of muscle tone. Sky glanced up at the beamed ceiling, deciding it best not to envision her breasts swelling beneath that flowery-printed towel. Having her in his room proved difficult enough. She brought a feminine glow to the otherwise dark, masculine surroundings. The tall oak dresser and navy-blue bedspread would never be the same.
She sniffed again. “You can turn around now.”
Her fuzzy pink robe made him smile. He could almost imagine her wearing a pair of big, fluffy slippers to match. The forlorn expression on her face was hard to swallow, though. He knew Tequila was responsible for her distress. Of course, if Tequila was at fault, then so was he. That knowledge was even harder to swallow.
She hugged herself as if to ward off snake-induced goose bumps. “Will you come in the bathroom with me and stand guard? I have to rinse my hair.”
“Me? Stand guard?” The guy lusting after you?
She gave a tight little nod. “I can’t go back in there by myself. What if the snake is hiding? She might attack me.”
Tequila wouldn’t attack a mouse, he thought. Okay, a mouse, but not a woman. ’Course, she might be hiding in the drywall somewhere, it was kind of a game he and the snake played. Reptile hide ’n’ seek. “Are you that scared?”
She nodded again. “Please, Sky.”
His pleaded name on her lips was all the encouragement he needed. Fear never sounded sweeter. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms, imaginary bunny slippers and all. “Okay.”
Windy tightened her robe. “First I’ll have to get dressed.”
He cocked his head. “Huh?”
She squinted through red-rimmed eyes, sounding quite prim and proper. “I’m going to wear my swimsuit in the shower.”
Unable to control himself, Sky erupted into a fit of boisterous chuckles. Adorable and naive didn’t begin to describe her. He didn’t normally keep company with innocent little blondes wrapped in cotton-candy robes. “You’re somethin’ else, Pretty Windy.”
Rather than share his mirth, she clenched her teeth. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. This is all your fault. You and that snake.”
Sky sobered, even though he still felt like grinning. She had no idea how sweet she was. The girlish burst of temper made her look like a hissing kitten trapped in a giant robe, claws bared, matted fur drenched with shampoo. “Sorry. I have sort of a warped sense of humor. I usually laugh at all the wrong times.”
She snorted in indignation. “A snake in the shower isn’t funny.”
“Not to you maybe, but I bet your grandchildren will hoot and holler over it.”
Slowly a tiny smile worked its way across Windy’s lips. “I suppose you’re right about that.” Quickly the smile faded. “But you have no idea how much I hate snakes. I’ve heard stories on the news about pythons, about how they—”
“Tequila’s a boa,” he interrupted, thinking both pythons and boas made fine companions. “And I swear she won’t hurt you. She likes people.”
Windy didn’t seem convinced. “Will you wait outside my bedroom door while I put my bathing suit on?” She nibbled her lower lip and cast him a nervous glance. “Just in case.”
In case what? The snake attacked her? Windy darted into her room, and Sky crossed his arms and leaned against the door. Tequila was harmless. He was the one capable of an attack. After nearly a year of celibacy, the warrior blood was boiling, running through his veins in hot, hungry surges.
About three minutes later she opened the door.
“I’m ready.” Pink robe in place, she strode past him.
He followed closely behind.
Too closely. When Windy hesitated at the bathroom door, her abrupt halt caught him off guard. Like an oversize oaf, he bumped right into her.
She gasped and he brought his hands forward, fisting her robe to steady her. Damn. He almost had Pretty Windy in his arms again. Almost. Just ease closer, press your face against the bubbles on her neck, inhale her skin.
Instead he swallowed and released her robe. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, honey?”
“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine.” Apparently more concerned about Tequila’s whereabouts than his proximity, she poked her head in the bathroom door. “Will you go in ahead of me?”
“Sure.” When he brushed by, Windy reached for his hand.
Sky’s breath caught reflexively in his throat. Her feathery touch sent him straight into hormone overdrive. Linking his fingers through hers, he walked slowly through the bathroom, heightening the pleasure, if only for a brief, forbidden moment.
Still holding hands, they neared the bathtub. After making a thorough examination of the surroundings, Windy tugged her hand away. “Go wait over by the sink. And turn around.”
Turn around? Jeez, she wore a bathing suit under that robe. After dragging him out of bed and teasing him with that towel display earlier, the least she could do was give him a quick thrill. “Do you keep your robe on when you go to the beach?”
“Dang it, Sky, just turn around.”
He almost laughed. The hissing kitten had returned, too tiny to look tough, too sweet to sound menacing. He imagined dang was as far as she went.
“Skyler!”
He bit back another grin. Apparently she meant business with the use of his formal name. “You sure are—”
“I mean it, Sky.”
A cute little filly. “Okay…okay.”
He moved over to the sink, rolled his eyes and turned away. When he heard the spray of water, he wrestled with his conscience. Should he sneak a peek or just imagine what she looked like through the bubbled shower enclosure? Edith Burke’s hanky-panky speech sounded in his mind. If that sweet old lady knew what he was up to, she’d skin him alive.
Oh, what the hell. He flashed a wicked grin and turned around.
Windy’s robe lay in a heap on the floor. He shook his head. The pile of worn-out terry cloth actually ignited his pulse. Stop now, he told himself, before it’s too late.
Naw, he deserved a peek. Just one.
Making a quick mental note to reward Tequila, he sat on the edge of the sink, stretched out his long legs and leaned over. There she stood, a slim, shadowy figure behind rippled Plexiglas, arms raised, hands moving through her hair. Female flesh and bits of white fabric.
He tilted his head, expanding his view. A tantalizing aroma wafted through the gathering steam, filling his nostrils with a treat: a woman’s sweet perfume, vanilla-scented soap. Her damp skin would feel soft, like flower petals after a summer rain, moist and smooth, blooming with color—inviting his caress, his kiss.
It was all in his mind’s eye. The two of them together under the warm spray of water, her soapy hands sliding across his chest,
