Free Can't Get Enough by Sarah Mayberry Page A

to be….
    "Can I help you with anything?"
    She started out of her daze, suddenly realizing she was staring
unashamedly at his crotch. Flaming embarrassment swept up her body in a
burning wave, and she was powerless to do anything about it. She was a
good blusher, she'd learned to her detriment over the years. Even her
ears glowed when she was totally humiliated. Like now. She felt almost
incandescent with heat and she resolutely kept her gaze Page 38

    away from his as she fought to control her own body.
    But the more she thought about it, the more she seemed to sizzle and
glow, and she tried not to think about how guilty and pathetic she must
seem to him.
    At last the flush seemed to dissipate, but it left her feeling
unbearably hot. Her blouse felt sticky, confining and oppressive.
Briefly, she flicked an envious gaze across at Jack's bare chest, only
to be caught in the knowing beam of his blue eyes.
    A small residual flood of color washed her cheeks as she tore her gaze
from him. He was laughing at her! Why, oh, why had she stared at him
like that? Was she so hard up that the first bit of decent male action
to come her way sent her into zombie-drool mode? Even if that male
action was attached to the world's most annoying personality?
    She flapped her blouse ineffectually, succeeding only in moving around more hot air.
    "Take it off."
    It was a dare, not a suggestion. A challenge, and the expression on his
handsome, smug face told her that he knew she wouldn't take him up on
it.
    Her hands were on her buttons before she could think. One button, two,
three. And he just sat there, his lips quirked to one side, apparently
vastly amused by everything she did. She tried to remember which bra
she'd put on this morning. Not the stretched-out one with the pills and the no-nonsense, no-trim elastic. Please, not that one. She wanted so badly to peek beneath her blouse to check, but then he'd know. The man was psychic. He'd definitely know.
    Four buttons, only three to go now. A patch of black bra showed in her
peripheral vision. Maybe if she glanced down casually, just as though
she wasn't sure where the next button was? She risked it, sighing with
relief when she saw her unexciting but presentable plain black bra. It
was a simple, smooth cup style that was more about good design and
elegance than frills and see-through bits, and she was damn grateful
that she'd put it on this morning. More confident now, she slipped the
last button loose, tugged her blouse open and began working on the
buttons on her cuff.
    He was still watching her, she could feel it. Trying to pay her back
for gawking at him earlier, obviously. She could handle it. It was just
like wearing a crop top during training, and while she wasn't into
showing off her body and flashing it around, she was quietly confident
that it was in good shape. She shrugged the damp silk from her
shoulders and slid it off her arms as nonchalantly as possible.
Determined to prove she was not the uptight prude he thought she was,
she sighed loudly.
    "You're right, that's much better."
    She even circled her shoulders around, as if she was warming up for a swim. His eyes were glued to her, and she was loving it.
    "Yep, that's definitely better," she repeated, mostly just to annoy
him. Smiling sweetly at him, she spread her shirt out on the scratchy
industrial carpet, then rerolled her jacket into a tighter pillow.
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    "I'm going to see if I can get some sleep," she told him blithely. He
was still just sitting there, an unreadable expression on his face.
Probably didn't know what to say now that she'd proved him wrong.
Typical.

    5

    JACK CONCENTRATEDfiercely on the idea of puppies frolicking in fresh
snow. He conjured up an image of a fresh alpine stream, clear water
burbling over mossy rocks. He even resorted to imagining a photograph
of his grandmother, the one where she was looking very stern and
schoolmarmish . None of it stopped the rest of his body from whooping
it up over the