She walked back to the bedroom and surveyed her purchases. Clothes had never been high on her list of priorities, but admittedly, staring at the three sets of matching bras and panties laying on the bed had her feeling a bit giddy. Usually she bought functional white cotton, or whatever else was on sale.
And fancy sweaters? Almost never. Until today. She picked up the red off-the-shoulder number that had been an impulse buy, and rubbed the soft cashmere against her cheek. Damn, it felt good. Better than her best sweatshirt that had taken a year and twenty washings to soften.
She couldn’t stand it another second. She unbuttoned and unzipped, and then pushed the jeans down to the floor. While she stepped out of them, she pulled off her top and unhooked her bra. Should she go with red panties and bra with the sweater, or try the black set? Nah, she’d go all red. What the heck.
Her sudden excitement confused her. She was acting like her airhead sister. Not that Emily would be giving up her jeans or sweatshirts, but hey, she was in New York. She was supposed to have fun and throw caution to the wind, right? That’s what this trip was all about.
She pulled on the silk panties, quite certain she’d never worn anything this skimpy. It felt kind of weird, barely covering anything, and she hoped she didn’t have to keep picking the fabric out of her butt. Good thing she was giving it a trial run before wearing it in public.
The bra was absolutely dreamy, with satiny cups and a beautiful lace edging. With a simple adjustment, she actually produced some cleavage. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and grinned. Striking a sexy pose, she leaned forward and pursed her mouth. Without some color on her lips, she looked like an anemic fish, and she burst out laughing.
Straightening, she reached for the sweater and was startled by a knock at the door. But then she remembered she’d called housekeeping for more towels in anticipation of another sumptuous bath. She found the white fluffy courtesy robe hanging in the bathroom, slipped it on and opened the door.
It wasn’t housekeeping.
She swallowed and automatically stepped back. “Nick?”
“Hi.” He gave her a slow lazy smile that sent the blood roaring to her ears, her heart thudding to her stomach, her knees instantly weakening.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice remarkably calm. In the dim light of the cab he’d been good-looking. Up close and in full view, he was drop-dead gorgeous.
“Am I interrupting?”
“How did you know my room number?”
“The front desk.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to give out that kind of information.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably not.” His smile broadened, and she knew that there was no way the two young women manning the desk would’ve denied him anything. His gaze flicked to the front of her robe. “Sorry. I guess you were expecting company.”
“Only housekeeping.” Dumb admission, she realized too late. She tried to cinch the robe tighter, but couldn’t find the sash. Glancing down, she saw that she hadn’t secured the belt and the robe gaped a couple of inches. Not much, but enough to give him a peek of red silk and lace. She swallowed a gasp and quickly gathered the front of the terry lapels.
He looked away and said, “You should’ve checked the peephole before opening the door. It’s a nice hotel but this is still New York.”
“Good advice. I’ll be sure to remember.” Heat smoldered in her cheeks. She knew her face was as pink as a summer rose. Not much she could do about it. Except act nonchalant. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.”
Holy crap. She stepped aside, opened the door wider and held on to the doorknob for support. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to come in. More like state his business and be on his way. Although what he could possibly want from her she couldn’t fathom.
“I’ve never been here before,” he said, glancing around at the sleek modern black-and-white furniture and colorful abstract art on the walls.
She slowly followed, fists clenched around the belt of her robe, her gaze glued to his broad back, absolutely certain she’d gone out of her mind. Had she really just let a strange man into her room? Albeit a stunning, well-dressed one, but come on. This was so not her.
But wasn’t this the point of this vacation? If she wanted to get laid, she’d eventually end up with a man she barely knew in a room somewhere. After all, she’d gone through the trouble of splurging on new lingerie and even bought condoms.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
The condoms. Sitting in full view on the nightstand. Sexy lingerie spread across the bed. Oh, crap.
4
EMILY RUSHED AROUND to face him, placing herself between him and the bed. Not only could she not have been more obvious in her attempt to block his view, but her effort had also been in vain. He was well over six feet, and could see right over her head. Which was exactly what he did, his hazel gaze flickering over the lingerie buffet and then landing in the vicinity of the nightstand.
“Um, I didn’t catch why you’re here,” she said, ordering herself to stay calm and cool. He’d already seen everything. Nothing left for her to do but gather her dignity.
He met her eyes, his lit with brief amusement before he schooled them blank. “I think you might have left something in the cab.”
“I don’t think so.” She thought for a moment. Everything she’d bought was accounted for, and she had her purse. The bag with her books she’d left in the bathroom for her bath later. She stared at his empty hands. What was this guy’s angle? She stepped back, wishing she hadn’t let him in.
He promptly reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and produced the distinctive hot-pink book. “I found this on the floor where you were sitting.”
She stared incredulously at Erotic New York in bold black letters, and her first instinct was to deny the book was hers. Lifting her chin a notch, she accepted the book, nearly jumping when her fingers brushed his palm. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“You really shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”
He shrugged, and she caught a brief whiff of his musky scent, rugged and masculine and far too intoxicating. “I was only a few blocks away.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward.”
He smiled. “I thought about leaving it at the desk, but I figured you might prefer a personal delivery.”
“Yes, I think so.” She slipped the book into her pocket. “You see, I’m a copy editor and I keep an assortment of research material and—”
“Hey.” He threw up his hands. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“No, of course not. Look, I’d offer you a drink but I don’t have anything up here—” The words were no sooner out of her mouth when her restless gaze fell on the minibar. “Except what’s in there,” she added lamely.
“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”
“Really?”
He seemed taken aback, and then gave a small self-derisive shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” She touched her hair, instantly remembering what a fright it was. “How about you wait for me in the bar while I get dressed?”
His disenchanted expression said he wasn’t fond of the idea, which