Turning Up The Heat. Tanya Michaels

      With their bodies so close, could he feel the quiver that went through her? She was turned on, and the longer they stood together, the more the ache of arousal intensified. She was tempted to shut her eyes, as if that would provide some escape, yet she couldn’t look away from the picture they presented. He was broad shouldered and tall, but not enough to loom over her—a good height for kissing without craning her neck or having to stand on her toes. His naturally tan skin was a strong contrast to her pale complexion; their bodies tangled together would be like caramel-swirled cheesecake. Not that she planned to say any of that out loud.

      She gave herself a mental shake, trying to regain her composure. Heath was giving her his time and effort to help her develop sensual confidence, and whether she thought this was the way to go about it or not, she owed him her cooperation. She obediently studied her reflection. “I see an attractive—”

      “Beautiful.”

      Her lips twitched. “I thought this was about what I see.”

      “Well, since your vision is obviously fuzzy, I’m helping. Like glasses or contact lenses. Try again.”

      “I see a beautiful redhead with light brown eyes—”

      “Your eyes are like antique gold, treasure capable of making men lose their minds.”

      “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered, but it was difficult not to smile at his extravagant words. Was there any truth to them, or was all of the embellishment strictly to elevate her self-image? She looked hard at the mirror, attempting to view herself the way he described, to block out the chipped nail polish on her toes and the five extra pounds she didn’t need and the way her bun had been knocked crooked from resting her head on the couch.

      She reached for the rubber band that held her hair back. “I should have worn my hair down.”

      He caught her fingers. “I would normally agree with you—you have great hair—but you have a graceful neck, too.” As he spoke, he trailed his knuckles across the curve of her neck. “Gives a man ideas. About doing this.”

      Transfixed, she watched him lower his dark head toward her, anticipation coiling tighter until his teeth grazed an excruciatingly sensitive spot below her jaw. Her legs buckled, and his hands came to her hips, holding her steady. The woman in the mirror was flushed, her lips parted, her hardened nipples visible through the silk of the tank top. The skirt she’d judged as practically conservative earlier in the evening now seemed like a tantalizing length. She couldn’t help imagining Heath dropping his hands to the hem, inching the fabric upward so that his fingers could skate over the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. She trembled. He turned his head, his gaze momentarily meeting hers in their reflection, then he trailed openmouthed kisses down the slope of her neck, stirring pleasure inside her that was almost dizzying in its intensity.

      Her eyes slid shut, her total focus on the dual sensations of his mouth hot on her skin and the rock-hard erection pressed against her. She shifted her hips, unable to resist rubbing against him. His grip on her tightened, and he sucked in a breath before nipping at her collarbone. She might not be an experienced seductress, or the type of woman who had leather in her lingerie drawer, but she’d sure as hell aroused Heath.

      You and how many other women?

      The unwelcome thought chilled some of her ardor. “Wait.” Her eyes opened, and she swayed forward, not quite moving out of his embrace, but no longer subtly rocking against him. It wasn’t that she disapproved of Heath’s affairs; his love life was between him and the women who’d eagerly shared it. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to become one of their number.

      His hands fell to his sides, and he rested his forehead lightly on her shoulder, not meeting her gaze in the mirror. She was grateful. She felt too raw to face him just yet.

      But she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Wh-why did you do that?” Even though she’d asked for his help, she didn’t want those kisses to be an act of charity. “I know we’re pretending to date, but there’s no audience here.”

      “The more accustomed you are to me touching you, the more comfortable you’ll be when there is an audience. That’s not the main reason I kissed you, though.”

      “No?”

      “I wanted to,” he said simply. “Selfish hedonist, remember? You felt damn good in my arms. But I’m not so selfish that I don’t realize it’s been a long day for you.” He stepped away. “First a shift at work, then coming over here. I should let you get home to bed.”

      Just hearing him say bed caused her to feel achy and overheated. She nodded hastily. “Yeah, I should probably go.” Tonight had given her a lot to think about.

      “But I’ll see you Thursday?” he asked. “For lunch?”

      She’d almost forgotten about his awards luncheon. Technically, she worked Thursday, but she could go in a couple of hours late. The afternoon crowd was sparse. “Of course. I can meet you there.”

      “Wonderful.” He moved to the side, watching as she slid her feet back in her discarded sandals.

      “Lots of people from local restaurants will be there,” he added, sounding annoyingly composed. Her senses were still rioting. “Cam will hear all about how I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You have my word, I’ll be very convincing.”

      Of that, she had no doubt. For a brief, scorching moment, he’d nearly convinced her that she was the sexiest woman he’d ever held in his arms. Phoebe was beginning to think fooling others wouldn’t be the difficult part. No, the trick would be not letting herself succumb to the illusion.