Maid for the Billionaire(4)

Her heart really shouldn't be pounding in her chest just because the man was preparing to restrain her if she attacked him with deadly, brass force. It wasn't like she'd never been near a man before, but even her prior intimate relationships had been cautious endeavors. No man had ever brought to mind the words carnal abandon like this one did. When he looked at her, no one and nothing else existed.

―Before you clock me, would you like to see my license?‖ he asked while his thumb traced the edge of her collar bone rhythmically. Hypnotically. ―Would you?‖ he prompted in response to her silence.

―Yes,‖ she said breathlessly, unable to concentrate on anything beyond the way her body was responding to his touch. Her skin burned beneath his light caress. Her stomach quivered with an anticipation she had previously only read about. Yes, to whatever you’re asking.

Her state of arousal was not lost on the man towering above her and the answering pleasure in his eyes shook her out of her daze. She stepped back, away from his touch and gave herself a mental shake. This kind of passion had no place in the life she‘d built for herself. ―I mean no.

No, I believe you. You were right. I should go. I can finish everything tomorrow.‖

His lids lowered slightly, making his expression unreadable.

―Do you know what I'm thinking?‖ he asked.

Unless he was also imagining the two of them naked, rolling around on the thick area rug in the living room, she was pretty much stumped. ―No,‖ she croaked.

―I'm starving and I hate to eat alone. I'd be grateful if you joined me for a meal.‖

That wouldn't be wise. There were at least a hundred, maybe a thousand, reasons why she should leave now before she made a fool out of herself. Yet, she was tempted.

It was more than the athletic span of his shoulders, more than the strong line of his jaw. She couldn‘t even blame the sadness in his eyes, because the exhausted man of earlier had been replaced by a virile male who knew exactly how to get what he wanted – and right now he wanted her.

Every sensible cell in her body urged her to turn tail and run, but wasn‘t that what she always did when life offered her something she considered too good to be true? She chose safety and certainty over less reliable dreams and desires.

Just this once she wanted to sample what she‘d been missing. Just this once she wouldn‘t run.

Well, not immediately, anyway.

She‘d share a meal with the near god before her, enjoy the way he made her skin tingle with just a look, and leave before anything happened. He wouldn‘t have to eat alone and she could have an hour or so of pretending any of this was real.

―Any problems with Chinese?‖ she asked as she mentally reviewed the local places she knew would deliver.

The question seemed to jolt him. ―Chinese what?‖

―Food?‖ she added helpfully.

―Oh,‖ he visibly relaxed, ―takeout.‖

―Yes, there is a good place right around the corner that I know delivers -- unless you‘d like me to try to find something else.‖

―No.‖ He shook his head at some private joke. ―Sorry, for a minute there I forgot.‖ Hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels, still looking highly amused by his thoughts.

―Forgot what?‖ she couldn‘t help but ask.

With unexpected tenderness, he slid one of her wayward curls behind her ear. ―That you‘re exactly what I need.‖ Before she could catch her breath, he stepped back and handed her far too much money, no matter what she ordered. ―Order some food while I take a shower.‖ His knock

?em dead sex appeal returned as he chuckled and sauntered away, tossing over his shoulder,

―I‘ve heard I need one.‖

Abby fanned her red face with the bills as she watched him climb the stairs two at a time.

Not quite shaking herself free of the mental image of Mr. Armani naked beneath the steamy spray of the shower, Abby went in search of her purse and cell phone.

A man that sexy is just trouble.

Luckily it was highly unlikely that she would ever see him again after today. They would share one quick meal and then she‘d head back to Lill and reality.

Back to the quiet, predictable life she‘d built for herself.

That thought held less appeal than usual.


Chapter Three

The hot shower he'd taken in a bathroom that could easily have fit into one of the closets at any number of his other homes, had been invigorating and brief. As he toweled dry, he fought off teenage-like excitement. His blood surged each time he wondered what his housekeeper was doing...and that was about every ten seconds or so.

She wasn't the magazine cover type; he groaned as he remembered that he'd told her as much. Real smooth. He could attribute some of his uncouthness to fatigue, but he suspected that it had more to do with the way she filled out her jeans.

She was lushly rounded in the places women were meant to be rounded. Her light complexion, devoid of makeup, was sprinkled with freckles and those simple brown curls, which had escaped her attempt to bind them back, added to the guilelessness of her image. Nothing about her should have floored him, but when she'd pinned him down with those dark amber eyes, he'd almost stopped breathing.

She looked innocent and wholesome, exactly the kind of woman he normally avoided. Not too innocent, though, if the fire that leapt into her eyes at his approach was any indication.

Would she stay the night or leave while he was freshening up? The uncertainty was a novel and somewhat unpleasant experience for him. He ran an impatient comb through his hair, threw on khaki slacks, a white cotton button down shirt, and forced himself to walk calmly rather than bolt back downstairs to check if she was still there.