Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [28]
Hmm…my, oh my, had it been tempting to slide my hand lower. Maybe pretending it was an accident. Just to see if he was as stunning from the waist down as he was from the waist up.
Aside from his strength, however, I had really noticed a hint of gauntness. I didn’t doubt that he was recovering from some kind of accident, like the ones I’d been visualizing in my room the previous night. And though I’d asked if he’d been sick I knew, from the scars, that in actuality he’d been injured—stabbed or shot.
Why he’d chosen to lock himself away in this creepy old house to recover all alone, I had no idea. But he wasn’t going to be alone anymore.
“It worked, I’m staying,” I whispered, laughter bubbling up inside me as I made my way to the kitchen.
I probably should have been feeling a lot of Catholic guilt over the whole car thing, but somehow, I couldn’t. “It’s for his benefit, too,” I said, trying to convince myself that my lies were well-justified.
No lies were, I knew that. But my presence was going to help him, not hinder him. Whether he liked it or not, I was going to at least see that the man got a few proper meals and took care of himself for a few days.
Maybe by helping take care of him physically, he’d open up about what was going on in his head. I know, wishful thinking. Men aren’t cut out for that. But I could always hope. Because one thing was sure, something was weighing heavily on him and it wasn’t just his health. When I’d mentioned smelling the incense, he’d looked ready to drop to his knees and propose to me, as if he thought I shouldn’t have noticed the odor but was thrilled that I had.
I wouldn’t mind having the man on his knees in front of me. Proposing something sinful. Then doing it.
Shutting my eyes, I leaned against the kitchen doorway, which I’d just closed behind me, and let my head fill with possibilities. I was staying in a secluded, private place with a dark and sensual man. A man like no one I’d ever met, who I wanted with every molecule in my body.
I just had to make him want me, too. Last night—when he’d kissed me—he’d wanted me then. Oh, he’d definitely wanted me.
But in the daylight hours, Simon Lebeaux was much more in control of himself. Curse the luck.
“Lottie? Everything all right?”
Jerking upright, I whirled around and saw him standing on the other side of the kitchen. “Where did you come from?” I asked, wondering how on earth he could have gotten past me when I was blocking the damn door. And how pink my face must be considering I’d just been picturing the man naked and tied to my bed. Or tying me to my bed. Either way would work.
Like I said, I’d only had meat and potatoes. The closest I’d ever come to kinky sex was when my very first lover got a little overanxious with his repetitive, boring thrusting, missed the mark and almost went in the back door. Yow.
Simon cleared his throat. And my face probably went from pink to flaming red as I wondered what on earth the man would say if I admitted what I’d just been thinking about.
He pointed to what I had thought was just a pantry. “Hidden access to the office. My uncle used to use it since this was his private part of the house and he liked to stay away from the public areas when he could.”
I’d already figured he was sticking to the private rooms. Much of the hotel was closed and obviously unused—like a larger, professional-size kitchen and an adjoining room that appeared to have once been a small restaurant.
“Secret passages. This place is like a Clue game board.”
“There’s no conservatory,” he murmured, completely straight-faced, though his voice held that same hint of wry humor I’d caught once or twice before.
I couldn’t help grinning. “And hopefully no candlesticks.”
“Lanterns only,” he replied. “Though I am afraid I do carry a rope in my back pocket.”
And a lead pipe in his front one? Now I knew he was joking because when I laughed out loud, he joined me. He actually laughed.
Oh, Lord, if the man had been