Worth the Challenge by Karen Erickson Page A

And she was drunk, in pain and adorable.
    In other words, she was terribly hard to resist.
    “Be strong,” he muttered under his breath as he climbed into the car.
    “Did you say something?”
    Rhett met her gaze. Her brows drawn, her mouth pursed, she looked perplexed. Cute.
    “Wasn’t me.” He smiled grimly and yanked the door shut. “Warwick Hotel,” he told the driver who nodded in reply and pulled out into traffic.
    “Thank you for not giving me a bunch of grief,” she said, her voice solemn. “And for getting the taxi so quickly.”
    “You’re welcome.” He kept his response short, tried his best not to look in her direction. He breathed in her sweet, delicate scent, unable to avoid it and he watched in disbelief as she bent her legs toward him, her knee brushing against his.
    Christ. She couldn’t touch him, even an innocent gesture like that was bad. He drank too much wine and was feeling way too inclined to act on all of the impulsive urges that were pinging inside of him.
    He’d always done it before, giving in when he shouldn’t have. It was what got him into so much trouble. Only in the last year had he tried his best to straighten up and fly right.
    Gabriella Durand inspired him to give it all up, toss it aside and damn the consequences.
    “What time did you want to meet tomorrow?”
    “What?” Jerking his head up, he looked at her. Big mistake.
    She smiled prettily and his heart tripped. “The meeting you mentioned earlier with your brothers. What time would you like me to come?”
    He’d like her to come anytime—again and again, if she was up for it. Could only imagine what it might take to make her come too…
    “I’ll have my assistant call you first thing in the morning with a time. Hope that works for you,” he gritted out, pissed at himself. Last thing he needed to do was imagine Gabriella in his arms, his mouth fused with hers, his fingers stroking between her legs, making good on his imagined promise.
    Clearly he was trying to give himself a heart attack.
    “That’s fine.” She nodded, catching her plump lower lip with her teeth.  
    He swallowed a groan, growing weaker with each second that passed. The wine was getting to him. It was the only explanation. “You gotta stop doing that,” he protested hoarsely.
    She frowned, a little crease appearing between her brows. “Doing what?” Clearly she was confused.
    And clearly, he sounded like a damn fool. “Never mind.”
    “Are you all right?” The concern in her voice was real. The way she reached out and touched his knee was also real. Terrifyingly, exhilaratingly real. “You’re acting kind of funny.”
    He wanted to burst. Had he ever been this tempted? Had he ever denied himself like this before?
    Nope. Didn’t think so.
    “I’m fine.” He nodded, as if he could convince himself. “Really.”
    She squeezed his knee in…sympathy? Yeah, sympathy, that’s what it was. Surely it couldn’t be anything else. “Maybe that walk wore you out after all.”
    Oh no, she wore him out. Or more like, she riled him up. He couldn’t get over this all-encompassing need that consumed him. That made him want to revert to his old ways and do whatever the hell he wanted, damn the consequences.
    “Though you look like you’re in good shape,” she murmured, her grip loosening on his knee and— holy hell —she slid her hand up his thigh. “I don’t see how a little walk could leave you looking so overexerted.”
    Was she making a move on him? No freaking way. “It wasn’t the walk.”
    Her hand paused mid-thigh. “It wasn’t?”
    Damn. Her touch burned through the fabric of his jeans, searing his skin. She’d scooted closer to him somehow, her leg pressed against his and he knew he was in big trouble.
    Wrapping his fingers around her slender wrist, he stopped her from going any further. “You’re venturing into dangerous territory,” he warned in his sternest, gruffest voice.
    She parted her lips, darted out her