Free Nobody Does It Better by Julie Kenner

left on.
    The course of the evening suddenly seemed more real.
    And appealing? She paused to consider, but her hormones rushed to answer. You bet.
    Common sense stepped up to the plate. Just because the room had a bed did not mean they had to put it to good use.
    Alexander must have picked up on her hesitation. "Second thoughts?"
    "No," she blurted, her hormones beating her pesky common sense into submission. Then she felt herself blush, embarrassed by her quick response. "I mean, please, come in."
    Paris wanted to roll her eyes at her awkward eagerness. She couldn't have been any less subtle if she'd ripped her dress off and thrown herself into his arms right then and there. That might be what she wanted to do, but such bold tactics lacked the proper panache. Besides, she was too much of a chicken.
    And you're not sleeping with him anyway, remember?
    She sighed. Somehow, she kept forgetting that tiny detail.
    As he stepped past her toward the bed, their arms brushed, sending enough current surging between them to set the building on fire. Could have, but didn't. Instead, all that energy, all that heat, centered in her stomach and her knees. Just one touch and he'd made her go weak.
    Feigning nonchalance, she leaned gratefully against the wall. Her bare back pressed against the smooth, cool paint that didn't even begin to lessen the red-hot passion pounding through her.
    He was standing there, right in front of her, so hot he should be burning a hole in the floor. So close Paris could feel his breath, could almost hear his heartbeat.
    This amazing hunk of fantasy material was there for her. What a coup. She was privy to a sexual coup. But she was pretty sure she wasn't the one calling the shots. He'd turned her on, mixed her up when she needed to concentrate. She needed to keep her head on straight, needed to strengthen her resolve before he destroyed her defenses without even saying a word.
    "I'm not going to make love with you," she blurted, as she sat back on the bed. Immediately she wanted to take it back, but couldn't very well do that. Not without admitting how much his nearness was messing with her head. And with the rest of her.
    She looked up at him, expecting to see shock or disappointment. Instead, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks for letting me know." He looked amused, damn him. Well, he wouldn't look nearly so confident when he realized how determined she was.
    "I mean it. No sex."
    "I believe you."
    "You do?" She frowned. She knew she shouldn't be disappointed with his easy agreement, but she couldn't help it. Alexander wouldn't give up so easily, not if he really wanted her. Alexander was too much of a rogue.
    Unless this man was just playing it cool, planning to lower her defenses for a sneak attack. That would be very Alexanderish.
    He kneeled casually in front of the minibar. "Nightcap?"
    "I'm … yes. Please."
    Then again, perhaps he was a gentleman and not a rogue at all. She shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts. This man and Alexander were all mixed up in her head.
    He popped the cork on a miniature bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass. "How about talking? Is that safe territory?"
    Talking? Talking was fine. Kissing would be even better. Kissing fell within her boundaries. But she couldn't really say so without sounding desperate. "What do you want to talk about?"
    "You're a writer, right?"
    She nodded, wary.
    He moved closer and passed her a glass of champagne. His fingers grazed over hers, intimate and purposeful, and any remaining doubts about his desire for her vanished in a puff.
    "I thought maybe you'd be interested in an intellectual evening. We could discuss literature."
    "Literature?" She didn't believe him for a second, but neither could she guess what he was up to.
    "Maybe Victorian-era erotic literature?" His voice had changed, it was lower, rougher. Suggestive.
    A trill coursed up her spine. How easy for him to reduce her to quakes and quivers. "I … I