―I don't think I've ever eaten on the floor.‖ The table was set with two glasses of water and the paper plates the restaurant had sent. She pointed toward the informal meal before them. However, with little or no effort, this woman had done what an entire bottle of Jack Daniels had failed to do the night before she'd silenced the questions that had been thrashing around his head relentlessly.
It was probably nothing more than the thrill of a good chase that had him feeling alive for the first time in days. He hoped her acquiescence wouldn't come too easily. Her eyes widened and darkened, exactly as he had predicted they would. She stood quickly, but held her ground as he came to a deliberately close stop.
At his approach, she looked up and for a moment appeared to reconsider her decision to stay. She was kneeling on a cushion next to his old marble coffee table, opening take-out containers. No, he intended to savor every moment and every inch of his pony-tailed brunette. He forced himself to take the stairs one at a time. The woman downstairs either had no idea who he was or she was using this pretense to heighten his interest in her. Outside of Jake's recent outburst, he couldn't remember the last person who had. Not only had his housekeeper been unimpressed by his expensive clothing she'd actually taken him to task for his behavior. He knew he was attractive, but it had been a long time since a woman had looked through his reputation and his wealth and seen him. He ran an impatient comb through his hair, threw on khaki slacks, a white cotton button down shirt, and forced himself to walk calmly rather than bolt back downstairs to check if she was still there. Would she stay the night or leave while he was freshening up? The uncertainty was a novel and somewhat unpleasant experience for him. Not too innocent, though, if the fire that leapt into her eyes at his approach was any indication. She looked innocent and wholesome, exactly the kind of woman he normally avoided. Nothing about her should have floored him, but when she'd pinned him down with those dark amber eyes, he'd almost stopped breathing. Her light complexion, devoid of makeup, was sprinkled with freckles and those simple brown curls, which had escaped her attempt to bind them back, added to the guilelessness of her image. She was lushly rounded in the places women were meant to be rounded. He could attribute some of his uncouthness to fatigue, but he suspected that it had more to do with the way she filled out her jeans. She wasn't the magazine cover type he groaned as he remembered that he'd told her as much. His blood surged each time he wondered what his housekeeper was doing.and that was about every ten seconds or so. As he toweled dry, he fought off teenage-like excitement. The hot shower he'd taken in a bathroom that could easily have fit into one of the closets at any number of his other homes, had been invigorating and brief.
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