Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [13]
He needed another drink.
“For the past hour I was thinking of nothing but how scary this place was going to be, and wondering how I’d let myself get talked into coming here.” She laughed softly, a low, whiskey laugh. “But the worse the weather got, and the heavier my eyelids, the more I just desperately wanted to get here so I could get into bed.”
Simon coughed into his fist, glad he hadn’t just sipped his scotch. “Into bed?”
“Sure. That’s the only thing that kept me going, knowing there’d be a nice big, warm bed at the end of my trip.” She shrugged. “Speaking of which…maybe I should head there and get out of these clothes.”
Simon sat there for a moment, trying to put it all together. Finally he got it. The sexy-as-hell woman who’d landed on his doorstep had been sent here. She’d landed in his arms. She’d been wiggling that gorgeous ass and smiling that seductive smile and making him hard from halfway across the room just by the way she savored a little warmth.
She was obviously good at what she did. Very good. And he suddenly began to suspect he knew what that was.
“Who sent you?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet. “Was it Adam? My agent?”
She raised a quizzical brow. “No, I don’t know anyone named Adam.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” he said, thrusting a hand through his hair as the anger and frustration rose within him. Damn his interfering friends. It didn’t really matter who had done it, they were all equally as pushy and intrusive. Any one of them could have done this.
Because he had no doubt he’d finally figured out the secret of this sexy mystery woman. Someone had hired her to come here and cheer him up. Get him back in the saddle, in one way or another. And all of those ways involved him getting her naked.
Any normal man would probably be very cheered up at the idea of taking this incredible woman to bed. And if she’d showed up on his doorstep four months ago, he would have done exactly that. He wouldn’t have let her up until she couldn’t walk. Or even close her thighs.
He wasn’t that man anymore, however, and he didn’t know if he ever would be. So though part of him—a big part—was tempted to help her strip out of her wet clothes right here and now, and take her on the thick, plush carpet in front of the fireplace, he simply couldn’t do it. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” he muttered. “Your…services…aren’t required.”
She tilted her head in confusion even as she tried awkwardly to squeeze some remaining water out of her hair. “My services?”
Why did she have to look so adorable, as well as so damn hot? He couldn’t stand the contrast, since both sides of her appealed to him so strongly.
Simon managed to thrust his deep, primal reaction to her away. Crossing his arms and leveling a steady stare at her, he said, “Yes, your services. I’m sure whoever hired you thought they were doing me a favor. But I’m just not in the market.” Though deep inside, a tiny voice protested the lie, he added, “You’re not what I need.”
“Not…”
“So as soon as you dry off, you might as well go to your car and drive back to wherever you came from. Because you won’t be sharing my bed tonight.”
Her jaw dropped. “Your bed?”
“Right. You are beautiful, I won’t deny it, but I’m just not in the mood for a hooker.”
3
Lottie
EXCUSE ME WHILE I fall to the floor in paroxysms of laughter. I, Lottie Santori, so untouched in nearly three years that my hymen had probably grown back, was being called a hooker.
The irony didn’t escape me.
Funny, on the rare occasions I’d imagined myself being insulted by a man, I thought I’d go all slap-happy on his ass. I mean, on his face. But my first instinct was not to slap. It was to howl. To grab my stomach and laugh until it hurt and tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
Unable to quit it, I shook my head back and forth, snorting