wondered if his smile was real or fake. All the lines were getting blurred.
She really did like her steaks medium-well, and he hadn't had to ask. But considering what had happened just before Carlo had arrived, Kimberly could hardly concentrate on how much she liked it that he remembered another detail about her. There were bigger things on her mind, like Max himself and the strange sensations that rushed through her still—passion tainted with embarrassment. Or was that embarrassment tainted with passion?
Temper that with the ghoulish feeling of having her breasts ogled by Carlo while she cut into her steak, and things got icky. She'd just figured out that it wasn't merely Carlo's blatant lust that bothered her—she'd had problems with men like him before, men who saw women as nothing more than sexual objects. It was dealing with this at the same time as she tried to deal with wanting Max that made things so hard. It was difficult putting up the tough wall of un emotion required to deal with guys like Carlo while she was immersed in her very emotional response to Max.
She gave her head a slight shake, recalling the encounter they'd shared over the sunscreen. That was the last thing she'd have expected from Max, especially after last night when he'd left the bed she slept in. She couldn't have been more shocked.
"Pass the salt, will you please, Kimberly?" The voice belonged to Carlo and the move required a long reach on her part, toward the other side of the table and then back to him. His eyes drank in her every move. Pig , she muttered to herself as she handed the shaker to him and watched him sprinkle only the tiniest bit on his food.
Under the table then, Carlo leaned his knee into hers. Her body instinctively froze. Instincts also told her to shift her legs away from his and toward Max, who was just now taking a seat on the other side of her at the round table, but she knew leaning her legs away would be the wrong move, casewise. It was time to start being a little more responsive to the suspect, a little more inviting. She'd not exactly been pushing him away up to this point, but if Carlo was to make his play sometime this weekend, she needed to start altering her actions and letting him know she liked him. The thought nearly made her gag, but it was what the job called for.
So she forced herself to leave her knees where they were, disgusting as it was. She even tossed him a coy little smile. She didn't look at Max to see if he noticed, but she was glad he was there, just the same. And she was glad he'd be in the closet when Carlo tried to seduce her, too. She still hadn't figured out the sunscreen encounter—what it might mean, where it left them now—but she needed Max's protection with this guy. And besides, he owed it to her. After all, it was him and his amorous attention that had left her feeling so volatile right now.
She let Carlo's knees touch hers for two minutes, maybe more, then moved. That was enough—a good, bold, teaser-type invitation—and it was all she could stand.
After she finished her meal, Kimberly lay her napkin on the table and leaned back in her seat. She'd gotten a slight cramp in her neck, probably from falling asleep in the lounge chair earlier. Emotionally tired, sated from the large meal and practically ready for another nap, she let her eyes fall shut and rolled her neck slowly, trying to work out the kink. Bad move.
"Here, let me help you with that." It was Carlo, of course, rising from his chair and moving behind her to massage her shoulders. "I took a class on this," he went on, "so I know just what to do to make it feel better." She'd completely forgotten what a blatant opportunist the little skunk was.
But she knew when to make a situation work for her , too. "Thanks, Carlo. That feels wonderful." She let the last word drag out in a sensuous sort of way she knew he would appreciate. And she put up her little emotional wall that allowed the creep to touch her
She really did like her steaks medium-well, and he hadn't had to ask. But considering what had happened just before Carlo had arrived, Kimberly could hardly concentrate on how much she liked it that he remembered another detail about her. There were bigger things on her mind, like Max himself and the strange sensations that rushed through her still—passion tainted with embarrassment. Or was that embarrassment tainted with passion?
Temper that with the ghoulish feeling of having her breasts ogled by Carlo while she cut into her steak, and things got icky. She'd just figured out that it wasn't merely Carlo's blatant lust that bothered her—she'd had problems with men like him before, men who saw women as nothing more than sexual objects. It was dealing with this at the same time as she tried to deal with wanting Max that made things so hard. It was difficult putting up the tough wall of un emotion required to deal with guys like Carlo while she was immersed in her very emotional response to Max.
She gave her head a slight shake, recalling the encounter they'd shared over the sunscreen. That was the last thing she'd have expected from Max, especially after last night when he'd left the bed she slept in. She couldn't have been more shocked.
"Pass the salt, will you please, Kimberly?" The voice belonged to Carlo and the move required a long reach on her part, toward the other side of the table and then back to him. His eyes drank in her every move. Pig , she muttered to herself as she handed the shaker to him and watched him sprinkle only the tiniest bit on his food.
Under the table then, Carlo leaned his knee into hers. Her body instinctively froze. Instincts also told her to shift her legs away from his and toward Max, who was just now taking a seat on the other side of her at the round table, but she knew leaning her legs away would be the wrong move, casewise. It was time to start being a little more responsive to the suspect, a little more inviting. She'd not exactly been pushing him away up to this point, but if Carlo was to make his play sometime this weekend, she needed to start altering her actions and letting him know she liked him. The thought nearly made her gag, but it was what the job called for.
So she forced herself to leave her knees where they were, disgusting as it was. She even tossed him a coy little smile. She didn't look at Max to see if he noticed, but she was glad he was there, just the same. And she was glad he'd be in the closet when Carlo tried to seduce her, too. She still hadn't figured out the sunscreen encounter—what it might mean, where it left them now—but she needed Max's protection with this guy. And besides, he owed it to her. After all, it was him and his amorous attention that had left her feeling so volatile right now.
She let Carlo's knees touch hers for two minutes, maybe more, then moved. That was enough—a good, bold, teaser-type invitation—and it was all she could stand.
After she finished her meal, Kimberly lay her napkin on the table and leaned back in her seat. She'd gotten a slight cramp in her neck, probably from falling asleep in the lounge chair earlier. Emotionally tired, sated from the large meal and practically ready for another nap, she let her eyes fall shut and rolled her neck slowly, trying to work out the kink. Bad move.
"Here, let me help you with that." It was Carlo, of course, rising from his chair and moving behind her to massage her shoulders. "I took a class on this," he went on, "so I know just what to do to make it feel better." She'd completely forgotten what a blatant opportunist the little skunk was.
But she knew when to make a situation work for her , too. "Thanks, Carlo. That feels wonderful." She let the last word drag out in a sensuous sort of way she knew he would appreciate. And she put up her little emotional wall that allowed the creep to touch her
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