Double Exposure. Vicki Thompson Lewis

an undertone of her basic scent.

      Sure enough, that last was his favorite. He’d read about pheromones and had dismissed the idea because he’d never experienced that moth-to-the-flame effect the researchers talked about. He was experiencing it now. He wanted to bury his nose between her breasts and take a deep breath.

      As she worked he listened to the soft music of her bracelets and the rhythm of her breathing. Her breathing was uneven, and that gave him hope that this encounter would evolve into an outstanding experience before the night was over. He wondered if pheromones worked both ways. What a bummer if he wanted to inhale her scent from top to bottom and she had no such urges.

      “Does that hurt?” she murmured.

      “No.” His nerve endings registered the sting, but he was so busy dealing with his growing arousal that he barely noticed.

      “You wouldn’t tell me if it did, would you?”

      “No.”

      She sighed, which caused her breasts to tremble invitingly. “That’s what I thought. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’d hate for these scratches to get infected. You of all people shouldn’t let that happen. You’ll set a bad example.”

      He wasn’t sure exactly why an infected scratch would set any kind of example to anyone, but he decided not to question her reasoning. Now wasn’t the time to disagree with this wonderful creature and risk spoiling the mood. “Don’t worry. I heal fast.”

      “Good.” She set the soapy cloth down, picked up the other one and rinsed the soap off his forehead. She wiped carefully, making sure she didn’t allow soapy water to drip into his eyes.

      He gripped his knees harder. He’d never been this close to a woman he wanted without acting on his impulses.

      Then she blew softly on the scratch, her breath sweet and cool, driving him right out of what was left of his mind. He closed his eyes and a sound escaped him—part moan, part whimper.

      “I’m hurting you.”

      “No.” What hurt was his penis, which was protesting the confinement of his jeans. He rested his left hand casually in his lap to disguise the evidence.

      “Let me put the ointment on. That will take the sting out.” She smoothed something creamy over the scratch.

      She must have leaned closer because he could feel her heat. He was afraid to open his eyes for fear he’d be looking directly into the scooped neckline of her T-shirt. A guy could only take so much before he cracked.

      “That’s better,” she murmured. “Now for your arm.”

      From the movement of air, he knew she was no longer hovering quite so close, so he dared to open his eyes.

      She held the soapy washcloth in her right hand. “I guess you can stand, now.”

      No, he couldn’t. Not without major groin pain. “How about if I just prop my arm on the counter?” He leaned over and rested his right forearm on the cool marble.

      “That works.”

      Instead of watching her doctor the scratch on his arm, he stared straight ahead and tried to will his erection back down. After the first aid would come the massage, and he’d better not start that procedure already fully aroused.

      He tried to remember the last time he’d had such a quick response to a woman and he couldn’t think back that far. Maybe it was the environment he worked in. He’d heard that people who worked in a doughnut shop quickly got sick of the doughnuts because they were always available. Beautiful women were always available on a movie set.

      Still, it didn’t make sense that he’d fly across the country and become instantly attracted to Kate simply because she lived and worked in Providence instead of L.A. He had to go back to the pheromone theory. She smelled…perfect. And he was so turned on he was about to embarrass both of them.