she followed his gaze and saw how they were outlined by the humidity-limp material that stuck to them. Then he brought his gaze back up to her face and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “This is the Big Easy, dawlin’—you gotta learn to leave those pantyhose in the drawer.”
The man was a walking, talking menace towomen’s health. She’d watched him flirt everywhere they’d gone and had seen him collect phone numbers with the enthusiasm of a kid exchanging baseball cards. He’d treated her as if she were an expensive but brainless Afghan on the end of his leash, and had tried to embarrass her by pretending he was going to kiss her. She felt hot and sweaty, manipulated and misused.
Well, enough was enough.
Holding his gaze, Juliet toed off her shoes. She located the elasticized lace band at the top of her left stocking through the silk of her dress, and raised her leg slightly to work the band down to the point where it no longer hugged her thigh. Then she reached beneath her hem and, displacing her skirt as little as possible, rolled the nylon down her leg to midcalf. As it collapsed in a silken tangle around her ankle, she pointed her toes, grasped the fragile nylon over them, and peeled the stocking free.
As a striptease went, she was certain it was deathly dull, but it was something she’d never in her life performed in front of another human being, let alone in an open-windowed car in the middle of town in front of the King of Hormones. Still, it was worth every bit of her own discomfort when he stared at the filmy length of off-white hosiery dangling from her fingertips and croaked, “Christ! What the hell d’you think you’re doin’, Juliet?”
“Why, just following your excellent advice.” Emboldened, she repeated the routine with her right stocking and then pointed out gently, “The light is green, Beauregard.”
Swearing beneath his breath at the cars that began to honk behind them, he rammed the gear shift into first and left a patch of rubber behind as he roared off the line. Juliet folded her hosiery into a neat little pile and settled back in her seat, feeling much more tranquil. The rush of cooling air against her overheated legs didn’t hurt, either.
She should have known it wouldn’t last. A short while later Beau pulled beneath the hotel’s porte cochere and parked. When he rounded the hood to open her door, she gave him an empty social smile and extended her hand, hoping to forestall his habit of grasping her any old which way to haul her out of vehicles. “Well, it’s been most…educational,” she murmured as he actually assisted her with a modicum of gentleness. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I imagine, as there appears to be no avoiding…” He hadn’t bothered to move back, and her voice trailed away as she straightened from the car and found him standing much too close.
Sweat plastered his shirt to his chest and heat rolled off of him in waves. Juliet’s pulse began to drum as he put his hands flat on the car roof on either side of her, hemming her in. “Forget tomorrow, sugarplum; today’s not over yet. I’ve got five more hours on the clock.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sticking with you for five more hours.”
“But that’s preposterous!”
“Damn right it is—you know it and I know it. But you heard ‘Acting’ Captain Pfeffer: my job’s to guard your body. And I pride myself on my work.” He sniffed the air. Then he turned his headand sniffed again near her temple, like a bloodhound scenting prey. Suddenly he lowered his head, stopping just short of burying his nose in the contour of her neck. Juliet’s heart tried to bang its way out of her chest as Beau inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and she held herself very still. Slowly he raised his head again, an exhalation filtering out through his parted lips. “So this is what a rich girl smells like,” he murmured, and his eyelids were heavy as he studied her. “ Nice .”
Then he stepped back,
The man was a walking, talking menace towomen’s health. She’d watched him flirt everywhere they’d gone and had seen him collect phone numbers with the enthusiasm of a kid exchanging baseball cards. He’d treated her as if she were an expensive but brainless Afghan on the end of his leash, and had tried to embarrass her by pretending he was going to kiss her. She felt hot and sweaty, manipulated and misused.
Well, enough was enough.
Holding his gaze, Juliet toed off her shoes. She located the elasticized lace band at the top of her left stocking through the silk of her dress, and raised her leg slightly to work the band down to the point where it no longer hugged her thigh. Then she reached beneath her hem and, displacing her skirt as little as possible, rolled the nylon down her leg to midcalf. As it collapsed in a silken tangle around her ankle, she pointed her toes, grasped the fragile nylon over them, and peeled the stocking free.
As a striptease went, she was certain it was deathly dull, but it was something she’d never in her life performed in front of another human being, let alone in an open-windowed car in the middle of town in front of the King of Hormones. Still, it was worth every bit of her own discomfort when he stared at the filmy length of off-white hosiery dangling from her fingertips and croaked, “Christ! What the hell d’you think you’re doin’, Juliet?”
“Why, just following your excellent advice.” Emboldened, she repeated the routine with her right stocking and then pointed out gently, “The light is green, Beauregard.”
Swearing beneath his breath at the cars that began to honk behind them, he rammed the gear shift into first and left a patch of rubber behind as he roared off the line. Juliet folded her hosiery into a neat little pile and settled back in her seat, feeling much more tranquil. The rush of cooling air against her overheated legs didn’t hurt, either.
She should have known it wouldn’t last. A short while later Beau pulled beneath the hotel’s porte cochere and parked. When he rounded the hood to open her door, she gave him an empty social smile and extended her hand, hoping to forestall his habit of grasping her any old which way to haul her out of vehicles. “Well, it’s been most…educational,” she murmured as he actually assisted her with a modicum of gentleness. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I imagine, as there appears to be no avoiding…” He hadn’t bothered to move back, and her voice trailed away as she straightened from the car and found him standing much too close.
Sweat plastered his shirt to his chest and heat rolled off of him in waves. Juliet’s pulse began to drum as he put his hands flat on the car roof on either side of her, hemming her in. “Forget tomorrow, sugarplum; today’s not over yet. I’ve got five more hours on the clock.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sticking with you for five more hours.”
“But that’s preposterous!”
“Damn right it is—you know it and I know it. But you heard ‘Acting’ Captain Pfeffer: my job’s to guard your body. And I pride myself on my work.” He sniffed the air. Then he turned his headand sniffed again near her temple, like a bloodhound scenting prey. Suddenly he lowered his head, stopping just short of burying his nose in the contour of her neck. Juliet’s heart tried to bang its way out of her chest as Beau inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and she held herself very still. Slowly he raised his head again, an exhalation filtering out through his parted lips. “So this is what a rich girl smells like,” he murmured, and his eyelids were heavy as he studied her. “ Nice .”
Then he stepped back,
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