Pity returned to her face. She hesitated, and then she closed her eyes for a moment. The music changed and the downbeat of Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild" throbbed like a pulsating vein through the room. Samantha started swaying.
The swaying turned sinuous and she opened her eyes, her expression suddenly dreamy, almost orgasmic. Her tongue sneaked out to wet her lips and D. B. took an involuntary step back. She didn't even acknowledge him.
Instead, her hands went to the long row of buttons marching down the knee-length black dress she wore. They were fastened to display a modest amount of cleavage, but not for long. Her hips rotating in a slow, sensuous circle, she unbuttoned one after another after another, as if the vibrating, sultry music made her too hot for clothes.
D. B. couldn't look away. His mouth went dry, and, shameful or not, his shaft hardened. She peeled off the dress, letting it drop to completely reveal a set of her sexy underwear.
The underwear that John Shea had seen hanging on her clothesline. The underwear that barely covered the good parts of the most luscious body he'd ever seen in his life. The body that dozens, hundreds, thousands? of other men had seen over the years.
She kept right on dancing, as if he weren't there. As if he, like all the other men she'd ever taken her clothes off for, didn't matter.
Still swaying, she shut her eyes. Her hands fluttered to her thighs and then crawled slowly up, just like he wanted to do. Sweat broke out over D. B.'s skin. His breath wheezed in his chest. He felt rooted to the floor, the thudding drums of the song commanding his heartbeat, until she cupped her breasts in her own palms and offered them to someone neither she nor D. B. could see.
God, he was a coward. Because that was when he turned and ran.
* * *
From the upstairs back bedroom, Kitty heard the front door of the brothel bang open.
"Kitty Wilder!"
It was past closing time in Old Town and she was on her hands and knees, picking up something that looked and acted a lot like dandelion fuzz from the antique carpet. Though a service regularly cleaned the restored buildings, The Burning Rose wasn't on its schedule again until next week.
"Kitty Wilder!" It was Dylan's voice.
She sighed. "I'm up here," she called back, wishing she didn't have to. In the past few days, her resolve to keep a safe distance from him hadn't changed. She knew releasing her Wilder-ness with Dylan would be courting heartbreak.
Yet it was obvious his intent hadn't changed either. Every look, every word, every one of his breaths seduced her ... and he knew it. His dousing two days ago might have temporarily cooled him down, but she didn't fool herself it would last. How would she protect herself against his next sexual onslaught?
"Kitty." Looming in the doorway, a piece of paper in his hand, Dylan didn't look at her as if he had seduction on his mind. Strangulation, maybe.
He shook the paper in his fist. "Well, Kitty?" He was wearing his standard jeans, cowboy boots, and chambray work shirt. But the shirt was pulled free and unbuttoned to reveal a thin white undershirt like she'd seen on him before. "What the hell is this?"
Recognizing the paper, she sat back on her heels. "PR?"
"PR? You mean public relations?" He stepped into the room. "That's BS."
A few days ago Spenser had proposed the idea of slipping into the souvenir passports a half sheet detailing the pretend Sheriff Matthews's real FBI-agent exploits. The papers had come back from the printer yesterday and been handed out for the first time today. "Is there some factual error?" she asked innocently.
His brows slammed together. "Aren't the banners you have strung up across the streets enough?" He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand. "'Hometown Hero,'" he read from it, his voice filled with disgust.
Okay, Kitty did feel a bit guilty about passing out the Dylan Matthews fact sheet. But Spenser had been gung-ho about the whole notion and truly, there was merit to it. The whole point of Dylan's playing sheriff was to capitalize on his notoriety. Not to mention that she'd learned even more interesting details about him when composing the bio. "Did Honor Witherspoon's father really offer to buy you a security company in gratitude for saving his daughter?" she asked.