Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [12]
Ridiculous, really, to think in those terms about a woman he didn't know. But there had been something magical about her from the moment she'd entered the room. It wasn't just her underwear, though that, of course, had been very special, too. He couldn't put his finger on what so intrigued him about her. The pale blue eyes shining with an innate sense of humor? The light dusting of freckles on her nose, which probably drove her crazy but made him want to lean over to kiss every single one? He didn't know yet, but he planned to find out.
He reached for the phone, then dialed Raul's cell phone number. When the other man answered, Nate could hear the voices and tinkling glasses in the background, meaning Raul was still at the party. He gave him a slightly abridged version of what had happened, not mentioning his blond rescuer. Or the trampoline. And especially not the black thong panties.
"You mean, you tripped and fell into the pool and now you're hiding out in the gym in a soaking wet tuxedo?"
Nate tried not to take offense at the laughter in the other man's voice. "Would you please spread the word that I was called away on an emergency and I'll try to get back in an hour? I should have enough time to get out of here, race home, change and come back. Okay?"
After Raul agreed, Nate hung up and waited for the woman to come out of the bathroom. He tugged off the hated bow tie, which was nearly choking him now that it was tight and wet, and dropped it and his jacket on the floor. Then he kicked off his ruined shoes and socks. When she still hadn't emerged, he muttered, "To hell with it," and started to yank off his white dress shirt. She chose to come out just as he'd pulled the shirt off his shoulders.
The look in her eyes made him glad he worked out.
She froze in the open doorway, her mouth opening slowly but no sound coming out. Her hand rose to her neck, her index finger resting on the sexy spot right in the hollow of her throat. The same spot he'd fantasized about kissing minutes earlier by the pool.
She wore a white terry-cloth bathrobe, and her face was clean, washed free of makeup. The damp golden hair was combed in a sleek wave to brush her shoulders. He couldn't resist looking down the rest of her, at the slim legs and delicate bare feet revealed by the robe. She'd been gorgeous in the black dress. Now, wearing absolutely nothing but the robe—he somehow imagined she'd shed the minuscule underclothes, which had to have been soaking wet—she was deadly.
When he finally lifted his gaze to her face, he noticed her attention still fixed somewhere around his collarbone. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes off his chest, at least until he dropped the shirt entirely. Then she moved her stare to his shoulders. She did absolutely nothing but look, and he reacted as if they'd shared a passionate embrace. The woman's covetous eyes had brought about a strong reaction below his waist Very strong. Very pressing.
And probably very damn obvious.
"Uh, you can have…" she stuttered.
A hot amazing night with you?
"That is," she continued awkwardly, "feel free to take…"
You home with me?
"The bathroom. It's all yours," she finally said as she stepped into the gym and turned her back to him.
"Sure," he muttered. "And I'm finished with the phone."
He somehow refrained from touching her as he walked past her into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, wondering how the sight of her, a woman he'd known for less than an hour, could reduce him to one large walking case of need. Those eyes, that smile, those pretty feet and delicately boned ankles—she had aroused him more than any other woman had in his lifetime.
When he'd regained control of himself, he stripped off the rest of his wet clothes and toweled off. The towel he'd grabbed from a rack was damp, and as he used it, he caught a scent of something sweet and flowery, like the smell of his mother's roses that grew on a trellis along the