ways, but now he wondered if maybe that was just from the touching.
The truth was, it had left him off balance, too, and though he'd done a decent job of not thinking about her today, now it all came rushing back. Her gentle sighs beneath him in the red room. The catch of her breath when he skimmed his fingers over that sinfully soft skin. That fast, he was fighting an erection. Peter, Paul, and Mary.
To his surprise, rather than try to duck him, she made her way directly to the bar.
Predictable? Not this woman, it seemed.
As she took the same stool as she had last night, he braced his arms on the counter below him and pierced her with his gaze. "Chardonnay?"
"Tequila sunrise."
Another surprise. "Hittin' the hard stuff tonight?"
"Just approaching the evening in a different way."
Yeah, he could see that. Her lace dress hugged her more snugly than the previous one, the skimpier fabric maximizing her cleavage and continuing to tighten his groin more with each passing second.
And like a bolt from the blue, his mind flashed to the dream he'd had last night. A woman in a pirogue, turning him wild with hunger. The driving feeling that he couldn't get enough of her, that he wanted to consume her. She hadn't been masked—in fact, she'd been as natural as the wild bayou itself—but he still had no more than a vague idea of her face. This hunger wasn't as overwhelming as that hunger, thank God. But it came close.
"What the hell you doin' back here?" he asked, squirting tequila in a glass.
Her voice came as even as his. "You won't help me, so I'll have to keep looking on my own."
He raised his gaze to hers, hoping no one would hear him say this to a "customer," but it needed to be said. "This is a stupid, dangerous, and I repeat, stupid way to doit."
Stephanie Grant shrugged her pretty shoulders, her hair falling across them tonight in golden waves. "I don't know how else to find her. And I have to find her."
"How the hell you gonna do that, chère?' He finished her drink off with grenadine and OJ, setting it on the bar. "You said nobody here knew her."
She spoke with far more confidence than on their first meeting. "There's a different crowd every night. Tonight I might get lucky."
Despite himself, he cast a wolfish expression. "Tried to help you get lucky last night, beb, but you turned me down."
Her cheeks flushed pink behind her heavy makeup, sending a thin shot of masculine satisfaction through him. He kept his gaze trained on hers, seeing the same memories as his floating in those pretty blue eyes. For a long moment, it seemed like nothing else in the world could possibly matter more than the heat they'd shared last night.
She finally glanced down to her drink, picking it up for a quick sip. "I... have to go," she said, starting to leave the stool.
He reached across the bar and grabbed her wrist. "You didn't hear a word I said last night, no? You can't be foolin' around with these people. You're not that good an actress."
She pulled in a deep breath. "I have to try." He released her wrist—no other choice. "You got more looks than brains, chère."
"You're an ass."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "But an ass who's tryin' to look out for you."
She narrowed her gaze on him. "You tried to seduce me last night. That's how you define looking out for me?"
"Didn't plan it," he said with a frank tilt of his head. "But I'm a red-blooded guy."
Stephanie Grant withdrew her troubled glare from him to scan the room bustling with suits and curves, and when she met his eyes again, raw resolve filled her expression. "The rest of these men are just as red-blooded, and if whatever is so tempting about me worked on you, maybe it'll work on them, too."
He let out a sigh. "That's exactly what you should be afraid of."
Chapter 5
Stephanie had decided to face him head-on. Besides, he'd been the only truly familiar face in the room. What she'd forgotten was how the mere sight of the man affected her. It was like
The truth was, it had left him off balance, too, and though he'd done a decent job of not thinking about her today, now it all came rushing back. Her gentle sighs beneath him in the red room. The catch of her breath when he skimmed his fingers over that sinfully soft skin. That fast, he was fighting an erection. Peter, Paul, and Mary.
To his surprise, rather than try to duck him, she made her way directly to the bar.
Predictable? Not this woman, it seemed.
As she took the same stool as she had last night, he braced his arms on the counter below him and pierced her with his gaze. "Chardonnay?"
"Tequila sunrise."
Another surprise. "Hittin' the hard stuff tonight?"
"Just approaching the evening in a different way."
Yeah, he could see that. Her lace dress hugged her more snugly than the previous one, the skimpier fabric maximizing her cleavage and continuing to tighten his groin more with each passing second.
And like a bolt from the blue, his mind flashed to the dream he'd had last night. A woman in a pirogue, turning him wild with hunger. The driving feeling that he couldn't get enough of her, that he wanted to consume her. She hadn't been masked—in fact, she'd been as natural as the wild bayou itself—but he still had no more than a vague idea of her face. This hunger wasn't as overwhelming as that hunger, thank God. But it came close.
"What the hell you doin' back here?" he asked, squirting tequila in a glass.
Her voice came as even as his. "You won't help me, so I'll have to keep looking on my own."
He raised his gaze to hers, hoping no one would hear him say this to a "customer," but it needed to be said. "This is a stupid, dangerous, and I repeat, stupid way to doit."
Stephanie Grant shrugged her pretty shoulders, her hair falling across them tonight in golden waves. "I don't know how else to find her. And I have to find her."
"How the hell you gonna do that, chère?' He finished her drink off with grenadine and OJ, setting it on the bar. "You said nobody here knew her."
She spoke with far more confidence than on their first meeting. "There's a different crowd every night. Tonight I might get lucky."
Despite himself, he cast a wolfish expression. "Tried to help you get lucky last night, beb, but you turned me down."
Her cheeks flushed pink behind her heavy makeup, sending a thin shot of masculine satisfaction through him. He kept his gaze trained on hers, seeing the same memories as his floating in those pretty blue eyes. For a long moment, it seemed like nothing else in the world could possibly matter more than the heat they'd shared last night.
She finally glanced down to her drink, picking it up for a quick sip. "I... have to go," she said, starting to leave the stool.
He reached across the bar and grabbed her wrist. "You didn't hear a word I said last night, no? You can't be foolin' around with these people. You're not that good an actress."
She pulled in a deep breath. "I have to try." He released her wrist—no other choice. "You got more looks than brains, chère."
"You're an ass."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "But an ass who's tryin' to look out for you."
She narrowed her gaze on him. "You tried to seduce me last night. That's how you define looking out for me?"
"Didn't plan it," he said with a frank tilt of his head. "But I'm a red-blooded guy."
Stephanie Grant withdrew her troubled glare from him to scan the room bustling with suits and curves, and when she met his eyes again, raw resolve filled her expression. "The rest of these men are just as red-blooded, and if whatever is so tempting about me worked on you, maybe it'll work on them, too."
He let out a sigh. "That's exactly what you should be afraid of."
Chapter 5
Stephanie had decided to face him head-on. Besides, he'd been the only truly familiar face in the room. What she'd forgotten was how the mere sight of the man affected her. It was like
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