His gaze, which looked oddly dazed-as if he’d just been smacked upside his head-wandered over her with a thoroughness that heated her from the inside out and made her want to squirm. He looked her over, all the way down to her bare toes, then back up. When their gazes finally met again, he said in a voice that sounded both annoyed and confused, “You’re not dressed.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. In spite of her own annoyance, a whisper of amusement worked its way through. “I’m hardly naked.”
Something that looked exactly like fire but surely couldn’t have been flared in his eyes. His eyes, which were a really, really nice dark blue. Like a cloudless sky at twilight.
“Besides,” she added, “it’s not as if I had a whole bunch of wardrobe choices, seeing as how you have my suitcase.” She wheeled his forward. “And I have yours.”
He looked down and she followed his gaze, and realized for the first time that he held her suitcase-something she surely would have noticed sooner if she hadn’t been sidetracked by the brain-cell-numbing, libido-wakening sight of his bare chest.
“I was just on my way to your room to return it,” he said.
She barely suppressed a wince. Great. That meant he’d opened it. And now probably thought she was sex-crazed and desperate.
You are sex-crazed and desperate, her brutally honest libido informed her.
Fine. At least desperate enough to contemplate a one-night stand with a fireman to be named later. But she certainly hadn’t wanted Jack Walker to know that.
Don’t sweat it, her libido continued slyly. Men view sex-starved as a good quality in a woman.
Before she could kick her tongue into gear to reply, her attention was diverted by the sound of dishes clinking together. She turned and saw a young man dressed in the resort’s dark green uniform approaching, wheeling a room service cart. His gaze flicked over Maddie in her robe, Jack in his unbuttoned shirt, and a knowing look gleamed in his eyes.
Great. Yet another male in the hotel who believed she was having sex. Quite annoying, especially since she wasn’t. Yet.
“Would you like me to set this up on the desk, Mr. Walker?” the young man asked. “Or perhaps on the balcony? It’s a nice, clear night.”
Both Maddie and Jack stepped aside so he could wheel the cart into Jack’s room. Something that smelled delicious and fresh off the grill wafted behind him and Maddie’s knees almost buckled from the incredible aroma. She glanced at the cart and her brows shot up at the sight of the four silver-covered dishes on the table. Either Jack was extremely hungry or he was expecting company. She knew which one she’d guess. Seemed he hadn’t cancelled his Friday night plans at all-he’d just relocated them. Why was she not surprised? Definitely time for her to scram before his date arrived.
Jack followed the room service guy into the room, and Maddie stepped inside, dragging Jack’s suitcase behind her, telling herself it was only to get out of the hallway-not an attempt to catch another sniff of those mouthwatering smells emanating from the cart. Jack reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet, a move that shifted his shirt open.
Oh. My. Maddie outwardly stilled at the glimpse of all that lovely muscled flesh, but inside… inside her heart rate sped up and her blood whooshed through her veins like bullets shooting from a gun barrel.
Jack tipped the young man, who thanked him then murmured good night to her as he exited the room. The door clicked closed behind him, leaving her alone with Jack. And their matching suitcases. And his fabulous-smelling room service. That had her mouth watering. It wasn’t him and his beautiful eyes or his gorgeous body. Nope. Not at all. Or the intense, smoldering, and unsettling way he was looking at her. As if he were a wolf and she had a pork chop hanging around her neck.
Jack stood rooted to the spot, staring at Maddie, at a complete loss for words-at least appropriate words. Certainly Who the hell are you and what did you do with Mad Dog? didn’t seem the right thing to say. Neither did Wow, you’re hot.
And hot she was. So hot that when he’d opened his door and found her standing there he hadn’t even recognized her at first. And who could blame him for not equating the prim, severely coiffed, modestly suited, bespectacled Mad Dog with this tousled haired, dark-eyed siren who’d clearly just stepped out of the shower and smelled good enough to nibble on?
He’d opened his door, thinking it was room service, and his first thought had been Wow. Whoever you are, you’re much better than a cheeseburger. Then she’d mentioned the suitcase and recognition had whacked him with the impact of a brick to the head. He’d been reeling ever since. How was it possible that just letting down her hair, removing her glasses, and getting her out of those prim suits could make such a difference? She was like a female Clark Kent-get rid of the nerdy spectacles, hair, and clothes and poof! Superwoman was born.
And what a super woman she was. Who would have guessed she had all that silky-looking curly hair? And that her eyes were so round and large? How had he never noticed that they were the color of smooth chocolate? Wrapped up in that fluffy robe, she looked like a present, just waiting to be opened. And since she’d clearly taken a shower and he had all her clothes… his gaze slipped to the sash tied around her waist. That meant she probably wasn’t wearing anything beneath that robe.
Damn. It was hot in here.
Her voice yanked him from his daydream and he looked away from her bathrobe to her face. She’d clearly said something to him but damned if he knew what.
He cleared his throat and said the only thing he could manage around his stupefaction. “Huh?”
“I said ‘Here’s your suitcase, may I please have mine?’ ” She parked his case next to the TV.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Jeez, he even sounded like he’d been clocked upside the head with a brick. He wheeled her suitcase toward her. When she took the handle, their fingers brushed, and if he’d been capable of it, he would have laughed at the sizzle that zoomed up his arm.
“Thanks,” she said. Her gaze flicked toward the room service table. “Big plans tonight, I see. Well, me, too. Enjoy your evening. See you tomorrow.”
Before he could say a word, she opened the door and practically ran across the hall, dragging her lingerie- and condom-filled, one-night-stand-ready suitcase behind her. He applied his eye to the peephole and watched her enter her room.
He turned and headed toward his very belated dinner. Big plans? A cheeseburger and the financial news update? He shrugged and snagged a French fry. Then frowned. She was the one who had big plans. Her and her glossy, curly hair and big eyes and lingerie. She was looking for a one-nighter and he didn’t doubt she’d find someone willing. A sensation that felt suspiciously like jealousy but couldn’t have been pricked him. He didn’t care what her plans were. For all he knew she had a guy in her room right now.
That’s one damn lucky guy, his inner voice informed him.
Good God, clearly he was suffering from hunger-induced insanity. Nothing his cheeseburger wouldn’t cure. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he uncovered his burger and took a huge bite. It was really good, but he found himself eating mechanically, staring at the TV without seeing what was flashing on the screen. All because he couldn’t stop wondering what Ms. I’m Too Sexy for My Bathrobe was doing across the hall.
Annoyed at himself, he clicked off the TV and finished his meal in silence. He’d just polished off the last of his brownie when he heard what sounded like a door opening across the hall. He strode to his own door and applied his eye to the peephole. The sex siren he’d previously referred to as Mad Dog stood in the hallway, slipping her key card into a tiny fire-engine red purse. That perfectly matched the five alarm dress clinging to a figure that needed to come with a warning sign: Dangerous Curves Ahead.