Free Sweet Child of Mine by Jean Brashear Page B

treating her like some delicacy she’d never been. She was no fragile flower, no pale tea rose. She was a sturdy weed, not all that pretty, not very desirable, but strong. She endured.
    He made her feel so feminine, almost dainty. So protected. Even when she knew he was tempted badly, he’d always kept his strength under a tight leash.
    But what would it be like if Michael’s leash snapped? If he wanted her as badly as he made her want him? In this place, this jungle room, what if she possessed the power to enchant him past bearing? What if they were free to play outside the realities of their world?
    Fire raced over her nerves, across her skin, and made her burn. She could almost feel Michael’s hands on her body, could imagine sliding over him in this tub, lying beneath him on that huge round bed. Could imagine him poised above her, moss-green eyes gone dark with power—
    A knock sounded on the door. “Suzanne?”
    She scrambled from the tub so quickly that water shot from the jets and hit the floor. Frantically shefumbled for the switch, then tried to remember where she’d left the robe the hotel provided. She caught a quick glimpse of herself multiplied a hundred times in the mirrors.
    “Suzanne, are you all right?”
    Naked. Oh, God. “Yes.” She gulped, then finally spotted the fluffy white robe. “Just a minute.”
    Quickly she donned it, her heart racing a mile a minute as she tried to adjust from thinking about—
    No. Oh, no. She couldn’t let him see. It must be written all over her face. As she walked toward the door, she grabbed a towel, then flipped the lock and turned away, busying herself drying her hair, praying the towel would cover her face until she could compose it.
    Michael shoved the door open with his foot, so loaded down with packages that he could barely see where he was going. “Could you take this—” He fell silent.
    She was bent over, toweling her hair, and the view of her luscious behind made his mouth go dry. He jerked his gaze away, only to see the front of her reflected in the mirror. Her face was blocked by the towel, but the robe she wore gaped in the front just enough that he could see the upper curve of her breasts, the seductive shadow between.
    “What?” she asked, her voice muffled by the towel.
    All he could think about was that she was nakedbeneath that robe. It took him a minute to recover his powers of speech. “Nothing.” Resolutely he walked past her, regret that he couldn’t linger and look shadowing every step.
    He dropped several of the packages on the bed, holding on to the box of pizza at the bottom and the sack of champagne. Taking them over to the table, he risked one glance in the mirror beside him and couldn’t decide whether to cheer or groan that there was hardly an inch of wall space—or ceiling, for that matter—not covered with the reflective means to torture a man who wasn’t here for this room’s anointed purpose.
    He could be. He sure would like to be.
    But he wasn’t. Couldn’t be. If ever there was a woman he needed to keep his hands off of, Suzanne was it.
    “There’s a hair dryer. Wouldn’t it be simpler?” he asked. She was still bent over, toweling her hair. If she didn’t stand up straight pretty soon, he was not going to be responsible for his actions.
    She didn’t answer.
    “Suzanne? Hello?”
    Finally, she straightened, lowering the towel slowly. Her face was red from being bent over so long, but the flush extended down to where the robe gapped even more.
    He turned away. Quickly. Not one of his friends would believe he was trapped for the night with thisdelectable woman and had no intention of touching her.
    Hell, he couldn’t believe it himself.
    “There’s not much to choose from right now. It’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so I grabbed us a pizza. I hope pepperoni’s all right.” Not that he cared about the stupid pizza. His mouth was suddenly full of sawdust, and he doubted he could choke down