To Tame Her Tycoon LoverBy: Ann Major
Finally, she regained enough presence of mind to remember her towel. Scowling at him, she leaned down to get it and wrapped it around her with jerky, big movements, making sure she covered the moon-shaped scar on her abdomen first.
Even so, when she looked up, guiltily, warily, she found his male eyes still blazing too hotly with the unwanted memory of her naked body, and his gaze made her own nerves buzz. But covering herself only seemed to intensify the raw, unwanted intimacy between them.
Blushing while fighting not to remember those hot summer nights they’d shared in this very bedroom, she swallowed and tried to make her voice fierce and defiant. “You should have knocked, damn you.”
“Then you should have waited until I answered.”
“Yes,” he agreed, finally having the decency to look away. His gaze drifted over her desk that was littered with papers and index cards and photographs, some of him. “I should have.”
A flush of dark color climbed his cheeks when he saw the newspaper clippings of his own ravaged face. The shot, which he couldn’t stop staring at, had been taken shortly after Noelle’s death.
Why, oh why did I leave that particular picture out?
“I didn’t think,” he said. “I never thought you’d be…”
His angry blue gaze snapped back to her face. “Why didn’t you lock the door? And how could you just stand there…flaunting yourself, like you liked me seeing you.”
“Stop right there!” Heat engulfed her and not the good, soothing kind. This fire was a fury that devoured her.
“Damn you! This is not my fault! Nothing is my fault! You barged in here! And because you did, you found me stepping out of my shower, as I have every right to do…”
“Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right!”
“I’m not finished. For your information, I’ve been taking showers these nine years since I last saw you! And nobody else, not even in a war zone, has ever barged in on me! You’re in the wrong—not me.”
“Okay. So you said…repeatedly. Enough already.”
“No. It’s not enough. You were horrible to me in the past. You’re horrible now. You always act high and mighty because as far as you’re concerned, I’ll be poor white trash till the day I die. I wasn’t good enough for Jake or you…and nothing I ever do will change that.”
He swallowed. The muscle that moved in his jawline when he was upset jumped violently. “All right. I hear you. You made your point.”
She most certainly had, but since he still hadn’t bothered to apologize, she felt consumed by smoldering heat and indignation…and by other awful emotions she didn’t want to name. How could he still affect her like this?”
Despite her discomfiture, his changed appearance registered. Not that she hadn’t seen pictures of him in magazines and newspapers and on the Internet from time to time. He was a rich, important man. His wife’s tragic accident and funeral alone had received a vast amount of coverage last year, all of which Cici had hungrily devoured.
Still, it was different, seeing him this close, knowing his anger was partly due to the fact that he wanted to be done with her, just as she wanted to be done with him.
She assessed him coldly. No longer was he the wiry boy she’d loved or even the gray-faced man in the photograph on her desks whose obvious grief had almost made her feel sorry for him. He’d filled out. And he’d grown, as men often do, even more virile and attractive than ever.
He was close-shaven. He wore an expensive white shirt that was so damp from the heat that it clung to his muscular body in such a way that she couldn’t help admiring that he’d kept himself in shape.
He’d rolled up the sleeves, revealing strong, tanned forearms. His chocolate-brown hair might be shorter, but it still looked as thick and sexily tousled as ever.
To all who didn’t know better, Logan appeared a respectable, wealthy businessman. But she, who wished she didn’t know better, knew the wildness and the dangerous darkness that lurked beneath that suave, too-handsome exterior. Like herself, Logan didn’t mind the edgy thrill of risk.