Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(6)

A gorgeous ass. A strong ass. An ass custom-made for a woman’s first one-night stand. She couldn’t wait to get a handful of that ass.

And why the hell shouldn’t she? No one even knew where she was, not a brother, cousin, or overprotective grandfather to put the brakes on this hairpin turn the night was about to take.

He stood on the sidewalk, giving her a hand as she hopped out of the van. And then he kept holding it as they walked into the lobby. His palm was rough and masculine, his fingers strong and protective.

Her heart flipped around helplessly, like that of a teenage girl about to get felt up for the first time. The whole thing was so sexy and illicit, so blissfully impromptu.

The registration line was long, and they ended up separated for a bit while they each checked in. Yes, it was nice not to be forced into an awkward discussion over sharing a room in front of the hotel staff, but the brief separation also left her uncertain if hot sex with a stranger was in her immediate future.

With her key in hand, she met him across the lobby, where he stood holding his own key and his brown duffel bag. Oh shit, moment of truth. Didn’t these things usually happen after too much booze? At least enough to fend off some kind of anxiety attack in which she would blab on about how she’d never done this before?

But he just stared at her, a challenge in his eyes. No smile, now, but the corner of his mouth turned up with an unspoken question.

“I, um, need to go in here,” she said, hating the bout of nerves that clutched her. She turned to the tiny convenience store, already full of several of their vanmates. “To get…stuff.”

“All right.” He didn’t move, but didn’t offer to wait, clearly leaving the next step up to her. That was another thing she liked; he wasn’t aggressive. He was letting her call the shots, but all along, there was that secret suggestion that he was the one in control.


It made her dizzy.

She headed into the little store, rounding a rack of books to get to the toiletries in the back. She picked up a toothbrush, travel-size toothpaste, and skimmed the rest of the items, imagining what she’d need for one night.

Trojans.

She stared at the box.

“Francesca.” A hand landed on her shoulder, making her startle and turn to see an unexpected fierceness in his narrowed eyes. “You can call this thing quits any time you want.”

This thing? Quits? Her heart dipped. “What if I don’t want to…call it quits?”

He didn’t move his hand or make any effort to step away. Instead, he studied her face to the point of uncomfortable scrutiny. “I mean you don’t have to.”

She gave an awkward laugh. “I know I don’t have to. I…want to. I mean, not if you don’t, but I like you, and I’m…” She closed her eyes and let out a ragged sigh. “You’re not making this whole seduction thing very easy.”

His eyes flashed for a second, and he inched back, almost as if this news surprised him. He didn’t know where this was headed.

“Francesca.” He added some pressure to her shoulders. “You’re not who I think you are…are you?”

What the hell? Who did he think she was? An easy lay, of course. She’d practically thrown her panties at him. She wasn’t, normally. But nothing was normal about tonight. “Is that some kind of trick question?”

He stared so hard it felt as if he were trying to see right through her. And from the look on his face, he did. At least, his expression changed in some immeasurable way. That challenge disappeared from his eyes, and he almost looked…like he was seeing her for the first time.

“I thought…” Her voice caught. “I misread you…this.” She shook her head and tried to step away. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I’m the one who misread you.” Very slowly, he skimmed his hand down the length of her arm, burning every centimeter he touched with promise.

She didn’t answer—couldn’t trust her shaky voice—but held his gaze, his face so close she could kiss him by moving one, maybe two, inches closer. And, good God, she wanted to.

She took a slow breath and closed her eyes, steadying herself. Before she opened them, he brushed her lips with the softest kiss. “I’m in 318,” he whispered before slipping away, disappearing into the lobby, and rounding the corner to the elevators.

She stood there for a good thirty seconds, trying to find her balance. There was nothing balanced about this, but…

She bought the condoms.

* * *

Holy shit, he was off his game. A spy? She was no more a spy than his grandmother. How could he have been so wrong?

She couldn’t fake that reaction to his question. Her eyes were pure and honest, and she wasn’t trailing him or trying to get information. She was a damned beautiful computer tech traveling to Florida, stuck in a hotel on a rainy night…as hungry for the pure release of sex as he was.

What a f*cking idiot you are, Mal Harris.

He stood over the sink, his hands under cold water, trying to wash away the frustration. He wanted her. Sure, it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, but it was more than that. He liked her.

And, damn it, she wanted him, based on every physical response he’d been trained to read in a woman. Hell, it didn’t take CIA schooling to see the way her eyes devoured him or hear the quick intake of breath when they not-so-accidentally touched.