Hardly aware at first, she began to move her hands. Over her collar-bones, down her sides to the curve of her waist, the firmness of her abdomen. She barely noticed the funky rhythm any more. It had been a long time since hands other than her own had touched her naked skin.
Luke’s hands.
She slid her palms over her breasts, felt them grow heavy as her nipples tightened. Her flesh swelled and moistened, her blood thickened and the sweet pull of arousal tugged at her womanhood.
She could’ve got lucky tonight. She had no doubt whatsoever that the man who’d paid ten thousand dollars would’ve come to the party and eased the ache.
If she’d opted to be his partner.
Why couldn’t she take her own advice and have a fling as she’d told Carissa to do? She had a drawerful of sexy underwear at home, something pretty to wear beneath that no-nonsense uniform she wore every day. The only guy who ever saw it was Adam when she did her laundry and he didn’t count.
She turned and saw her reflection in the glass window. Her hands dropped to her sides. What a sad sight you are, girl. And what are you doing? Even if it was teeming with rain and there was no one living within a seven-kilometre radius and a car’s lights would alert her to any arrivals…
A sudden shivery thrill rippled through her, as if someone had traced a fingernail down her body from neck to navel to… Hands rising automatically to shield herself, she peered into the gloom. Nothing but rain. She’d been without a lover in too long, that was all, and seeing Luke again had reawakened those lustful thoughts.
She shook the feeling away and turned back to the fire, reached for her bra and panties that no one ever saw. She had a meal to check on, wine to uncork, a welcome smile to cultivate.
* * *
He was going to freeze his balls off out here. Probably a good thing, considering the naked woman on the other side of the glass was Melanie.
Shaking the moisture from his face, Luke hunched his shoulders inside his rain-soaked jumper as he stood several feet away in the sheltering dark of the dripping eucalypts. He could still feel the residual gut-punch that had knocked him off-centre when he’d seen her enter the living room, wrapped in nothing but a towel.
He’d taken that in his stride—it had, after all, been a big towel. Heat still prickled his skin and sweat tracked a path down his spine even as the rain soaked through his shirt and sweater. Then, by God, she’d had to go and drop the damn thing. Not drop exactly, more of a slide, like a gloved hand over porcelain.
But unlike any normal healthy male who hadn’t had a woman in a while, he didn’t watch. Nope. He didn’t notice the way her breasts with their wine-dark nipples swayed in time with the music as she moved. He didn’t see the tiny birthmark on her left buttock. He knew nothing about the way her hands moved over satin-smooth skin.
Hell.
He fisted his hands inside the pockets of his tailor-made woollen trousers and glared up at the sky, letting the rain pelt his face. Anything to cool the beat of his blood and block the image that continued to dance behind his eyes.
He could hardly knock now and alert Melanie to the fact that he’d seen her naked and—he did a quick check—yep, she still was.
Never mind that he’d been standing here for five minutes hammering on the door before she’d appeared—a futile effort over that rock concert going on in there. And that he was probably going to catch pneumonia.
His hopes for a home-cooked meal and quiet evening of solitude going over his father’s business accounts—well, it wasn’t going to happen. Not after the temperature-elevating sight he’d witnessed. He scowled into the trees. Why had he let Adam talk him into this? Because a week ago he hadn’t known Melanie was his flatmate, that was why.
He shouldn’t have sent the limo away before he’d got inside. He should’ve brought an umbrella. And a spare pair of trousers. He should not have come an hour early.
Progress, he noted, glancing back over his shoulder. Finally. He breathed only marginally easier when he saw her reaching for her underwear. Her purple barely there underwear. The sight as she slid those panties up her thighs only added fuel to the fire in his blood.
When he looked again she was dressed and preparing something at the kitchen workbench, her hair a flow of ebony gleaming under the down-lights. For the first time he noticed the aromatic scent of something hot and spicy—red meat, onions, a hint of garlic.
He shook the water from his hair, sluiced it from his face with a hand and picked up his bag. Time to let her in on the surprise.
* * *
Melanie frowned at the door. Was that a knock? It was possible with the wind and music that she hadn’t heard the limo pull up, but no lights had beamed through the windows, no doors had slammed shut. It looked dark and lonely and wild out there.
There it was again. A definite knock. More insistent. And no wonder—it was pouring.
She turned off the stereo on her way, slicked her hair over her shoulder and, keeping the security chain on, she cracked open the door. The light shone on the figure of a big man glistening with water.
‘Good evening.’ Luke’s voice.
Luke’s face.
Luke’s eyes fixed on hers, and looking…hot.
For a stunned second she couldn’t move. Some part of her brain registered that he wasn’t damp—he was soaked, and that there was no limo in sight. Desperation had her hoping for a reasonable explanation that didn’t include him winning her prize.
But no. Shock waves of chills and heat chased through her body while he produced a card with a water-smudged number twenty-seven and held it out to her. ‘Seems I won this retreat for the evening.’
Adam, I’m going to kill you. ‘How did you get here?’ A tight, breathless moan rose up her throat.
He jerked a thumb at the track. ‘I let the ride go. Ah…I was… I’m a little early. Sorry.’
Which meant… Her whole body quivered with that implication as her eyes darted to his. ‘How much too early?’
His eyes glistened with arousal…but it could have been a trick of the firelight or water dripping from his lashes, carving waterfalls in the creases bracketing his nose and mouth. Couldn’t it?
Fat chance. She’d been caught out.
Oh, cripes, just let the man in. Her numb fingers slipped on the metal, rattling the chain as she slid it off and pulled the door wide.
She stood aside, wincing as his shoes made squelchy noises on the floor. Their gazes remained locked as he toed them off. His expression was too carefully schooled to be anything but contrived. He’d obviously been stumbling around in the dark for the past…how long? On further consideration she decided she didn’t want to know.
Her eyes left his to take a slow and thorough inventory of the damage. ‘You need to get out of those wet things. You do have a change of clothes…don’t you?’ In that slim business case? He’d brought a business case to a romantic rendezvous? Except that he’d come alone, a fact that was only now seeping through the brain fog.
‘I’m afraid not.’ Grim-faced, he raked a hand through his hair, scattering droplets.
‘There’s a clothes dryer, they’ll be dry in no—’
‘Forget it, it’s wool and an old favourite.’
When she looked up he’d already hauled the steel blue jumper and shirt over his head, leaving his chest gleaming in the foyer’s down-lights. Rugged,