Hoodwinked by Diana Palmer Page B

wearing with her worn jeans. But her guest didn’t seem to notice or mind, except that his dark eyes lingered just a little too long for politeness on the thrust of her breasts—especially when that scrutiny made the tips very obvious.
    â€œWhy did you tie up your hair that way?” he asked, nodding toward her ponytail. “It doesn’t suit you at all.”
    â€œThanks a lot!”
    â€œI like it long.” He took another bite out of his sandwich and chewed carefully before he swallowed it down with a sip of coffee. His dark eyes met hers and he smiled amusedly. “Take that ponytail down and I might make love to you.”
    Her heart leaped. “No,” she said with faint humor. “You don’t have sex with virgins. You said so.”
    â€œMake love,” he whispered, his dark eyes holding her green ones as he smiled. “Not have sex.”
    She colored but her gaze didn’t waver. “What’s the difference?”
    â€œOnly an innocent could ask a question like that.” He finished his second sandwich and leaned back to sip his coffee. “Those were good.”
    â€œThank you,” she said, wondering how a man could mix sex with ham sandwiches in the same conversation.
    He nibbled on a potato chip while he studied her. “How was your boss today?” he asked out of the blue.
    â€œMr. Blake?” she asked absently, offering Bagwell a potato chip. “He was rather preoccupied. I wanted to ask him what he’d found out about the saboteur, but he wasn’t talking. I think Mr. MacFaber had made mincemeat out of him,” she said with a smile. “Charlene said he was giving the executives hell.”
    â€œWhich they richly deserved,” he returned. His eyes went hard as he sipped his coffee. “The whole damned project could have been scrapped over one man’s stupid mistake.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “What do you know about it?”
    â€œMechanics know everything,” he said easily.
    â€œOh.” She got up and poured some more coffee. “You look tired.”
    â€œI feel tired.” He leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh. “I’m getting too old for my life-style, did you know, Maureen? I think I’m going to have to slow down.”
    â€œNonsense. You’re only as old as you think you are.” She touched his thick, black hair hesitantly. “You ought to go home and go to bed,” she said gently.
    His hand caught hers and his eyes opened, looking up into hers. “Sleep with me.”
    She flushed. “No.”
    â€œJust sleep,” he murmured with a soft smile. “I’m too tired for anything else.”
    â€œThat wouldn’t be a good idea,” she said, hating her inhibitions, because she’d never wanted anything more than to curl up beside him in a bed and feel him holding her close in the darkness. But it would be too dangerous.
    â€œWhy not?” he persisted.
    â€œBecause something could happen.” Her eyes darted to his and away again. “Jake, I don’t even know how to take precautions.”
    He frowned as he studied her downcast face. She was a throwback to another age. And yet, there was something so vulnerable about her, so deeply loving. He wondered how it would be if she loved him. He wondered how it would be if she was carrying his child.
    His own thought irritated him. He let go of her hand. “You’re right. Something could happen, and it’s too soon.” He got to his feet, stretching lazily. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make our bowling date,” he said suddenly. “So how about tomorrow night? We’ll have Chinese food and bowl afterward.”
    She felt her heart leap. “Tomorrow night?”
    â€œYes.”
    Her face brightened. “I’d love to.”
    â€œI’ll pick you up at six.” He curved his hand over Bagwell’s sleepy head and ruffled it