Читать книгу Two to Tangle - Leslie Kelly - Страница 9

TRENT HID A SMILE AS A variety of expressions crossed his lovely companion’s face when he suggested a walk on the beach. He knew what she was thinking—exactly the same thing he was thinking. We’re strangers. This is too soon. What is happening here and why does it feel so right?

Though he sensed he could stand up and lead her out of the crowded bar without another word, he didn’t want to push her. “Your choice. We can stay here if you like.”

“Hmm,” she said, tapping the tip of her index finger on her cheek in obviously feigned indecision. “Stay here in a hot, loud, crowded bar with a bunch of other women who’ve been ogling you for an hour? Or go out onto a romantic, moonlit beach for a refreshing, private walk. Decisions, decisions. You don’t make it easy on a girl.”

He shrugged. “The story of my life. Making the tough choices.” He leaned closer. “Besides, I haven’t noticed any other women. I have noticed the three muscle-bound college boys at the bar who keep turning around to stare at your legs each time you shift in your seat.”

Her eyes widened. She immediately turned to see. “You’re sure they were looking at me? I mean, there are a lot of women in here who aren’t sitting with other men.”

“None of whom has legs like yours.”

“Oh wait, I’ve got it,” she said, ignoring his compliment. “You’re the one they’re interested in. They’re gay. That’d explain why they haven’t hooked up with one of these on-the-prowl females.”

He chuckled. “Why is it so hard for you to believe you’re on the mind of every single male in this room?”

An adorably disconcerted blush spread across her cheeks. She really didn’t realize her own appeal. She had no idea how amazing she was. How her soft laughter could seduce a man. The way the brightness in her eyes brought energy to a lifeless room. The way every male with even a drop of testosterone in his blood saw those legs of hers and imagined them wrapped around him. Including him. Trent gulped down the last of his water.

She finally answered his question. “Maybe because I’m used to being the responsible, pretty-in-a-quiet-way, funny one who doesn’t usually incite lustful males to riot in the streets—or in the bars.” She smiled, glancing around. “You’re sure it was me they were interested in?”

“Oh, I’m sure. Did you not notice the staring contest I got into with the one in the Florida Gators shirt a half hour ago?”

Deadpan, she asked, “Oh, you’re an FSU Seminoles fan?”

He smiled. “No, NFL all the way—I’m not much into college sports. But I couldn’t let that guy get away with drooling all over you like that. I guess I’m just one of those caveman guys who feels compelled to mark his territory.”

She raised a brow. “Your territory?”

“I didn’t mean that in the primal sense.”

“Thank goodness. I think I’ve heard about how some male animals mark their territory in the jungle. We haven’t even kissed yet, so I think it’s a little early to start talking about that kinky stuff.”

Instantly knowing what she meant, he threw back his head and laughed. The jocks at the bar turned to look. She’s gorgeous, she’s bright, and she’s funny as hell. Tough luck, boys.

“So you ready to get out of here?”

She stood. “More than ready.”

As he took her arm and led her out of the bar, Trent wondered what good deed he’d done recently to account for his incredible fortune. This woman, this stranger, was a dream come true. Not only funny, charming and self-deprecating, she was also beautiful and earthy. Honest and completely unpretentious. And sexy enough to make him shake in anticipation.

Claudia was his fantasy woman come to life.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the slight wobble in her step. They’d just exited a back door of the resort, on the way to the pool and beach area.

“I don’t do big girl shoes very well,” she admitted. She sighed, giving her own feet a disgruntled stare. “High heels had to have been invented by a man. They’re sheer torture.”

Glancing down at the strappy, spiked-heel sandals beneath slim, black nylon-encased legs, Trent could only murmur, “Strap me to the rack.”

Her giggle told him she’d heard.

“Yep. Definitely a male invention,” she continued. “Like leg wax, chastity belts and brassieres.”

“Seems like man was working against himself with those…except, of course, the leg wax.”

“There are plenty of locations in the world where women don’t feel the need to shave or wax their legs,” she countered.

“Hopefully not at the Dolphin Island Resort and Country Club.” Trent met her stare evenly, then let a teasing smile spread across his lips so she caught his meaning.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she retorted softly. Then, even softer, as if she was muttering to herself, he heard her say, “And wouldn’t I just love to show you.”

Knowing the alcohol might have gone a bit to her head, Trent doubted she even knew he’d heard. He grinned but turned away so she wouldn’t see.

Well, yeah, he’d like to know. And he planned to find out. Particularly since the image of those long, tanned legs had been taunting him since the afternoon when he’d seen her in her bathing suit.

As they passed the pool and approached the wooden stairs leading down to the private, moonlit beach, Trent stopped. Since he was holding her by the arm, she halted, too. She stared at him curiously. Without explaining, Trent dropped to a crouch beside her. He reached for the straps of her shoes, unbuckling one, then the other. Taking one of her hands, he placed it on his own shoulder so she could balance herself. He noticed the way her fingers tightened, her skin burning through the thin material of his shirt. Feeling the touch throughout his entire body, Trent had to force himself to focus on the task at hand.

Impossible. He couldn’t focus on anything but her.

Not only did her soft fingers brand his shoulder, but now his face was mere inches from her silky thighs. His hands trembled as he tugged off each shoe. He was completely unable to resist gently stroking one ankle, stalling for time while he tried to control his body’s response to her nearness. Her loveliness. And the sweet, elemental scent of her body.

Controlling the tides would likely have been easier.

“Better?” he asked as he finally rose to his feet.

She smiled and almost cooed her relief as she curled her toes on the cool surface of the pool deck. “Much.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to walk in the sand in these, anyway,” he said, hearing the thickness of his voice. He struggled against the mental fantasy of sliding his hand up the sweet, vulnerable curve of her foot, curling around her calf, then moving higher. Over her knee. Between her thighs. Moving his mouth closer, to explore her softness and that intoxicating feminine scent filling his brain.

“You okay?” she asked when he fell silent.

He swallowed, hard, and nodded. “Fine. Just feeling stupid for not thinking beyond being alone with you on the beach. You’re not exactly dressed for it. Your heels would have sunk three inches deep with every step.”

Now, without the heels, he noticed how petite she was. The top of her head came to his shoulder, and she tilted her head back to meet his eyes with her amazingly blue ones.

“You’d have rescued me, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, you wouldn’t have left me there, stranded, with my heels stuck tight in the sand all night, right? And me doing my impression of a beach umbrella?”

He grinned as a wicked thought crossed his mind. Beach umbrella? I’d have no problem being underneath you on a beach.

She continued. “I don’t suppose it’s going to be too comfortable walking across sand in these.”

Trent followed her glance down to her legs, still covered by a pair of silky-soft black hose. No way was he going to offer to help take those off. The next time he touched her legs, it would be to explore each inch of them with his hands, fingers and mouth. He hoped it would be in the not-too-distant future. But not here, a few feet away from a clear-glass hotel door, where anyone walking by could see them.

Before he could even offer to walk her back inside so she could change, he saw her reach under the bottom hem of her short skirt and start tugging.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go back inside to change.”

She paused.

“But this works too.”

She went back to tugging.

Trent raised an eyebrow, watching with interest as the skirt rose higher and higher while she pulled. His anticipation rose right along with her hem. As did his heart rate. By the time she pulled the waistband free and was able to begin maneuvering the nylons down her legs, he caught a glimpse of something silky and red at the V of her thighs. Lord have mercy was the only thought he could manage in those infinitesimal seconds before she pushed the skirt back down, along with the nylons.