finally explained, "I guess it's what people expect. You know, a lot of executives expect tall, blond models to have a certain way about them."
"A certain stupid way?"
Eve nodded.
"So why'd you keep it up for me? I'm not an executive."
Eve struggled for an explanation. Suddenly an unpleasant look crossed Sam's face. "Wait a minute. It's my father, right? You found out he's the new owner of a number of magazines, and you were trying to get to him through me?"
Unable to suppress a trill of laughter, Eve shook her head. "I'm afraid impressing him was the last thing I did tonight. He looked at me like I was some kind of unpleasant insect. No, I swear, your father had nothing to do with it.”
"Then why?"
She paused. "I guess it was just easier to keep it up all the time than to slip in and out of character." She watched him, trying to determine if he believed her or not. His expression seemed to soften.
"Now, if you don't mind, I am feeling a headache coming on. Maybe you'd better go." Eve crossed the room to her bedroom door, waiting for him to follow. He didn't budge. She looked over her shoulder and put one hand on her hip. "Well?"
"You did it again. You never do wait for people to answer, do you? I'm not going anywhere."
"What do you mean?" she asked warily.
"I mean, you issued an invitation to me."
"Oh, have your silly drink, if you must. Then you can leave."
Sam chuckled. "That's not the invitation I meant.”
Eve crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Oh? I don't recall inviting you to do anything else."
He slowly stood and crossed the room. Eve watched him, eyes wide, feeling like a stalked animal. His stare was unwavering, his steps smooth, steady and deliberate. When he reached her side, he tilted her chin up with the tip of one index finger. "Don't you?"
Eve shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from his. She licked her lips nervously.
His generous mouth curved into a smile. "Maybe your invitation was silent. Maybe you're even inviting me again right this second."
And he was right. She was. Because all she wanted right now was for him to kiss her again, to continue that sultry exploration they’d begun on the dance floor. Now that she no longer had to act a part for him, and could be free to be something like her real self, she wanted that kiss more than anything, even if a voice deep inside her told her she didn’t deserve it.
She remained silent, not even trying to duck away when he put his hands on either side of her, pressing them flat against the bedroom door, effectively trapping her just inches from his chest.
“I liked kissing you,” he whispered.
“I liked it too.”
And then he was. Kissing her. Tasting her. Driving her crazy.
His mouth was soft, nibbling at her lips until she parted them and welcomed his tongue with her own. Tilting her head, she invited him deeper and their tongues swirled and tangled, lazy, slow and sultry. She lifted her arms around his neck, holding him even more tightly, driven more than a little mad by the press of his long, hard body against her softer curves. His kiss was hot, demanding, but his tongue tasted sweet and she thought she could happily drown in him. She felt his fingers trail a course from the nape of her neck all the way down to the small of her back, and shivered when he gently slid them inside the waist of her dress, stroking her hip, nearing her bottom.
Eve reached for Sam's jacket, trying to shrug it off one shoulder. Instead of helping her, however, he ended their kiss and pulled away. She wanted to cry, missing his warmth and his strength and that amazing mouth.
Fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her, she leaned back against the door, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. Sam took another step back, watching her from a foot away. He didn’t reach for her, didn’t try to lead her to the bed—or pick her up and toss her on it.
Hell.
“Is that really all you wanted?" she asked when she could finally speak.
He shook his head and rubbed
"A certain stupid way?"
Eve nodded.
"So why'd you keep it up for me? I'm not an executive."
Eve struggled for an explanation. Suddenly an unpleasant look crossed Sam's face. "Wait a minute. It's my father, right? You found out he's the new owner of a number of magazines, and you were trying to get to him through me?"
Unable to suppress a trill of laughter, Eve shook her head. "I'm afraid impressing him was the last thing I did tonight. He looked at me like I was some kind of unpleasant insect. No, I swear, your father had nothing to do with it.”
"Then why?"
She paused. "I guess it was just easier to keep it up all the time than to slip in and out of character." She watched him, trying to determine if he believed her or not. His expression seemed to soften.
"Now, if you don't mind, I am feeling a headache coming on. Maybe you'd better go." Eve crossed the room to her bedroom door, waiting for him to follow. He didn't budge. She looked over her shoulder and put one hand on her hip. "Well?"
"You did it again. You never do wait for people to answer, do you? I'm not going anywhere."
"What do you mean?" she asked warily.
"I mean, you issued an invitation to me."
"Oh, have your silly drink, if you must. Then you can leave."
Sam chuckled. "That's not the invitation I meant.”
Eve crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Oh? I don't recall inviting you to do anything else."
He slowly stood and crossed the room. Eve watched him, eyes wide, feeling like a stalked animal. His stare was unwavering, his steps smooth, steady and deliberate. When he reached her side, he tilted her chin up with the tip of one index finger. "Don't you?"
Eve shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from his. She licked her lips nervously.
His generous mouth curved into a smile. "Maybe your invitation was silent. Maybe you're even inviting me again right this second."
And he was right. She was. Because all she wanted right now was for him to kiss her again, to continue that sultry exploration they’d begun on the dance floor. Now that she no longer had to act a part for him, and could be free to be something like her real self, she wanted that kiss more than anything, even if a voice deep inside her told her she didn’t deserve it.
She remained silent, not even trying to duck away when he put his hands on either side of her, pressing them flat against the bedroom door, effectively trapping her just inches from his chest.
“I liked kissing you,” he whispered.
“I liked it too.”
And then he was. Kissing her. Tasting her. Driving her crazy.
His mouth was soft, nibbling at her lips until she parted them and welcomed his tongue with her own. Tilting her head, she invited him deeper and their tongues swirled and tangled, lazy, slow and sultry. She lifted her arms around his neck, holding him even more tightly, driven more than a little mad by the press of his long, hard body against her softer curves. His kiss was hot, demanding, but his tongue tasted sweet and she thought she could happily drown in him. She felt his fingers trail a course from the nape of her neck all the way down to the small of her back, and shivered when he gently slid them inside the waist of her dress, stroking her hip, nearing her bottom.
Eve reached for Sam's jacket, trying to shrug it off one shoulder. Instead of helping her, however, he ended their kiss and pulled away. She wanted to cry, missing his warmth and his strength and that amazing mouth.
Fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her, she leaned back against the door, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. Sam took another step back, watching her from a foot away. He didn’t reach for her, didn’t try to lead her to the bed—or pick her up and toss her on it.
Hell.
“Is that really all you wanted?" she asked when she could finally speak.
He shook his head and rubbed
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