waiting for her to return, cursing the turn of events that wouldn’t permit him to move about without the aid of the wheelchair.
He’d made love to women, yet none had turned him on as Ciara Dennison had done with her impromptu lap dance. And he was certain she was as shocked by the act as he’d been. Not only had it been spontaneous, but the result had been explosive. He’d relived everything that had occurred when sitting on the chair in the shower, and his body had betrayed him for the second time that day.
Fortunately for him, Ciara hadn’t been there to hear the curses when he struggled not to take care of his own sexual needs. Once he’d adjusted the water temperature to ice-cold and finished his rant, he was back in control.
“I wasn’t joking. I don’t remember giving you a spending limit, so you could’ve bought whatever you wanted.”
Ciara felt a shiver race up her back when she met Brandt’s penetrating stare. She didn’t know what had possessed her to tease him, but apparently it had backfired, because he was serious about her buying anything she wanted. She knew women who would’ve taken him up on his offer, all the while scheming to take as much from him as they could get. However, she wasn’t one of those women. In the past she’d become another wealthy man’s darling and she had no intention of it happening again. Even if Brandt Wainwright hadn’t become a celebrity athlete he still would be a wealthy man.
She pulled back. “I bought what I needed.”
“Are you going to show me what you bought?”
“No.”
“No?”
Ciara almost laughed at the shocked expression on his handsome face. “You’ll see it later.” Stepping out of his reach, she walked through the entryway and great room to the hallway that led to her bedroom. “See you later, baby,” she called over her shoulder.
Chapter 9
A chef, sous chef and waiter arrived at the penthouse a half hour before the Wainwrights were scheduled to arrive. When Brandt had informed Ciara that his friend owned a restaurant, she’d believed he would order takeout, not have everything prepared on site.
She’d assisted Brandt in getting into a pair of Dockers men’s shorts and into the removable casts before retreating to her bedroom to dress. He’d remained upbeat, his attitude a lot more positive once the removable ski-boot casts had replaced the heavier plaster ones. He was now able to shower without plastic sheaths, but she still had to dry his legs and feet and help him into his underwear and shorts. It would be another three weeks before he would be permitted to use a pair of crutches.
Ciara glanced at her watch, grimacing. She had less than fifteen minutes to dress, make up her face and style her hair before the Wainwrights arrived. Removing her glasses, she deftly inserted a pair of contact lenses. She didn’t know why she didn’t wear the lenses every day, because they improved her vision appreciably.
She slipped into the dress, pulled up the side zipper, then sat down at the vanity in the bathroom to apply a smoky shadow to her lids and a lighter shade under her brow and a coat of mascara to her lashes, followed by a light dusting of powder bronzer to her face; a plum-tinted lip gloss added color to her mouth. Freeing her hair from the confines of the elastic band, Ciara brushed it until it was smooth, then deftly fashioned it into a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. It wasn’t the bun Brandt had complained about, but an elegant variation on the staid style.
Leaving the en suite bath, she walked into the bedroom at the same time there came a light tapping on the door connecting the bedrooms. “Yes, Brandt,” she called out, sitting on a chair and slipping her bare feet into the slingback stilettos.
“May I come in?”
She stood up. “Yes.”
The door opened and Brandt rolled the chair into the room. Ciara was hard-pressed not to laugh when she saw his expression. He was so still he could’ve been carved from stone. The only thing that moved were his eyes as they went from her head and slowly downward to her legs and feet. The very air in the room seemed charged with electricity as their gazes met and fused.
She felt the familiar sensation that had precipitated her giving Brandt the lap dance. Closing her eyes, she counted slowly to ten while breathing through parted lips. She had