Her heart was too vulnerable, her emotions too raw. She’d had the adventure of a lifetime during a thirty-minute lunch break-and nothing would ever be the same.
She’d found-if not love-connection. Something she’d never known with a man before. But her lover didn’t exist.
Now that she knew how that “connection” felt, she wanted to find it again-with someone. But at the moment, it hurt too much to look at the man whose face would forever be etched on her heart.
“Ahem, Kili,” Wilson’s voice broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the purpose for the meeting. The management team had all taken their seats and waited with pencils poised above pristine white pads of paper.
She gave him a nod and cleared her throat before sweeping her gaze over the men assembled to hear how she was going to increase the number of female viewers who tuned in to watch the Centurion Gladiators’ matches.
But her gaze snagged on Ice Man who remained standing beside the snack table, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze boring into hers-wearing the exact same expression as her “Gunn.”
Swallowing, she tried to remember what she’d scripted for herself to say, but mortification settled around her like a heavy blanket of embarrassment when she couldn’t remember a word she’d rehearsed.
She dropped her gaze to her papers, realizing she couldn’t go with the pitch she’d prepared if she couldn’t remember it.
She drew a deep breath and decided to go with her gut. “Ever wondered what makes a woman hot? She’ll tell her girlfriend it’s an animal-a monosyllabic caveman in a loincloth-all bulging pecs, thick neck, and rippling abs. That man will certainly catch her eye-make her pause and stare. But how does he keep her interest?” She paused to swallow and wet her dry mouth.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Ice Man’s deep voice came from the sideboard.
Finally, she was forced to meet his gaze. Her heart skipped a beat at the smoldering warmth she found there. “I am inviting…your answer,” she said carefully, pushing the words past stiffened lips.
“Gunnar Thorsson is the team’s elected rep,” her boss added. “He’s got final approval on the spot. He has a dead-on instinct for what people want.”
Gunnar? Her eyes opened wide.
His gaze didn’t waver. “A woman likes the danger and strength the warrior embodies, but she really wants more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’-or a primal grunt. She wants the warrior to unstop a clogged sink, or teach a child to play ball…and to tell her roughly, but eloquently, how beautiful she is to him.” The last seemed like a caress.
Christ, it couldn’t be him. Her Gunn. But he was giving her back her words…and more.
Had what happened in the cave been real, or at the very least, mutual? And who would she kill later-Willa or The Lunch Break staff for hooking them up? If it really was him, he’d remember every stupid thing she’d said.
Her throat tightened around a lump at the back of her throat. It couldn’t be true. She was just projecting her desires onto him.
Her eyes filled. She shook her head as she stared at him, hearing the murmured questions from the management team as she tried and failed to pull herself together.
Ice Man’s arms dropped to his sides and he stepped forward.
Alarm filled her. Christ, don’t let him get too close or I’ll fall apart!
But he opened his arms and enfolded her next to his rock-solid chest. His hands caressed her, soothing up and down her back.
She inhaled, dragging in his now familiar scent-not the wood smoke part, but the manly musky part. She clutched the front of his jersey and tried to make sense of her reactions and figure out a way to run from the room before she made an even bigger fool of herself.
His hand cupped the back of her head, tugging on her hair to tilt back her face. His gaze held hers for a long, intense moment, and she wished like hell she understood what it meant.
Then his lips slammed down on hers in a searing, mind-blowing kiss.
His lips ate hers, molding, sucking, drawing her back into a familiar firestorm of searing emotions and lust. Finally, his tongue thrust inside her mouth to stroke hers, and she was helpless to resist. She tangled her tongue with his and moaned.
Christ, the man could kiss!
“Oh, I see you already know Gunnar,” Wilson said from somewhere behind Ice Man, an edge of dismay in his voice. “He has an excellent track record, actually, for gauging what consumers want. Kili?”
She lifted her hand, one finger extended, telling him to wait just a second. Her heart pounded as she recognized the sound rumbling from the chest pressed to hers.
Ice Man drew back and settled his forehead against hers, his breath hitching every bit as raggedly as hers. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna be all right,” he rasped.
“But, I don’t understand,” she said. He kissed like Gunn, growled like Gunn…Her heart accepted him as Gunn.
Ice Man snorted and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he bent to whisper in her ear, “Ugh!”
DELILAH DEVLIN has lived in Saudi Arabia, Germany, and Ireland, but calls Texas home for now. Always a risk taker, she lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency. Creating alter egos for herself in the pages of her books enables her to live new adventures-and chronicle a few of her own (you get to guess which!).
The Hottest One-Night Stand by Lisa Renee Jones
To Diego,
who believes in dreams coming true.
This story wouldn’t have been possible
without your support and influence in too many ways to detail.
Thank you.
One
He made her think of sex.
Hot, wet, blow your mind kind of sex. The kind she hadn’t had in far too long. Correction. Ever. She had never, ever had the kind of sex this man made her want.
Suddenly, the dingy little roadside bar she had stopped at because her cell phone had no signal seemed a darn good decision. It offered a damn delicious distraction from her long hours on the highway.
Standing at the bar, dressed in all black, dark hair touching his broad shoulders, he looked like a wild, exotic form of Zorro. He was the kind of man that made women pant. Even her, conservative little Jessica Montgomery, was ready to jump his bones.
She leaned against the railing behind her, forgetting the irritation over the bartender ignoring her. Her eyes dropped to his truly stellar ass just as he turned and looked at her. There wasn’t time to avert her gaze, nor did she really see the point. They were in the middle of nowhere Texas, two strangers, likely to never see each other again.
She was checking out his ass and didn’t plan to hide it.
What she didn’t anticipate was the intensity of his gaze. Dark eyes assessed her, taking her in from head to toe. He inspected her with such completeness, she felt exposed on some carnal level. Yet, oddly, she was at ease with the feeling.
She couldn’t help but notice the contrast in their appearances. He was dark, where she was light. His hair was black, as were his eyes, and his skin was a perfect light chocolate brown. She was fair, with hair the blondest of blond, porcelain skin, and eyes the palest of blues. Something about their differences made her feel a little thrill inside. The thought of her fair skin contrasting against his dark, her blond hair draped against his black, was enticing.
She watched him watching her. Those eyes of his, those deep, dark eyes, only served to enhance his quintessential sex appeal.