The McCaffertys: Randi by Lisa Jackson

Author:Lisa Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-01-24T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

He was lying next to her, his body hard and honed, skin stretched taut over muscles that were smooth and fluid as he levered up on one elbow to stare down at her. Green eyes glittered with a dark seductive fire that thrilled her and silently spoke of pleasures to come. With the fingers of one callused hand he traced the contours of his body. She tingled, her breasts tightening under his scrutinizing gaze, her nipples becoming hard as buttons. He leaned forward and scraped a beard-roughened cheek over her flesh. Deep inside, she felt desire stretching as it came awake.

This was so wrong. She shouldn’t be in bed with Kurt Striker. What had she been thinking? How had this happened? She barely knew the man…and yet, the wanting was so intense, burning through her blood, chasing away her doubts, and as he bent to kiss her, she knew she couldn’t resist, that with just the brush of his hard lips on hers she would be lost completely—

Bam!

Her eyes flew open at the sound. Where was she? It was dark. And cold. She was alone in the bed—her bed—and she felt as if she’d slept for hours, her bladder stretched to the limit, her stomach rumbling for food.

“Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty,” Kurt said from the vicinity of the doorway. She blinked and found him standing in the doorway, his shoulders nearly touching each side of the frame, his body backlit by the flickering light still cast from the living-room fire. In relief he seemed larger, more rugged. The kind of man to avoid.

So she’d been dreaming about making love to him again. Only dreaming. Thank God. Not that the ache deep within her had subsided. Yes, she was in her own bed, but she was alone and fully dressed, just the way he’d left her minutes—or had it been hours—before?

“Wha—What’s the rush?” she mumbled, trying to shake off the remainder of that damnably erotic fantasy even though a part of her wanted to close her eyes and call it back. “So what happened to ‘shh, darlin’, you should get some rest’?” she asked sarcastically.

He took a step into the room. “You got it. Slept for nearly eighteen hours, now it’s time to rock ’n’ roll.”

“What? Eighteen hours…no…” She glanced at the bedside clock and the digital display indicated it was after three. “I couldn’t have…” But the bad taste in her mouth and the pressure on her bladder suggested he was right.

Groaning, she thought about her job and the fact that she was irreparably late. Bill Withers was probably chewing her up one side and down the other. “I’m gonna get fired yet,” she muttered, then added, “Give me a sec.”

Scrambling from beneath the warmth of her duvet, she stumbled over one of her shoes on her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she shut the door, snapped on the light and cringed at her reflection. Within minutes she’d relieved herself, splashed water onto her face and brushed her teeth.

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