Cheyenne's Lady by Mindy Neff

Author:Mindy Neff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Cheyenne came to a halt at the bathroom door, astonished, amused…charmed.

Emily was posing in front of the mirror, her mouth pursed as though she were a teenager practicing kissing skills, her lips coated in cherry-red lipstick, slick and wet-looking. They’d been living in close quarters for several weeks now, and he still got a jolt every time he saw her in his home.

As he watched, she parted her lips, licked them, her eyes going soft and sensual as though a lover looked back at her through the reflection.

A lover who’d just asked a question.

And received a very carnal, very affirmative answer in return.

Desire slammed through him, making him hard in an instant.

Hell on fire, he wanted to be the man asking that question, asking for the go-ahead.

And he wanted her to look at him just like that, give him that answer, that ecstasy her lips and gaze promised.

He must have made a noise. Her gaze shifted. Then she literally jumped and gave a feminine, one-note scream.

“Oh, my gosh! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Her face was nearly as bright as the lipstick on her incredibly full lips.

“I’m, uh…working.”

He raised a brow. “Need any help?”

She gaped at him for a moment, then let out her breath in a whoosh. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“No need. What are you working on?” He let his gaze travel down the rest of her, taking in her flannel nightshirt and thermal leggings. Not the most seductive outfit, by any means. To Cheyenne’s way of thinking, it was hands-down better than a baby-doll negligee.

“A lipstick ad.”

“Going for the sex angle, hmm?”

Her gaze touched on everything in the bathroom except him. “Sort of. Did you need in here?”

He shook his head. “You left the door open. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but nothing’ll stop a man quicker than a woman puckering her lips.”

She brushed by him. “You’ve got to stop talking like that.”

He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. She had her laptop computer set up on the table. Faxes with drawings and memos were strewn amongst bottles, pacifiers, disposable diapers, baby powder and a cup of coffee gone cold.

“Talking like what?” he asked, knowing exactly what she meant. He didn’t know why he kept baiting her. They had no business kissing—or thinking about it. She’d made it clear enough that they were supposed to be roommates.

Married roommates taking care of babies.

His mind kept refusing to remember the rules.

She clicked the computer’s mouse on a drawing—lips, he noted—and dragged the image until it was larger, more pouty.

“Like about kissing.”

“Did I say anything about kissing?”

She gave him a look as though he’d gone daft. It was an expression he imagined that had account executives falling in line. Even though she sat there in what appeared to be her pajamas, she still managed to look regal and commanding.

And had his hormones in a tangled mess.

“How are the kids?” It might be wise to change the subject.

“They’re asleep—for the next two minutes at least—and I thought I’d take advantage of the time.

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