she searched around for another idea,
anything, before he realized she was acting like a crazy woman, her
eyes practically falling out of her head ogling him.
"What about a shoulder ride?" she suggested.
He gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged his lack of objection to
the idea. She tried not to get too absorbed in following the ripple of
muscle this caused down his body. But she must have been staring,
because the next thing she noticed he was giving her a really weird
look. The kind of look you give a dog when you think it might have
rabies. She almost lifted a hand to check she wasn't foaming at the
mouth.
"You want to do this now?" he asked warily.
"Sure."
Concentrate,she warned herself. Concentrate, and we'll write off the last five minutes as some extremely strange reaction to oxygen deprivation.
He squatted in front of her, and she froze a moment, staring at his
well-muscled back. He really was in fine shape. Most guys who had desk
jobs as he did would have let themselves go soft and run to fat, but he
either had a truly stunning metabolism, or a natural affection for
exercise. For the first time, she understood how Fiona from Legal, and
Katherine and all those other women were unable to resist him. He was
just plain sexy. Tall, and strong, and handsome, and…
"What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" he asked. She blinked. What is wrong with me?
"Let's just get this over with," he suggested, impatience oozing from
every pore as he swiveled his head around to look at her.
Page 51
Slapping every inappropriate thought to one side, she hitched her skirt
around her waist, stepped toward him, and slung her left leg over his
shoulder. She almost jumped when he immediately enclosed her ankle in a
warm, firm grip.
"Other leg, come on," he ordered, leaning forward a little so she could
find her balance. She obediently slid her other leg over his shoulder,
and before she could brace herself he'd locked her other ankle in place
and was surging to his feet. For a scary moment she teetered on his
shoulders, and instinctively she grasped at his head for balance.
His hair was thick and wavy, and she ploughed her fingers into it as she searched for a grip.
"Yow!" he howled, and she immediately loosened her death grip.
"Sorry."
"Can you reach it?" he asked, and she tried not to register the rasp of
his stubbly cheek against the tender skin of her inner thighs.
Jack Brook with his face against her thighs? She had trouble even
processing the thought, let alone the sensation. Forcing herself to
focus on the matter at hand, she studied the catch on the cover a
moment, then flicked it open. Tentative, she pushed the cover upward,
but it gave way readily, flopping open to clang loudly on the elevator
car's roof.
"Done!" she said with satisfaction.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she shoved a hand up into the opening.
"Much cooler out there. Hopefully it'll make a difference in here," she
reported. She was about to suggest he put her down when he slid his
hands up her shins and over her knees to grasp her firmly just above
each knee. And then he began jiggling from side to side, causing her to
renew her death grip on his hair.
"What are you doing?" she squeaked.
She'd instinctively clamped her thighs tighter around his neck as soon as her balance was in jeopardy, and she could actually feel him grin.
"Victory dance," he said, and she held her breath as he twirled them
both around in a little circle. What a goof.But she couldn't help
smiling: ridiculous as it seemed, opening a stupid utility hatch felt
like an achievement. She smiled as she felt the shifting of his strong
shoulders beneath her as he danced a few more steps, and even managed a
little bongo-drum accompaniment on his head. She was still smiling when
he announced he was going to let her down. He crouched low, and she
maneuvered first one then the other leg off his shoulders, hastily
pulling her skirt back down where it belonged before he
anything, before he realized she was acting like a crazy woman, her
eyes practically falling out of her head ogling him.
"What about a shoulder ride?" she suggested.
He gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged his lack of objection to
the idea. She tried not to get too absorbed in following the ripple of
muscle this caused down his body. But she must have been staring,
because the next thing she noticed he was giving her a really weird
look. The kind of look you give a dog when you think it might have
rabies. She almost lifted a hand to check she wasn't foaming at the
mouth.
"You want to do this now?" he asked warily.
"Sure."
Concentrate,she warned herself. Concentrate, and we'll write off the last five minutes as some extremely strange reaction to oxygen deprivation.
He squatted in front of her, and she froze a moment, staring at his
well-muscled back. He really was in fine shape. Most guys who had desk
jobs as he did would have let themselves go soft and run to fat, but he
either had a truly stunning metabolism, or a natural affection for
exercise. For the first time, she understood how Fiona from Legal, and
Katherine and all those other women were unable to resist him. He was
just plain sexy. Tall, and strong, and handsome, and…
"What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" he asked. She blinked. What is wrong with me?
"Let's just get this over with," he suggested, impatience oozing from
every pore as he swiveled his head around to look at her.
Page 51
Slapping every inappropriate thought to one side, she hitched her skirt
around her waist, stepped toward him, and slung her left leg over his
shoulder. She almost jumped when he immediately enclosed her ankle in a
warm, firm grip.
"Other leg, come on," he ordered, leaning forward a little so she could
find her balance. She obediently slid her other leg over his shoulder,
and before she could brace herself he'd locked her other ankle in place
and was surging to his feet. For a scary moment she teetered on his
shoulders, and instinctively she grasped at his head for balance.
His hair was thick and wavy, and she ploughed her fingers into it as she searched for a grip.
"Yow!" he howled, and she immediately loosened her death grip.
"Sorry."
"Can you reach it?" he asked, and she tried not to register the rasp of
his stubbly cheek against the tender skin of her inner thighs.
Jack Brook with his face against her thighs? She had trouble even
processing the thought, let alone the sensation. Forcing herself to
focus on the matter at hand, she studied the catch on the cover a
moment, then flicked it open. Tentative, she pushed the cover upward,
but it gave way readily, flopping open to clang loudly on the elevator
car's roof.
"Done!" she said with satisfaction.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she shoved a hand up into the opening.
"Much cooler out there. Hopefully it'll make a difference in here," she
reported. She was about to suggest he put her down when he slid his
hands up her shins and over her knees to grasp her firmly just above
each knee. And then he began jiggling from side to side, causing her to
renew her death grip on his hair.
"What are you doing?" she squeaked.
She'd instinctively clamped her thighs tighter around his neck as soon as her balance was in jeopardy, and she could actually feel him grin.
"Victory dance," he said, and she held her breath as he twirled them
both around in a little circle. What a goof.But she couldn't help
smiling: ridiculous as it seemed, opening a stupid utility hatch felt
like an achievement. She smiled as she felt the shifting of his strong
shoulders beneath her as he danced a few more steps, and even managed a
little bongo-drum accompaniment on his head. She was still smiling when
he announced he was going to let her down. He crouched low, and she
maneuvered first one then the other leg off his shoulders, hastily
pulling her skirt back down where it belonged before he
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