Time Out

“All wet?” she asked.

His eyes heated, and something deep inside her quivered. Damn, he still had the power. He smiled, and she narrowed her eyes, daring him to go there, but his momma hadn’t raised a fool. “Different,” he finally said. “You look different.”

Yes, she imagined she looked quite different than the wide variety of gorgeous women she’d seen hanging off his arm in all the magazines and blogs.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

She wanted to believe that was true, but realized with some horror that she’d actually leaned into him, drawn in by that stupid magnetic charisma. But she was nothing if not a pro at hiding embarrassment, and spreading her arms, she gave him a hug, as if that’d been her intention all along. Squeezing his big, warm, hard body close, she made sure to spread the suds and water from her shirt to his as much as possible. “It’s good to see you as well,” she said, her mouth against his ear, her lips brushing the lobe.

He went still at the contact, then instead of trying to pull free, merely folded her into his arms, trapping her against him. And damn if her body didn’t burst to life, as if all this time it’d been just waiting for him to come back.

“Yeah, you’re different,” he murmured, doing as she had, pressing his mouth to her ear, giving her a shiver. “The little kitten grew up and got claws.”

When she choked out a laugh, he closed his teeth over her earlobe.

She gasped, but then he soothed the ache with a quick touch of his tongue, yanking another shocked gasp from her. “You said you were looking for Rick,” she managed, shoving free. “He’s in his office.” And then, with as much dignity as she could manage, she walked off, sneakers squeaking, water dripping off her nose, and, she suspected, her shorts revealing a horrible, water-soaked induced wedgie.