For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,14
will know they’re getting someone unique.”
She bristled at unique, but no, there wasn’t a trace of criticism in his tone. If anything, she sensed appreciation, and that made her smile. “Okay,” she said. “I can do that.”
She left and returned wearing the bulkiest scarf in her collection. Even she had to admit it was over the top for fall, but the chunky, soft blue knit was her favorite, though she couldn’t imagine the size of the skein of yarn needed to knit it. It sat loosely around her neck, draping slightly over her shoulders and sitting in billowed stacks all the way up to her chin.
Sawyer looked at her in disbelief. “What is that? An afghan?”
“It’s a scarf,” she said sweetly.
He did a somewhat admirable job of masking the discontent she suspected he felt. Until he spoke. “It looks like you got tangled up in your bedding and staggered out here for help.”
If he didn’t look so alarmed she’d call him out for being a jerk. Instead, she had to fight back a smile. “You said unique.”
Still somewhat bewildered, he said, “Well, that’s great if you’re trying to attract an Inuit, but I’m guessing the club will be largely free of Arctic-dwellers. Can you put on a necklace or something instead?”
“Of course.” At her agreeable tone, his expression darkened. He probably wondered what she’d come out with next.
“But not like a horse collar or anything,” he called after her.
Ass. She didn’t reply, but she did find her clunkiest necklace—an artfully, intentionally tangled mass of metal and pearls. She fastened it and paused when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The bold hunks of metal made a stark contrast to her smooth skin and drew her eye immediately to her cleavage. If she stepped out of her own head, she’d have to admit that it was sexy. Not what she had planned, but she liked it.
And she couldn’t help wondering if Sawyer would, too.
When she emerged from the bedroom this time, his eyes widened. “Nice.”
Marmaduke stared plaintively from his spot next to Sawyer’s feet. At least he didn’t appear to be attached to Sawyer’s pant leg. “See you in a little while,” she said to the dog. “Be good.”
Sawyer snorted. “Is that what I forgot to say when I was getting my ankle shredded?”
She rolled her eyes and followed him into the hall. Downstairs, she was surprised when he hailed a cab outside their building. “We’re not walking?”
He shrugged, all boyish grin and utter hotness in a crisp, white button-up shirt and dark jeans. “I have a friend who covers the door at a place in the Meatpacking District.”
She glanced down at her attire, unsure if she was dressed well enough for Manhattan. Granted, her dress was more mainstream than most of her wardrobe, but it lacked the pedigree of a designer label. And her heels were only four inches, and she could have sworn she’d read you couldn’t get into a Manhattan club on anything less than five. “Are they going to let me in to the Meatpacking District like this?”
His boyish grin took a devastatingly sexy turn, and her stomach shimmied inside. Just what she needed to do…actually ask him to check her out. And he did. Unapologetically. The look he shot her was lethal, in a seductive kind of way. No wonder he had women falling at his feet. Just. Not. Her.
Her nipples, however, hadn’t gotten the memo. Under his scrutiny, they tightened painfully. Her knees turned to scrambled eggs, and her breath quickened. And suddenly it mattered very, very much what he thought.
“You’ll be lucky if I let you in to a club dressed like that.” The words came on a possessive growl just as a cab pulled up curbside. He opened the door and allowed her to slide in first. After climbing in after her, he said, “Fortunately, we won’t have to wait outside. Those guys out there have nothing better to do than gawk.”
After he’d given the address to the driver, she asked, “Haven’t you heard the best things are worth waiting for?”
He visually traced the lines of her body, all the way to the tips of her toes and back again. “Yeah, you can wait. Candles and roses,” he said, clearly on some other page. He leaned close, his voice a conspiring whisper that made rivulets of fire trace her skin. “Or I can throw open the door and push you up against the wall and fuck you hard, right there, because