She wanted more. Now. More of his taste, more of his touch, more of his heat. More.
And then her knees hit up against something and she sat. She blinked and her bedroom came into focus. He’d moved them down the hall and into her room without her even noticing they were moving.
Eyes liquid with arousal, he watched her as he unbuttoned his shirt. He’d lost his jacket somewhere along the trek to the bedroom.
And OMG, she’d lost her nightgown. She sat in front of him in nothing more than a rosy blush of need.
Sanity came rushing back with a roar.
“Stop. Whoa.” Grabbing the edge of her sunny yellow comforter, she wrapped it around herself. She wasn’t modest, a dancer couldn’t afford the luxury, but she felt too exposed under his ravenous regard. “I’m sorry, but this is not going to happen.”
His fingers froze on the last connected button. “Excuse me?” Dark brows lowered in a fierce scowl.
Intimidating, much? Oh,
