minutes,
going over again her reasons for being there, his obvious many
faults, and several excellent points regarding why a liaison with
him—in the form of steamy, wild, hot jungle sex—would be a very bad
thing.
It didn't do any good. She still felt like crying.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she put him from her mind?
Why was her silly heart so caught up in him when he was the epitome
of everything she disliked in a man?
“And what's wrong with wanting steamy, wild, hot
jungle sex?” she asked aloud, throwing a handful of grass blades
into the wind.
“Is that a trick question?” a deep voice asked from
behind her. Her heart did a few somersaults in hearing it. Adam
strolled over to her, now clad in a pair of black trousers and a
thin linen shirt that caressed his torso like a lover's hands. “Are
there multiple choice answers? Because honestly, I don't think
there's anything wrong with wanting steamy jungle sex. Do you?”
He sat down on the grass next to her, his long legs
crossed at the ankle as he leaned back against the bench.
She stared at him. He came back?
“I left Jesus locked in the cabana as punishment for
his bad manners. You're right; it is beautiful here. And peaceful,
too. Very peaceful.”
He came back? To sit with her?
“What I'm amazed at is how the scent of the flowers
dominates despite the sea air.” He breathed in deeply, his eyes
closing to appreciate the perfumed air better.
He came back to sit with
her? Why had he
come back to sit with her?
“Not that there's anything wrong with sea air. I
like that too. I'm from a small town in the mountains of
California, and I don't often get to the ocean.”
He came back! Surely that meant something!
Adam glanced at her, suddenly looking a bit
uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, am I intruding on your quiet time? I'll
leave if you like.”
Eeek! He was going to leave!
“No, please don't!” she said
hurriedly, trying to gather her scattered wits, scolding herself
for being rendered so hen-witted by a mere man. Except he wasn't
a mere anything . “I'd like for you to stay.
That is to say, you're welcome to sit here. With me. I was…erm…I
was just sitting here. Not doing anything, just sitting. So you're
welcome to sit, too. Here. With me.”
Lord, what an idiot she sounded. She wouldn't be
surprised if he left, but he didn't. He smiled. That smile ought to
be bottled and sold, she mused to herself when she couldn't help
but smile back at him. It was better than pheromones.
“Would you be adverse to doing a favor for me?”
She looked startled at his request.
Adam cleared his throat nervously. “It has nothing to do with
our arrangement .”
“Oh?” Now she looked relieved.
He swallowed back his nervousness. The worst she
could do was to say no. How bad could a little rejection be? His
mind went to the scene a few months before when Brittany stormed
out of their apartment.
It could be very bad.
“What is the favor?”
The moonlight glinted on her auburn curls, making
them a glossy silver and black. His fingers itched to run through
those soft curls, to clutch them and hold her head in a position
where he could plunder that sweet mouth until he could plunder no
more. Reluctantly, he dragged his mind back from thoughts of
plundering, damning his lack of self-control. He had seen the
startled look in her eye a few minutes back when she saw the
reaction he had to her nearness. He had hoped getting into less
obvious clothing would help the situation, but he was painfully
aware that it hadn't. He was aroused and hard and hot and he wanted
her like he'd never wanted anyone.
“Adam? The favor?”
“Eh? Oh, the favor.” He was mad, he was a lunatic,
he was crazed and deranged for wanting to torment himself in this
manner, but he had to ask her. She was smart, she was witty, she
was everything every woman should be. Well, true, the blackmailing
aspect to their relationship wasn't particularly desirable, but
since he secretly
going over again her reasons for being there, his obvious many
faults, and several excellent points regarding why a liaison with
him—in the form of steamy, wild, hot jungle sex—would be a very bad
thing.
It didn't do any good. She still felt like crying.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she put him from her mind?
Why was her silly heart so caught up in him when he was the epitome
of everything she disliked in a man?
“And what's wrong with wanting steamy, wild, hot
jungle sex?” she asked aloud, throwing a handful of grass blades
into the wind.
“Is that a trick question?” a deep voice asked from
behind her. Her heart did a few somersaults in hearing it. Adam
strolled over to her, now clad in a pair of black trousers and a
thin linen shirt that caressed his torso like a lover's hands. “Are
there multiple choice answers? Because honestly, I don't think
there's anything wrong with wanting steamy jungle sex. Do you?”
He sat down on the grass next to her, his long legs
crossed at the ankle as he leaned back against the bench.
She stared at him. He came back?
“I left Jesus locked in the cabana as punishment for
his bad manners. You're right; it is beautiful here. And peaceful,
too. Very peaceful.”
He came back? To sit with her?
“What I'm amazed at is how the scent of the flowers
dominates despite the sea air.” He breathed in deeply, his eyes
closing to appreciate the perfumed air better.
He came back to sit with
her? Why had he
come back to sit with her?
“Not that there's anything wrong with sea air. I
like that too. I'm from a small town in the mountains of
California, and I don't often get to the ocean.”
He came back! Surely that meant something!
Adam glanced at her, suddenly looking a bit
uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, am I intruding on your quiet time? I'll
leave if you like.”
Eeek! He was going to leave!
“No, please don't!” she said
hurriedly, trying to gather her scattered wits, scolding herself
for being rendered so hen-witted by a mere man. Except he wasn't
a mere anything . “I'd like for you to stay.
That is to say, you're welcome to sit here. With me. I was…erm…I
was just sitting here. Not doing anything, just sitting. So you're
welcome to sit, too. Here. With me.”
Lord, what an idiot she sounded. She wouldn't be
surprised if he left, but he didn't. He smiled. That smile ought to
be bottled and sold, she mused to herself when she couldn't help
but smile back at him. It was better than pheromones.
“Would you be adverse to doing a favor for me?”
She looked startled at his request.
Adam cleared his throat nervously. “It has nothing to do with
our arrangement .”
“Oh?” Now she looked relieved.
He swallowed back his nervousness. The worst she
could do was to say no. How bad could a little rejection be? His
mind went to the scene a few months before when Brittany stormed
out of their apartment.
It could be very bad.
“What is the favor?”
The moonlight glinted on her auburn curls, making
them a glossy silver and black. His fingers itched to run through
those soft curls, to clutch them and hold her head in a position
where he could plunder that sweet mouth until he could plunder no
more. Reluctantly, he dragged his mind back from thoughts of
plundering, damning his lack of self-control. He had seen the
startled look in her eye a few minutes back when she saw the
reaction he had to her nearness. He had hoped getting into less
obvious clothing would help the situation, but he was painfully
aware that it hadn't. He was aroused and hard and hot and he wanted
her like he'd never wanted anyone.
“Adam? The favor?”
“Eh? Oh, the favor.” He was mad, he was a lunatic,
he was crazed and deranged for wanting to torment himself in this
manner, but he had to ask her. She was smart, she was witty, she
was everything every woman should be. Well, true, the blackmailing
aspect to their relationship wasn't particularly desirable, but
since he secretly
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