mugginess in the air. Sara waved to Candy as they parted ways for a few hours. She wasn’t expected back until the dinner shift today, and the freedom of the next few hours beckoned. She’d been on edge all morning, and it was tempting to blame that fact on the weather. But in truth, Nick Doucet was at the root of the feeling.
Without meaning to, she’d watched for him all morning, his words from yesterday ringing in her mind.
I’ll see you soon. Her memory all too accurately recalled the promise in his voice, the predatory, masculine intent in his eyes.
Her experience with men in recent years had been kept to a minimum, by her choice. There had been the waiter in Seattle, the one who had reminded her, in some slight way, of Sean. The resemblance had only been physical, and their encounter brief. She’d left town shortly after their relationship had started, and there had been no one since.
Dispassionately, she’d wondered from time to time if she was capable of feeling the type of desire that books rhapsodized over and movies glorified. Wondered if something vital in her had been broken years ago and could never work correctly again. She’d never regarded her lack with much regret. From what she’d witnessed, passion was an excuse, a weakness…and in the hands of some, a weapon.
But that didn’t account for the razor sharp awareness that flared to life every time Doucet came close. And her own unfamiliar reaction was just one more reason for her to steer clear of him.
Ignoring the sullen threat in the clouds, she walked several more blocks until she came to a small market on the corner. Going inside, she selected some necessities and paused over the produce. She could take all her meals at the café on the days she worked, but she liked to have fresh fruit in her room for an occasional snack.
Thunder rumbled ominously, and with one eye on the sky, she paid for her purchases and hurried from the store.
“You took a chance coming out on a day like today without an umbrella.”
Her spine stiffened as she recognized the voice. Without turning, she hurried even faster, to no avail. Nick merely fell into step beside her.
“Can I carry something?”
“No.” A few drops of rain hit the pavement before her. It was too much to ask that, given no encouragement, he’d disappear. He was much too tenacious for that.
With his hands tucked into the pockets of his custom-fit linen trousers, he strolled along, seeming unconcerned as the drops fell with increasing urgency. “Perhaps it’s difficult for you to believe, but I was raised as a Southern gentleman.” He reached over to pry one of the bags from her fingers. “It’s my duty to at least give the appearance of being helpful.”
It was her reluctance to touch him, not his perseverance, that caused her to relinquish her grip on the bag. The nerves were back, flickering just below the surface of her skin, and she damned them almost as fiercely as she damned the man beside her. “Do Southern gentlemen normally stalk women who have made their disinterest clear?”
“Stalk?” He seemed to give the word consideration. “That seems a harsh conclusion, given the fact that the market you were shopping at is directly across the street from my family’s offices.” She looked at the nondescript brick building he indicated. “We could dodge in over there, and wait out the rain.”
“Go ahead,” she invited, walking faster. The precipitation was growing heavier. She’d be soaked by the time she reached her apartment. But there was no way she was going anywhere with him.
“Now what kind of gentleman would I be, Amber, if I didn’t see a lady to her door?”
At the teasing words she whirled on him, wiping the rain from her face with a hunched shoulder. “It appears you would be a dense one, Doucet. Or maybe you’re the type who can’t stand the fact a woman isn’t interested. Is that it, huh? Is it the challenge you enjoy?”
He’d stopped when she did, met her gaze with his enigmatic one. “I enjoy you.”
Lightning sizzled, and Sara was unable to discern whether it was from the darkening sky or the chemistry sparking between them. She couldn’t look away from him. She was inexperienced, but not stupid. It would be impossible to misidentify the predatory gleam of male intent in his eyes, or the corresponding frisson of pleasure shooting down her spine.
The sky opened up then, and the ensuing downpour succeeded in dispelling their silent communication. “C’mon.” Nick cupped her elbow in his hand. The feel of his fingers on her chilled skin sent tendrils of warmth curling through her system, and although she tried to dislodge him, he held her firmly. Guiding her to a deep doorway up ahead, he allowed her to step beneath the protection it provided, then crowded in after her.
He was too close. Sara shrank back as far as she could, but if anything, he seemed to loom nearer. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture at his proximity. He shook the moisture from his dark hair, finger combed it carelessly.
Her throat clogged. The white shirt he wore was plastered against his body, and she could see through it to his chest, with its covering of dark hair. His soaked trousers clung to his hard thighs, leaving no doubt about the muscular strength of his body. She moistened her lips, which had gone inexplicably dry. Thunder boomed, and she glanced out at the street. All the other pedestrians had taken cover, and even as she registered the logic of the action, there was a part of her that was tempted to bolt, to take her chances with the elements in an effort to escape this man. These feelings.
“Amber.”
She didn’t want to respond to that low raspy tone, didn’t want to see the desire that would be stamped on his face. But her gaze raised of its own volition. And immediately the storm around them paled in comparison to the tempest between them.
Despite his earlier efforts, a lock of black hair had fallen across his forehead. His eyes were heavy-lidded, intent, and there was no mistaking the stamp of arousal on his face. It was there in the flare of his nostrils, in the skin stretched taut over his cheekbones. Her pulse leaped once before settling into a hard staccato beat.
His head lowered. There was no room to pull away. And even if she’d had the will to make a run for the street, it was doubtful that her legs would have obeyed the command to move. A strange lethargy had invaded her limbs, turning them weak and boneless.
She felt his breath warm her throat before his lips brushed against the pulse that was pounding there. Then that same barely perceptible caress whispered across her jaw, her eyelids, the corner of her mouth. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, and that fact somehow made the light contact more sensual. Restrained, but full of promise. She shivered against him, but not from the dampness. Heat flashed between them, enough that she imagined the air around them should fill with steam.
The world narrowed, to include only this moment. This man. She thought he could surely hear her heart slamming against her chest. Imagined she could hear his. Her lips parted as his mouth hovered above hers.
The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips, with a light deft stroke that had her shuddering. He rubbed his mouth against hers savoringly, as if he wanted to absorb her flavor and brand her with his own.
And because he was close, all too close, to succeeding, she found the strength to turn her head.
“I have to go.” She could barely form the words.
“Amber.”
She used her elbows to wedge herself past him, not daring to look in the direction of that dulcet voice.
“I want to see you tonight.”
The words sounded as though they’d been dragged from somewhere deep inside him. The blood pumped through her veins, and she struggled for composure. She’d never been in greater need of it. “I have to work.”
“Then I’ll come by for dinner.”
Without responding, she walked away as swiftly as she could without running. Running would have been useless, at any rate. There was no way to