A Calculated Seduction(20)
Her rebuke died on her lips. Ethan wasn’t dressed in his usual attire. The red and black flannel shirt hung open, revealing a white t-shirt. A pair of well-worn jeans hung on his lean hips. Old sneakers completed the outfit.
Oh, Lord. As her gaze traveled back up his body, her pulse accelerated. The denim hugged his legs and sex. She licked her lips. The T-shirt clung to his abs, showing off their muscular definition. She lifted her eyes to his face. Jesus, even his scowl sent shock waves lancing through her. How was she supposed to keep her hands off him when he showed up on her doorstep looking like that?
* * * *
Ethan felt like a fool. After an irritating conversation with Todd, he’d been restless. More and more, he began to question their investigation. Dulcy Menendez couldn’t be an embezzler any more than she could be a horse. He could tell by looking into her clear topaz eyes.
When he’d told Todd what he thought, his old friend had accused Ethan of being slightly biased. He’d known Todd longer than any of his other employees. Ethan really hated it when Todd was right. And that’s why he was mad. At himself, and Todd. Ethan had been giving her the benefit of the doubt. She was under investigation and his job was not to give her any excuses.
He knew better than to trust emotions when involved with women. His own parents had been the perfect example. They both wanted one thing—money. When his father failed at business, their marriage had fallen apart. Growing up with two people who refused to divorce, but hated each other, hadn’t been fun. But it had taught him never to trust emotion. His ex-fiancée had solidified the lesson. Fiona was a rich man’s daughter and wanted to be a rich man’s wife. Problem was, she didn’t expect fidelity from him. Probably because he knew not to expect it from her.
“Eth...er, Mr. MacMillan. What are you doing here?” Her eyes widened behind her glasses when she realized how rude the question sounded. “What I mean was—”
“No, that’s okay. I was driving around and thought I’d stop by. If I’m interrupting...”
“Oh, no. Just watching a movie.”
She didn’t move or ask him in. She just stood there, the warm light casting a glow to her skin. Her shirt was loose, too big to even show any interesting curves, but her little pants hugged her thighs and gave him a great view of her shapely legs. His cock twitched and he had to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her until she forgot her last name.
“Dulcy?”
“Oh, oh. Would you like to come in?”
The tone in her voice wasn’t especially welcoming. But she stepped back and pulled the door open. The warmth of her apartment seeped into him the moment he stepped across the threshold. Not just the temperature. She had decorated the place with reds, yellows and oranges. Various lamps and candles littered her end tables and coffee table. Anyone who walked in would feel comfortable upon entering.
“I was just watching Father Goose.” She shut the door and followed him to the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat? Would you like a soda?”
“That sounds great.”
He settled on the yellow flowered couch. His eyes took in the room, the knickknacks, the pictures, then his gaze roamed to the bed in the alcove. Immediately, a vision of Dulcy, rolling around in the bed, her hair a tangle of curls, her skin warm from his loving, exploded in his mind. His blood warmed and drained to his dick. He gulped, then drew in a deep breath.
What was he doing here? What impulse drove him over here on a Saturday night? He couldn’t rein in his usually controllable urges. He’d grown up in a family where spur of the moment actions weren’t appreciated. Restlessness consumed him. He’d paced through his house and decided a drive would be good. Without realizing it, he ended up at Dulcy’s apartment complex.
If he’d been that lonely, he could easily have called Ms. Marcy Williams. She’d definitely made sure he knew she was free this weekend. She’d stopped by his office late last night to complain of her dateless weekend. But the idea of spending time with a woman, who wanted nothing but a good time and sex, left him feeling oddly flat. He wanted to spend time with a woman who wanted more, expected more.
A woman like Dulcy.
“Here you go,” Dulcy said, handing him a glass filled with ice and soda. She settled on the chair, not the couch. An uncomfortable silence descended. The only sounds were the television and the ice clinking in their glasses. Ethan avoided eye contact.
Dulcy cleared her throat. He looked at her. Her hair was pulled off her face by some kind of stretchy headband. She wore no makeup, but he couldn’t deny his pulse beating out of control and the slow roll of lust churning his gut.