Out Of The Blue. Jill Shalvis

      There. She’d said it. “Now will you help me or not?”

      “Hannah—” He swore again, and she imagined him sitting up in bed, hair as wild as hers, frustrated because he couldn’t strangle her. “Why are you doing this to me?”

      “So you don’t know how to do it either.” Disappointment hit her like a wave. Now what?

      A choked sound came over the phone. “Oh, I know how to seduce someone,” Michael assured her. “I’m just not sure I want you to know.”

      “Karrie told me all I have to do is flash skin, then kiss him, then flash more skin. That’s all. But it didn’t quite work, and now I’m wondering if—”

      “Wait a second. Back the train up. You flashed some guy skin?”

      “I tried,” she admitted miserably.

      “Who, Hannah?” He sounded tense. “Who is this you’re attempting to seduce? And why now, all of a sudden, are you tired of being a...a—”

      “A virgin,” she hissed. “See? You can’t even say it, you must understand why I don’t want to be it!”

      “Okay, look. I’ve got some time coming. I’ll fly in for the weekend, we can talk—”

      “No!” God, that was the last thing she needed right now, her big brother going all big brother on her. “Can’t you just tell me where I went wrong?”

      “Hannah—”

      “Please, Michael,” she whispered, suddenly, ridiculously close to tears. “I have to do this. I want to do this. I just need a...a tip. That’s all.”

      He let out a long, slow breath. “I can be there in a few days—”

      “No.”

      “I want to discuss this with you—”

      “No. Either give me a tip or go back to bed.”

      “Use a condom,” he said through his teeth. “Promise me.”

      “Done.”

      “Okay. What Karrie said.” He sounded strained. “It should work. God. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but despite what women think, we...men like a little romance too. Music, candles... Dammit, this is so stupid—”

      “No, it isn’t!” Excitement and renewed hope filled her. “I have candles—” She broke off at the knock at the bathroom door.

      Then came Zach’s low, unbearably sexy voice. “Hannah?”

      “Thanks, Michael,” she said quickly. “I’ve got to go.”

      “Hannah, wait—”

      “Love you.” She disconnected, stared at the door, chewing on her bottom lip.

      Romance. Music. Candles.

      She could do that.

       CHAPTER 4

      “I CAN’T LET YOU sleep on your own couch,” Zach said firmly, for the third time. “Take your bed. I’ll be fine downstairs.”

      “Oh, Zach. No. Not when this is all my fault. But it’s only because I—” Hannah looked at him, her eyes half closed, with soft shadows beneath them. She held herself in a way that told him she was every bit as tired as he was.

      No wonder. It was well past midnight and she’d probably been on her feet since early that morning, serving people, running around and taking care of the inn.

      “Come on,” he said quietly. “Time for sleep.”

      “Only if you stay here.”

      “On your couch.”

      “Yes,” she whispered.

      Both of them stood in her bedroom, staring at the bed in question, which was still a little mussed from Zach’s first attempt at sleeping.

      It was a vivid reminder of how Hannah had slid into it with him, how he’d come fully awake with her sprawled beneath him, locked in his arms.

      She was dressed now, having hastily thrown her clothes back on, but she hadn’t been dressed then, and he knew he’d never forget how she’d looked wearing nothing but a few scraps of silk. Or the way she’d looked at him, devouring him with her eyes as if she’d never seen anything like him.

      It’d been a long time since he’d felt that hard, fast shock of arousal, but he’d certainly felt it then, even as out of it as he’d been.

      Hell, he still felt it.

      Quickly, he glanced at her, wondering if she had any of the same thoughts racing through her mind.

      It was hard to tell, since she wouldn’t meet his gaze no matter how he craned his neck.

      Unfortunately, he wasn’t very in tune to women, at least at the moment. Living undercover as he had, within a tough crowd of gangbangers and basically the scum of the earth, he hadn’t even been in close proximity to a woman in a long time.

      Too long to possibly guess how to handle this.

      “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind going downstairs.”

      “I’m positive.” She flashed him a shaky smile, and moved over to her dresser. With a smile still pasted on her face, she lit a match and held it to the first of three candles she had there. “I mean we’re both adults, right?” She lit the second candle, then shot him another smile. “There’s no reason we can’t both— Ouch!” She dropped the now burned-out match and brought her fingers to her mouth. “It’s nothing,” she said before he could move toward her. “Do you like candles, Zach?”

      Zach figured he must have missed something in his exhaustion, because he definitely hadn’t followed her train of thought from the bed to candles. But there was no missing her nervousness. He lifted her chin with his fingers, planning on gently telling her to relax, that he would take the couch, and she the bed, and they could both get some desperately needed sleep.

      But at the feel of her soft skin, the strangest thing happened. Something close to an electric current jolted him, only it wasn’t painful. No, it was much worse than that, it was...nice. Warm.

      Which made it very dangerous.

      He wasn’t looking for nice and warm. He wasn’t looking for a woman to stare up at him as Hannah was, with wonder and awareness.

      Hell, all he’d been looking for was a bed. Okay, and maybe a woman, but someone else, someone...temporary. Hannah wasn’t a temporary woman, she was his sister’s friend, a woman who would always be around in some form or another because of that. That didn’t equal temporary, not in his book.