Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew Up. Kimberly Raye
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Rumor also had it that they were the wildest bunch of riders on the circuit. Now she knew why. They had Pete Gunner, the king, as a daily example.
The hum of an electric guitar sizzled through the air as the band started its sound check and she glanced yet again at the big red barn.
“Just ‘cause you keep starin’ don’t mean he’s going to come out of there.”
“He has to come out sooner or later.”
“I wouldn’t lay any bets on that.”
“What are you saying? That he’s never coming out?”
“I’m saying, sugar dumpling, that he already came out. About a half hour ago.”
“What?” Her gaze swiveled to the barn, then back to Eli. “No way. I’ve been standing here for the past hour. I would have seen him.”
“Not if you’re too busy yapping.”
“I wasn’t yapping. That was you.”
“Oh, yeah. Let me rephrase that—” He fed Tinkerbell another bit of cookie. “You probably didn’t notice on account of you were too busy being captivated by all my yapping.” He seemed to stop and listen. “So much so that Pete made it all the way into the shower and you didn’t notice a thing.”
“You’re saying he’s in the house?” She pointed to the massive structure. “This house? In the shower?” She didn’t wait for a reply. She snatched up the second set of contracts and marched inside.
Upstairs, she followed the sound of spraying water down the massive hallway, into the far wing of the house. Sure enough, she soon found herself in a man’s bedroom, a familiar pair of boots kicked into the far corner.
Pete was in the shower, all right. Meanwhile, she’d been standing around outside, waiting for him.
The man had no manners. Worse, he had no sense of responsibility.
That’s what her head told her. He was a wild child who had his priorities twisted.
Her heart, however, said something altogether different. Like, maybe, for whatever reason, Pete Gunner was dodging her on purpose because he really didn’t want to sign.
She remembered the way he’d eyed the contracts, the push-pull of emotion in that split second before his it’s-all-good mask had slid back into place.
Not that it mattered. She hadn’t come all this way to go back empty-handed. If he didn’t want to sign he should never have accepted in the first place. He’d done just that and she meant to see that he followed through.
The sound of running water pulled her closer until she stood inches away from the bathroom door.
She thought about knocking. She really did. But judging by what had been happening, she couldn’t help but think that he might crawl out the window if he got any advance notice that she was on to him.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed open the door and walked inside. The bathroom was huge with wall-to-wall tile and an open shower in the far corner. Steam filled the bathroom and coated it with a mist that made her feel sticky and hot.
She opened her mouth, but the words lodged in her throat as her gaze riveted on the very naked backside of Pete Gunner.
Water sluiced over his shoulders, running in rivers down his corded back, his toned buttocks. Her brain registered the absence of tan lines and immediately she had a vision of him completely naked, riding a single rope out over a cool lake on a hot summer’s day.
He turned to the side and gave her a magnificent view of his profile.
Rubbing a bar of soap between his hands, he spread the lather over his chest, his six-pack abs and down over the sprinkle of hair that led to his crotch. His penis was thick and strong, surrounded by a swirl of silky hair.
Her mouth went dry and her heart stalled. She should say something. He was naked, for heaven’s sake! Even more, she wasn’t the kind of woman who stood around lusting after naked men.
Then again, she didn’t get the opportunity very often, and as much as she tried to remember this wasn’t what she’d come for, she just couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.
He was all hard muscle and raw strength and she could feel her body responding in ways that had nothing to do with her eagerness for him to sign the papers and everything to do with raw desire. Her heart pounded and her hands trembled.
“Enjoying the view?”
At the sexy drawl, her attention snapped back to his face and her gaze locked with his. A lazy grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I …” She swallowed, desperate to find her suddenly shy voice. Get a grip, Darlington. “You still need to sign these …” The request didn’t come out nearly the way she’d rehearsed over the past several hours. There was no commanding note in her voice. No air of authority. Not even a plea of desperation. Instead, the words were choked and soft and almost an afterthought.
“You are enjoying the view.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. So am I.”
“But I’ve got my clothes on.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His gaze fixed on her chest and she glanced down to see that all the steam had made her white silk blouse practically transparent. “You’ve got beautiful nipples, sugar.”
A rush of heat went through her and she glanced down to see one traitorous bud peaking through the lace of her bra, perfectly outlined by the see-through silk.
She stiffened, determined not to turn tail and run despite the fact that he was staring at her as if he wanted to take a great big bite.
And even more, she was feeling as though she wanted him to do just that.
She stiffened and tried to gather her control. “I need the contracts signed.”
“I’m afraid we had a little accident.”
“I thought as much.” She held up the second set. “Just sign already and let’s get this over with.” She swallowed. “Please.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“You don’t get your money.”
“I doubt concern for my financial well-being brought you three hundred miles out of your way.” His gaze darkened. “And straight into a naked man’s bathroom. What really happens if I don’t sign?”
She wasn’t going to tell him. It wasn’t his business. At the same time, the words sprang to her lips and she couldn’t help herself. “I lose my job.”
He killed the water and reached for a towel. Before she could take a much-needed breath, he was standing right in front of her. “You should stop worrying so much. It ages you.”
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