Oh, it wasn’t as though he and Jessica were waxing poetic about astrophysics or the effect of global warming on penguins in Antarctica. But that was just the point: he’d had those discussions—or similar ones, at least—with certain women without a single erotic nerve ending tingling to life. Just as he’d found himself burning with passion and rolling around on the sheets with others without a single intelligent thought passing between them.
And then there was Jessica Madison. Nearly anonymous housekeeper at a resort he’d only decided to patronize a week and a half ago. If he’d booked a suite at the downtown Hilton instead, as had been his first inclination, he never would have bumped into her.
Damned if he wasn’t glad they’d been booked up and someone had recommended Mountain View as a second choice. This dinner alone was worth every penny of the added expense and every extra mile it took to get into downtown Portland for his scheduled meetings.
Jessica wasn’t just lovely to look at, but entertaining, too. Not only conversationally but in her silent self-assurance.
The hair and jewelry choices were the physical aspects of that, he supposed; a way to tell the world without words that she knew who she was and didn’t care what anyone thought of her or how she lived her life. But whether she realized it or not, her body language conveyed the same message.
Once she’d spotted those crab cakes and decided she wanted them, it had been difficult to draw her attention away from the plate. And when he’d told her she could have them all to herself, she’d set about eating them as passionately as an artist struck by sudden creative inspiration.
No worries about how she’d looked or what he might think. Which wasn’t to say she’d been a ravenous wolf about it. Her table manners had been flawless. But she’d enjoyed her meal the way he enjoyed a quick bout of neat, no-strings lovemaking.
And there it was. Sex. No matter where his mind started to wander when he got to thinking about this woman, it always seemed to circle right back around to S-E-X.
It didn’t help that she was stretching now, lifting her legs onto the long seat of the chaise and leaning back until she was nearly sprawled out like a virgin sacrifice.
Blood pooled in his groin, heating, thrumming, creating a beat in his veins that matched the one in his brain. Pa-dump. Pa-dump. Pa-dump. His heart, his pulse and his head kept the same rhythm, one that he could have sworn was saying, Do it, do it, do it.
He was very afraid “it” could be defined as something ill-advised. Like kissing her. Touching her. Taking her to bed.
Indulging in another sip of wine, Jessica let out a breathy sigh and crossed her legs—those damn tempting legs—at the ankle. She rested her arms on the armrests and her head back against the chaise.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been doing all the talking and not letting you get a word in edgewise.”
Something he’d noticed, but certainly hadn’t minded. He’d much rather listen to her speak than himself. On his best day he was a man of few words, and his only response now was to arch his brow and lift his own wine to his mouth for a drink.
“So …” she prompted. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do? Why are you in town? How long will you be staying at our fine establishment?”
“How long will you be making my bed and restocking my wet bar, you mean?” he retorted with a grin.
She chuckled, the sound filling the night air and doing nothing to quiet the pounding in his blood, his head, his gut.
“I don’t stock the bars,” she told him, returning his grin. “They don’t trust us near the pricey liquor—because they’re afraid we’ll either steal it … or drink on the job.”
He laughed at that. “I might be tempted to drink, too, if I had to clean up after strangers all day. Especially the kind who stay here. I imagine a lot of us come across as quite demanding and entitled.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not so bad. For one thing, I don’t usually have to interact with you demanding, entitled types. Most of the time the rooms are empty when I clean, and I get to work alone. The pay could be better—and for rich people, you guys sure can cheap out when it comes to tipping—but I like my coworkers, and the view is stunning when I get the chance to stop and actually enjoy it.”
He inclined his head. “Duly noted. In the future, I’ll be sure to leave a generous tip anytime I stay out of town.”
“Every morning before you leave your room,” she clarified, “not just the day you check out. Shifts change, and the same maids don’t always clean the same rooms every day.”
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t completely hold back the hint of a smile. She was a pretty good advocate for her fellow service workers.
“I’ll remember that. Have my tips so far been acceptable?” he asked, half teasing, half genuinely curious of her opinion.
She slanted her head, thinking about it for a minute. Then she shrugged a shoulder. “You’ve been doing well enough. And tonight’s dinner definitely makes up for any corners you may have cut.”
“Glad to hear it,” he drawled.
“You never answered my question,” she said after a moment of silence passed. The only sounds in the growing darkness were the muted voices of guests far off in the distance, perhaps strolling along one of the lodge’s moonlit paths, and the occasional chirp of crickets.
“Which one?”
“Any of them. All of them.” She uncrossed her ankles only to cross them again the other way. “Just tell me something interesting so I won’t feel like I monopolized the conversation tonight.”
“All right,” he replied. Pushing away from the stone barrier, he strode toward her, dragging the second chaise closer to hers one-handed and sitting down on the very end to face her.
“My family is in jewelry. Gems and design. Maybe you’ve heard of us—Bajoran Designs?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re Bajoran Designs?”
“I’m one of the Bajorans of Bajoran Designs,” he clarified. “As much as I might feel or wish otherwise at times, it isn’t a one-man operation.”
“Wow. Your jewelry is amazing.”
“You’re familiar with it?”
“Isn’t everybody?” she retorted. “Your ads are in all the magazines, and on TV and billboards everywhere. Didn’t you design a bracelet for the Queen of England or something?”
“Again, I didn’t, but our company did.”
“Wow,” she repeated. And then her head tilted to one side and she raised a brow. Her lips curved. “I don’t suppose you have any free samples you’d like to share.”
The sparkle in her eyes told him she was teasing, but he wished suddenly that he had more than just a few proposed design sketches with him. He wished he had a briefcase full of priceless jewels surrounded by exquisite settings to regale her with.
He would love to see her draped in emeralds and platinum or diamonds and gold. Earrings, necklace, bracelet, perhaps even a small tiara to tuck into those mostly blond curls.
He could think of any number of his companies’ designs that would look stunning with what she was wearing. But he imagined that they’d look even better on her while she was utterly naked.
Naked in his bed, her skin alabaster against dark sheets, her hair falling loosely about her shoulders. And at her lobes, her throat, her waist … maybe her ankle, too … his