Two strong, warm arms came up to steady her as she squealed in surprise and twisted to meet the dark, intense gaze of the man she’d convinced herself she wasn’t attracted to.
“Well, if it isn’t the resident parasailer,” he said. “I see you warmed up nicely.”
4
BECCA LEAPT UP, but not before Kent’s body heat seeped into her skin, seeming to warm her from the inside out.
She stared at him, unable to think. Her mind had gone mushy, but it was okay because he stared right back at her.
“Those legs were made for dancing,” Dennis called out. “Let’s try that new swing club tonight, you and me.”
Locked into Kent’s gaze, she couldn’t move. He didn’t either.
“What do you say, Becca?” Dennis asked.
“She’s busy.”
Surprised at Kent’s words, Becca responded. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, I believe I did.”
So much heat in his gaze. Heat was good, she told herself, her heart in her throat.
“Don’t you like to dance?” Dennis asked her.
How to admit she’d never done it? That no one had ever wanted to take her before? “Yes,” she said, determined. Anything to get her mind off her gorgeous, unsuitable boss.
“Another adventure?” Kent asked for her ears only. “You know you could have been hurt last night.”
Was that rough, urgent tone all for her? Couldn’t be, much as she was starting to secretly wish otherwise. But she knew he wasn’t a one-woman man, not to mention she wasn’t his type. “But I wasn’t hurt.”
His jaw tightened. “Could I see you alone in my office?”
“You’re the boss,” she said flippantly while her poor, drumming, overexcited heart threatened to burst out of her chest. She passed Jed, who sent her a sympathetic smile. Dennis winked.
Kent’s office door shut behind him, the sound abnormally loud in the silent room. She stood facing his window, not quite daring to look at him. He stood directly behind her, she could feel him. Could feel his gaze on her hair, on her body, everywhere.
She knew this because everywhere he looked, she got hot. It was unladylike, and definitely not romantic, but she was going to start to perspire if he didn’t say something. “Nice view,” she said inanely, nodding her head toward the beautiful lake.
“What’s going on, Becca?”
“You tell me. Why were you at the lake last night?”
“I thought I was rescuing you from-” He shook his head. “Never mind.” A muscle in his jaw worked, and his eyes were so dark they looked black.
“You thought you were rescuing me from…” The lightbulb clicked on in her brain and she let out a disbelieving laugh. “You really thought I was going to a strip club, didn’t you?”
“Well you did mention it.”
“I mentioned Italy, too.”
“I knew you weren’t going to Italy on your salary.” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “You had the makeover. You look…amazing.”
“Same as last night.”
“Hardly. Not when you were a hundred feet in the air, waving your feet and screaming like a banshee, and certainly not afterward when you missed your landing and came out of the drink looking like a drowned rat.”
“Oh, yeah.” Curiously deflated, she straightened. “Well…I need to get to work.”
Kent followed her, then held the door shut when she would have opened it. “You never answered my question, Bec. What’s going on here?”
She put her arms out and twirled around, modeling herself. “I was looking for a change, you know that. Is there something wrong with it?”
His quick intake of breath gave him away. “No.” Betrayed by the thickness of his voice, he cleared his throat. “That dress…”
She had turned away from him, facing the door again, but now she peeked at him over her shoulder to find him staring at her behind.
“Are you…wearing anything under that?” He sounded hoarse.
And looked so irresistible. Why couldn’t they explore this attraction? What would it hurt? The need made her bold. “Thong panties,” she whispered, feeling the blush creep up her face, and deciding she very much liked the way the heat in his eyes sparked to a full flame.
“Thong-” He closed his eyes, groaned, a sound so serrated and sexy and thrillingly dangerous she shivered. “Where did yesterday’s Becca go? The one that liked her quiet life and baggy jeans?”
“She’s on vacation. Permanently.”
He lifted his confused gaze to meet hers. “I don’t think I get it. You were fine the way you were.”
“I told you,” she said gently, because clearly she had completely baffled the poor man. “Fine is no longer enough for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Again she turned to the door, reached for it. “I have work.”
At her back, his fingers settled against her arm, and that same bolt of attraction, the one she’d felt yesterday, staggered her. “There are safer ways to flex your wings,” he said very quietly, his hard chest against her spine and shoulders.
“Just some friendly concern?”
He went absolutely still, then dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have-” He shoved up his sleeves, revealing those arms she loved. They were lean, tightly muscled, allowing all sorts of wicked images to float across her mind.
When he caught her staring, he swore and backed up farther, bumping an elbow into a microscope on the credenza, which he had to be quick to catch as it went flying. With another oath, he set the expensive equipment down and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands away as if he didn’t trust them.
He looked edgy, dangerous. And so cute she wanted to hug him. “Kent-”
“You’ve got work.”
He was trying to resist her, with all his might, and it gave her a wonderful, delirious sense of feminine power that she’d never felt before. He was attracted, and for whatever reason, he didn’t want to face it. But he didn’t want to hurt her, either. “You’re sweet, Kent.”
“Sweet?” A bark of hard laughter escaped him. “If you could read my thoughts when I look at you in that dress, you’d rethink that word.”
Smiling would definitely ruin the moment. “Would it be so bad if I knew what you were thinking?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because…dammit, just because!”
“There’s a good reason.”
“This is not going to happen.”
“What isn’t going to happen?” she asked innocently and he rubbed his temples and groaned.
“I mean it,” he told her. “Not happening.”
Her smile escaped then. “Okay, but-”
“No! No buts! God-” he swiped a hand over his face. “Are you going to look this way every day?
“Yep.”
He looked miserable. “This isn’t real. You do not suddenly look this…hot.”
Her smile widened and he pointed. “Stop that, stop that right now.”
“I’m just looking at you.”
“Yeah, you’re just looking at me. Like you want to eat me for breakfast. Now knock it off.” When she laughed, he glared at her. “I mean it. Be good.”
She shook her head and walked to him. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t feel anything when you look at me. Other than…friendship.”
He flattened himself to the door. “That’s right. That’s all I feel.”
On her tiptoes now, because he was very tall, she touched his rock hard jaw. “If you’re sure,” she whispered.
He groaned again, and beneath the hand she’d rested on his chest, she felt his every muscle tense. “And friends don’t…don’t touch,” he grated out.
The intercom buzzed, startling them both, and Cookie’s voice filled the air from the intercom. “Becca? Was that you that came through here a minute ago?”