Feeling the Heat by Brenda Jackson Page A

would handle them. She had no choice. She would not let Micah get the best of her. She had no qualms, however, about getting the best of him—in the area right below his belt.
    She rubbed her hand down her face, not believing her thoughts. They had gotten downright racy lately, and she blamed Micah for it. She was just about to turn to go back inside when a movement below her balcony caught her attention. A man was out jogging and she couldn’t help noticing what a fine specimen of a man he was.
    The temperature outside had to be in the low thirties, yet he was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. In her opinion, he was pneumonia just waiting to happen. Who in their right mind would be out jogging at this hour of the night, half dressed?
    She leaned against the railing and squinted her eyes in the moonlight. That’s when she saw that the man who’d captured her attention was Micah. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. She found that interesting and couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the same desire that was keeping her awake had him in its lusty clutches, as well.
    Serves him right if it did . He had spent a lot of his time this week trying his best to tempt her into his bed, but apparently he was getting the backlash.
    He was about to jog beneath her balcony, so she held her breath to keep him from detecting her presence. Except for the glow of the half moon, it was dark, and there was no reason for him to glance up…or so she reasoned. But it didn’t stop him from doing so. In fact, as if he’d sensed she was there, he slowed to a stop and stared straight up at her, locking in on her gaze.
    And he kept right on staring at her while her heart rate increased tenfold. Suddenly there was more than a breeze stirring the air around her, and it seemed as if her surroundings got extremely quiet. The only thing that was coming in clear was the sound of her irregular breathing.
    She stared right back at him and saw that his gaze was devouring her in a way she felt clear beneath her robe. In fact, if she didn’t know for certain she was wearing clothes, she would think that she was naked. Oh, why were the sensual lines of his lips so well-defined in the moonlight? Knowing she could be headed for serious trouble if their gazes continued to connect, she broke eye contact, only to be drawn back to his gaze seconds later.
    He had to be cold, she thought, yet he was standing in that one spot, beneath her balcony, staring up at her. She licked her lips and felt his gaze shift to her mouth.
    Then he spoke in a deep, husky voice, “Meet me in the staircase, Kalina.”
    His request flowed through her, touching her already aroused body in places it shouldn’t have. Turbulent emotions swept through her, and from the look in his eyes it was obvious that he expected her to act on his demand. Should she? Could she? Why would she?
    She was bright enough to know that he didn’t want her to meet him so they could discuss the weather. Nor would they discuss their inability to pinpoint the origin of the deadly virus. There was no doubt in her mind as to why he wanted to meet her on the stairs, and she would be crazy, completely insane, to do what he asked.
    Breaking eye contact with him, she moved away from the balcony’s railing and slid open the French doors to go back inside. She moved toward her bed, tossed off her robe and was about to slide between the sheets, when she paused. Okay, she didn’t like him anymore, but why was she denying herself a chance to have a good night’s sleep? She had needs that hadn’t been met in more than two years, and she knew for a fact that he was good at that sort of thing. She didn’t love him, and he didn’t love her. It would be all about needs and wants being satisfied, nothing more.
    She drew in a deep breath, thinking she might be jumping the gun here. All he’d asked her to do was to meet him at the stairs. For all she knew, he might just want to talk. Or maybe he