Читать книгу Baring It All - Sandra Chastain - Страница 10

LORD SIN CAME TO HER in the night. One minute there was only sweet sleep. The next, he slid beneath the covers and covered her mouth with his kisses, and her body with his own, his hand sliding beneath her and holding her close. Sunny groaned. Even in the dream, and she knew it was a dream, she recognized him, as if she’d been waiting. Her pulse raced. Her thighs opened, welcoming him, but he held back. He simply looked down at her, whispering in that incredibly sexy voice. She didn’t know what he was saying, she only knew that he’d come in the darkest hour as he’d promised.

Had she wished him there? She didn’t know. His lips touched hers once more, tracing the edges then moving over them, claiming them masterfully. She moaned again and pulled him closer, her fingers lacing themselves behind his head and holding him. She couldn’t see his eyes but she wanted to. Were they the kind of clear hot blue that pressed the heat of the sun against white beaches, the color of clear tropical water that made her think of hot sex?

Or were they Malone’s midnight-black, flashing with tempered amusement and the promise of inner fire? Were the hands touching her part of his planned seduction? Could she refuse?

“Who are you?” she finally managed to whisper.

“Does it matter?” A tendril of hair tickled her cheek as he shifted his position to plant little kisses down her neck and over her breast. She felt her nipple harden as he took it in his mouth.

“I’m here for you now,” he whispered. “All you had to do was ask.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Yes. You did.” He moved beneath her T-shirt and caressed her breast. “You need me, Sunny. You don’t have to be alone.” And for a moment the tenderness in his voice overwhelmed her.

How could he know about loneliness, about how abandoned she’d felt at twelve when her mother died, then later when her father went to prison? She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Desperately, she pressed herself against him, felt his hardness, the hardness he was denying her. “Please, Lord Sin.”

“Not yet,” he whispered. “But soon.” He raised himself up. She tensed and waited, her body throbbing with desire. Then, like a thief in the night, he was gone.

Her eyes flew open. She was alone in her own bed, with the sunlight pouring through her window and drenching her with winter warmth. The experience had all been an erotic dream. One that left her incredibly aroused.

Still shaken, she rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the clock radio on the table beside her bed. Eight o’clock. She forced herself to sit up, stumbled to the shower and turned on the hot water. Last night she’d been completely drained after her encounter with Lord Sin. Then Ryan Malone had called, stirring her unsettled emotions even further. No wonder she’d had such an erotic dream. It could have happened to anyone, she told herself. Except it had never before happened to her.

If Sunny Clary were forced to answer in a court of law, she couldn’t have said with certainty who her night visitor was. Lord Sin or Ryan Malone or some fantasy lover she’d created in her mind. She just knew she had to take control of her emotions. But first, she had to get over this incredible desire. Ted Fields had given her the chance of a lifetime, but she’d have to earn her acceptance, establish her credibility in Atlanta if she intended to become an investigative reporter. And being late wouldn’t make a good impression. Stripping off her T-shirt, she turned the hot water to cold and stepped in. This morning she understood the benefit of a cold shower.

Minutes later her body was an icicle and she was furious with herself for letting a man, any man, bring her to such a state. She was no inexperienced virgin. Not that she was wanton. She’d thought she was in love at seventeen, talked herself into being in love at twenty-two and had a few unsatisfactory encounters in between. But since her last budding relationship ended, she’d sworn to put her career first—even if there were times she wished there were someone to share it with. But not like this—not through a relationship with a phantom lover.

Mass hypnosis, that’s what it was. Lord Sin’s voice through that microphone had some kind of lingering subliminal effect on her. She didn’t know how it worked but that had to be the answer. Then Ryan Malone, with his bad-boy charm, continued the seduction with his absurd claim that he wanted her in his bed. He’d recognized and used her determination to find Lord Sin to try and seduce her. That shouldn’t have been a surprise; she knew he liked women. But why her? In spite of the way she’d presented herself last night, she wasn’t that kind of woman. She was a professional, even if she was a small-town girl.

And today she had to make him understand that.

Thirty minutes later, with a generous helping of gel, she’d forced her unruly hair into a severe twist, applied a light smattering of makeup and donned sensible undergarments, a serious black suit, hose and heels. If there was a wake or a funeral to cover, she was Ted’s girl. At the last minute, remembering that they were going to a birthday party, she added a hummingbird pin to her lapel. On her way to the car, the red and green stones in its wings caught the sunlight and glittered like fire. Bad idea, Sunny. Serious, dedicated, professional, that’s what you are today. No froufrous. Nothing to suggest gaiety today. She started to unfasten the pin then changed her mind. The party and Ryan Malone were six hours away.

At a nearby department store, she found simple cotton sheets. They didn’t fit her personality but they would serve the purpose of proving to herself and to Ryan Malone, should the situation ever arrive, that she wasn’t what he imagined her to be. A surprising chunk of her first paycheck later and she was headed for the TV station, only a few minutes late. The receptionist gave her a serious once-over. “Ah, phooey,” she said with mock regret, “you’re not wearing the green dress.”

“Sorry,” Sunny said with a forced smile. “Cinderella has turned back into a scullery maid.”

“Ah, but for one night, she was Cinderella,” the receptionist said wistfully. “And, don’t tell Teddy, but the switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree last night with viewers wanting to know who the redhead was.”