Relentless Seduction by Jillian Burns

make her worries go away. Slumped in the seat of his Barracuda, she stared out the window biting her thumbnail, looking so lost and alone. He could relate to that.
    It wasn’t until he ushered her into his apartment above the bar that he thought about the sleeping arrangements. It was almost dawn. He was dog-tired.
    Claire stood in the middle of his living-slash-dining-slash-bedroom, staring at the largest piece of furniture in his one room efficiency: his bed.
    In this one thing, he’d indulged himself. It was a custom-made four-poster mahogany, with a pillow-top mattress and Egyptian thousand-thread-count sheets. He’d foolishly thought it might help his insomnia.
    But sleep was overrated.
    His new roommate had thrown on that disgusting crocheted poncho over the revealing black dress. She was right; it didn’t go with her so-called disguise. Her hair had been flattened by the spiky wig and the black makeup she’d applied around her eyes had smeared.
    How the hell could he find her attractive right now?
    But his out of control mind kept seeing her naked in his bed, reliving the freakin’ hot kiss they’d shared in the bar, and his body thought it was go time. The sleep-deprivation must be getting to him.
    Not only was Dr. Claire Brooks injured and distraught, she was also not his type. Tourist girls were more his style. Young, pretty, looking for a fun fling and, most importantly, gone by the end of the week.
    Although, Claire would more than likely be gone by the end of the week, too. The cops would probably find Shadow soon—if Rafe didn’t find him first—and one way or the other, Claire would go back to Boston.
    Forget it, Moreau. Remember, she’s trouble in more ways than you want to even think about.
    He strode to the tiny bathroom, flipped on the light. “Shower’s here.” He gestured to the mini-fridge. “I don’t have much food, but there’s some baguettes and coffee.” He waited a moment, to see if she had any questions, but she just stood there.
    He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Get some sleep. I’ve got paperwork to finish.” He headed for the inside stairway that led to the bar.
    “Do you have to go?”
    He froze. Her voice sounded so timid, so...needy. Flashes of their brief tongue tangle in The Pit stirred his libido. Her breasts pressed to his chest. His cock rose.
    He turned back and met her gaze. “I need sleep and there’s a couch downstairs.”
    “There’s enough room in the bed for both of us to sleep.”
    His hands curled into fists. “ Cher, if the both of us get in that bed we won’t be sleeping.”
    Her eyes widened behind her glasses. She swallowed. “I know.”
    She sounded as if she was agreeing to be guillotined. He folded his arms across his chest. “Try to contain your excitement.”
    “I’m tired. And...nervous.” She grabbed the hem of the poncho, lifted it over her head and tossed it on the floor. “I don’t usually have one-night stands.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Then why start now? Do I seem like a guy who needs your charity?”
    She reached behind her and began unzipping the black dress, and at the same time toed off her short boots. “No. It’s what I want.” She closed the distance between them as she slipped her arms out of the sleeves and let the dress fall to the floor in a puddle around her feet.
    Rafe’s mouth went dry. Her only covering was a black lacy bra and matching boyshort panties. He looked his fill, from her long shapely legs, up her smooth creamy thighs, to her flat stomach, and especially the deep cleavage created by the bra. She wasn’t petite, her hips were solid, and even in her bare feet she stood almost as tall as him.
    As if she regretted undressing, her arms crisscrossed her body, uselessly trying to cover herself.
    He gently moved them to her sides. “Maybe I do need this, after all.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, nibbling and tasting. Lust had taken control at The Pit because he’d been