a still groggy voice.
He sits at the edge of the bed, untying his running shoes, sweat pouring off his face. “You do. It’s probably the fresh air, maybe allergies.”
My face heats to the level of an erupting volcano. “You’re joking?” I ask, mortified that what he’s saying might be true.
“Yeah.” He stands, strips off his shirt and tosses it on the bed.
Now I have to stare at his muscled chest while sweat drips down it like dots of rain on a window, only these drops are slipping from one ab to the next.
I was not prepared for this kind of exquisite torture when I agreed to this trip.
Grabbing my coffee from the nightstand, I take a sip with the hopes of stopping more saliva from pooling inside my mouth.
“I told you I had a sense of humor.” He picks up his running shoes, placing them beside his suitcase is. “I have a proposition for you.”
He sits back down and though I’ve always prided myself on my willpower, right now it’s taking everything in me not to launch myself across this mattress and on top of him.
“Why don’t you put your shirt back on and then we can talk?” I really don’t care at this point if I’m tipping my cards to him. I cannot sit here and pretend not to be distracted by his body any longer.
I pull the sheet up over my body. I’m dressed in shorts and a cami, nothing too revealing but I’m sure my headlights are on and glaring.
“Why?” he asks with his signature cocky grin. “You like what you see?”
Yes, yes, I do.
“Nope.” My tone is curt and borderline mean. “It’s common courtesy when we’re sharing a space.”
“Common courtesy?” He quirks one eyebrow, amusement lighting his tone.
“Yes. You’re in the presence of a lady.” I sip my coffee, hoping to keep the smile from my face.
“Shit, how old are you?” He leans back on his hands, not attempting to move for his t-shirt.
“Old enough.” I scowl.
“I’m older and even if I suggested I should clothe myself in front of a lady, it’d be dated.”
“There’s only one thing right in your sentence and that’s that you’re older than me.”
He stares at me for an unnerving beat. If I was anyone other than myself, I’d pounce on him and think of the consequences later.
He stands. “Get ready. We’re heading into town.” He saunters to the bathroom and closes the door, water rattling the pipes in the wall seconds later.
An hour later, I’m back in the passenger seat of his Range Rover trying not to peek over at Roarke in admiration again. His usual suit has been replaced with a pair of light blue linen shorts and a V-neck t-shirt that showcases his broad shoulders. His hair isn’t gelled into cement, rather showing the soft curls in a messy weekend look. The man can pull off casual and business. How do I even stand a chance?
“You’ve got great legs.” His gaze doesn’t venture my way as we pass a small green sign that says Woods Parlor Population 1034.
“Did someone have a baby?” I ignore his comment about my legs. I was unsure if I should bring shorts so I opted on sundresses. Easier to dress up if I had to.
“What?”
“The population sign. The four looked new.”
He grants me a fleeting look and shrugs. “I don’t keep up with the town gossip.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as tall trees on either side fill out the drive. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help but notice the lack of people. Growing up in the burbs of Chicago my entire life, woods were reserved for forest preserves the city mandated so every square inch of the area wasn’t cement. Even while you’re in the forest preserve, you can usually see other people.
Since Roarke wasn’t too keen on me asking about the four, I remain quiet. My mind spins to why he brought me here. As a punishment of some sort? Did he want to see what it was like to take the rich society woman out of her element just for shits and giggles?
“Are you going to acknowledge my compliment? Isn’t that bad manners?”
“It’s bad manners to compliment my physical attributes.”
He huffs. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Lamest?”
“Who’s asking one-word questions now?” He spares a quick glance my way.
A zing fires in my belly. Our banter is something I’ve come to enjoy in the past week and when Roarke was busy sulking or thinking I kind of missed it.