She cleared her throat. “Actually, it belongs to a good friend of mine, Mia Maldonado. I’m the office assistant for Mia’s Makeovers, a design business she runs out of the house we both live in. I guess that’s why I feel like the business belongs to me, too.”
Her explanation didn’t quite ring true, though if he stared into those eyes long enough, he’d believe any word out of her lovely mouth. Her eyes looked even sexier in the glow of the jukebox and he wondered how many men had lost themselves in their warm chocolate depths.
Nate hated to admit that Mrs. Hamilton might be right about her son’s fiancée. She was a femme fatale, with an aura of wanton innocence that few men could resist. The kind of woman who could easily make a weak man surrender his heart as well as his money to her without a struggle.
Nate had only known Carleen for a few minutes and he was already mesmerized. But he wasn’t weak. Or stupid. There was something about her that bothered him. Something fishy that made him want to keep asking her questions until the answers started to make sense.
Then she asked a question of her own. “So what do you do for a living, Nate?”
“I’m a security specialist,” he replied without missing a beat. “In fact, I’ve done some security work for Harlan—surveillance cameras around his estate and keyless entries, that sort of thing.”
“Is that why he trusts you alone with me?”
“That and the fact that any significant change in your bioreadings will bring someone in here to check on you. Plus, there’s the call button, which you just proved works quite well.”
She leaned up to look at it and he inhaled the soft scent of her hair and felt the warmth radiating from her body. A body separated from him by only the thin fabric of her nightshirt.
He fought to keep his focus. “So you see, we’re not quite as alone as it seems.”
That realization dampened his impending fantasy. A fantasy that featured Carleen without her nightshirt.
Not a good idea.
In the first place, she was an engaged woman. In the second place, he had every reason to believe that she was a liar and a scam artist,. and that she was only marrying Tobias Hamilton for his fortune.
But if he did attempt to seduce her, what better way to prove her love and loyalty to Tobias? If she resisted his advances, then Nate could pass it on to Mrs. Hamilton as evidence that Carleen truly loved her son. If she didn’t…then better the truth come out now rather than after the wedding.
She yawned beside him, then rolled away, tucking her pillow under her head. “I have to admit that does make me feel better. No offense, Nate.”
“None taken.”
Nate considered the consequences of romancing Carleen Wimmer away from Hamilton, aware of the dangers of mixing business with pleasure. And seducing this woman would most definitely be a pleasure. His body tightened just thinking about stripping away that nightshirt and discovering all her intimate secrets.
“Besides,” she said sleepily, “if you’re a security specialist, I should be safe with you.”
Nate smiled into the dark at her assumption. Big mistake, Carleen. Big mistake.
THE NEXT MORNING, Mia awoke to find Nate hovering over her, his fingers gently brushing over her right temple. She sucked in her breath, afraid to move as his eyes met hers. Afraid not to move as he leaned toward her to whisper, “Good morning.”
His smile was slow and sexy, sending her heartbeat into double time. Muscles bulged in his arm as he propped himself up on his elbow next to her. He lay so close to her that his thigh pressed into her hip and she could feel the radiant heat of his powerful body from head to toe.
An odd, tingling warmth swirled in the pit of her stomach, then moved lower. Her gaze fell to his firm lips. They were so near to her own that she could capture his mouth in a kiss without even moving her head off the pillow. Maybe that would finally quench the fire that had been burning inside of her since Nate had slipped beneath the covers last night.
He looked even better in the light of day. Dark eyebrows arched across his wide brow and whiskers shadowed his lean jaw.
Mia saw both strength and experience in his face, which she found more alluring than any picture-perfect male model. She wanted to ask him about the scar above his right eyebrow and the second one she’d just noticed at the base of his chin. She wanted to trace the rugged terrain of his cheekbones with her fingertips as well as the small dimple that rarely dared to appear at the corner of his mouth.
She wanted what she couldn’t have.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, his fingers sliding over her forehead and into her hair.
Then what had he meant to do? Seduce her in her sleep? Mia imagined waking up with his hands under his nightshirt, his nimble fingers caressing her breasts instead of her head. Or finding him naked under the sheets, his lips sliding slowly up her inner thigh until he found her wet and ready for him. Like she was right now.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice raspy with both sleep and desire.
“Hannah was in a few minutes ago and unhooked you from the machine. There’s still some of that sticky gel on your forehead and in your hair. I was trying to wipe it off before it dried.”
A perfectly reasonable explanation. So why did his touch feel more like a seduction than a simple act of kindness? She saw no kindness in his eyes. Only heat and hunger and a stark, raw need that touched something deep inside of her. Something that made her want him even more, if that was possible.
But it didn’t matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t have him. Not if she finally wanted to break her bad habit of falling too hard and too fast for the wrong kind of man. And Nate Cafferty had Mr. Wrong written over every inch of his sinfully delicious body.
“Please,” she began, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers trailed sensuously over the curve of her cheek and along the length of her jaw.
“Please what?” he whispered huskily.
She swallowed, drumming up every bit of willpower she possessed. “Please…stop. I think all the gel is off.”
To her surprise, he did.
Nate rolled away from her and sat up on his side of the bed. He wiped his fingers on a tissue from the nightstand. Then she heard him take a long, deep breath before reaching for his duffel bag on the floor.
Maybe Harlan was right and she could trust him.
Not that Nate could trust her. He didn’t even know her real name or identity, after all. But what did it really matter? After this sleep study ended, she’d never see the man again.
“Did you know you hog the covers?” Nate asked, pulling his T-shirt off, then tossing it in the bag.
Her mouth went dry at the way the muscles flexed over the width of his bare back and shoulders. “I do not.”
“Do, too,” he countered, glancing back at her with a smile.
