“I’m going to look for Phan,” Sam said to Max. “Stay with her.”
“I don’t need a guard.”
“No, you need a brain.”
Her smile was nothing short of acidic. “Chivalry isn’t your strong suit, I see. If it were, you’d at least be seeing to the wounds you made.” She modeled her bloody knees.
They were a mess, but considering the bandits wanted to put two bullets in her head, she shouldn’t be complaining. “Sorry, lady, no medical supplies.”
“I have something to fix that,” Max said.
“Figures.”
As Sam walked away, Max moved forward, and knelt. “Don’t mind him, he’s in a rotten mood.”
“I couldn’t tell, his effervescent personality just blew me away.” Max ripped open a packet and started to clean her knees. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” she said, taking the antiseptic towel.
He frowned.
“Well—” She flushed. “He knocked me down when a ‘hey you, wait’ would have done the trick. That man is extreme in every sense of the word.”
Max sat back, grinning. She had Sam pegged from the get-go. Interesting. She finished cleaning her knees, pulling her leg up to her face like a dancer to blow off the sting. Great legs.
“Thank you, Max.”
He frowned, glanced the way the other had gone. “Come on.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” She really didn’t want to trek through the jungle. The dart had to come from somewhere.
“He’s been gone too long.”
“Well, that can’t be good.”
He helped her off the ground and she followed him as they moved into the forest. Max hacked their way through the jungle for a considerable distance when he stopped, and called out softly.
Viva peered around him and she saw his partner.
He waved Max on. “You stay there,” he said, pointing.
“Anyone ever mention you have control issues?”
And finally, take a peek at HelenKay Dimon’s
“Player’s Club”
in her upcoming anthology,
VIVA LAS BAD BOYS,
coming next month from Brava!
“Nothing to see. The lights are off. I don’t hear the air-conditioning so I’m guessing we blew a circuit breaker or something.”
“You’re trying to say your kisses were so good that we blew a fuse? Try again, stud.”
His chuckle rumbled against her chest. He flicked back the edge of the curtain and let the light from the Strip stream into the room. “Probably from the construction. ’Tho think how impressive the kiss thing would be.”
Dumb didn’t begin to describe how she felt at the moment. She made every professional misstep imaginable. Lose control? Check. Let her desires overwhelm her good sense? Check. Let her consulting client go one step too far on the floor of her office? That was new, but still a check.
Damn hormones.
What she needed was a little decorum. Getting off the floor and out from under him would be a good start. “Okay, fun time is over.”
“Most people would look at the lights being out as a message.”
He felt so right there with her body curved into his. “Right. The message being to get up.”
He frowned at her and managed to look adorable doing it. “I was thinking more like the opposite conclusion.”
She tried to concentrate on his argument, lame as it was, but his firm body kept dragging her attention away. From the impressive bulge pressing against her thigh to his hard-as-granite everything else, she wanted him.
His pretty boy face and easy charm attracted her from the beginning. With every day that passed she wanted him more.
“Shouldn’t you get back to your kitchen?” she asked.
“Sam has it under control. He’s my second in command. He could run his own kitchen and is totally qualified to take over in my absence.”
Commonsense didn’t seem to be working, but she tried again. “Yeah, well, we should be out there checking on the guests.”
“Unless you plan to hand out flashlights, I’m not sure what you could do.”
“I could . . .” Something?
“We can’t do any work. We’re all alone. It’s dark. I’m on top of you.”
“I notice you’re not getting up,” she muttered under her breath.
“Think of the darkness as the universe’s sign we should keep on doing what we’re doing.” His hand rested on her breast and showed no sign of moving, so it wasn’t hard to figure out what the “what” was.
“We need to go,” she insisted.
“Most people wouldn’t view the lights going out as a reason to stop having fun.”
Then it hit her. She was having sex with Zach. On her floor. In her office. She’d even touched his ass. So much for professionalism. Nothing prepared her for Zach.
“Zach, I’m serious.” More like embarrassed, but he didn’t need to know that.
He lowered his head until his forehead touched her breasts. The move sent an ache spinning from her chest to the damp space between her thighs.
“You’re actually going to do it.” He mumbled into the thin material separating them.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Do what?”
He skimmed his finger under the edge of her camisole and flimsy bra and outlined her nipple until it puckered. “Call a halt. Go right to the edge and pull back.”
“I didn’t—” She gasped when he slipped the two layers of silk down, exposing her breast.
Then he palmed her, his hand warm against her chilled skin. “Man, you’re beautiful.”
She couldn’t speak.
“I wanted time to do this.” He licked her nipple, flicking his tongue across the tight bud.
She tried to remember her name. Bartholomew something. . .
“And this.” He placed his hot mouth over the tip and suckled her. Twirling his tongue over her and wetting her skin.
Someone moaned. She feared it came from deep inside of her.
“So pretty.” His reverent whisper tickled against her breast.
Two more seconds and her skirt would be over her head. “Stop!”
“You still want that clipboard?”
“Yeah, so I can beat you with it.”
“Well, honey, I’m not usually into that, but I’m game.”
She couldn’t handle his cuteness. Not now. She needed him angry. Pissed. Whatever it took to get him off of her.
“Your Performance Plan is getting longer by the second.”
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2006 by Sylvia Day
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Brava and the logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-9061-8
Notes
1 The grille method was developed by the French Cardinal Richelieu in the 1600s. Its purpose was to create secret messages that could only be deciphered by a special card punched with holes in strategic locations.
Sylvia Day, Ask for It
(Series: Georgian # 1)
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends