Free The Spellbinder by Iris Johansen

How odd. She was curiously breathless, almost shy, and there was a tingling in her palms as she gazed at the chestnut hair roughing Brody’s chest. “Don’t you want to shower?”
    He shook his head. “I always shower after the performance.” His smile was self-mocking. “Though I may feel the urge for a cold shower before morning.”
    Her brow wrinkled in a puzzled frown. “Does that happen very often?”
    “Not since I was fourteen. Come to bed, Sacha.”
    “In just a minute. I need to dry my hair a little more.” She set her clothes neatly on a maroon velvet wing chair, then sat down on her side of the bed and began to rub her hair briskly.
    “There’s a blow-dryer in the vanity cabinet.”
    “Is there? I never thought to look. It doesn’t matter. My hair is very fine and dries quickly.”
    “It matters.” Her head was enveloped in the towel, and she didn’t see the tension that tautened the muscles of his abdomen as he watched the soft orange jersey mold and cling to her smallbreasts when she lifted her hands to rub her hair. “It matters a hell of a lot.” His voice was hoarse. “Go get the dryer.”
    She lowered the towel, her dark hair a wild frame for her flushed, glowing face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m keeping you awake.” She jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom. She found the dryer and came back to the bedroom. “Do you know where the outlet is?”
    “There’s one in the bathroom.”
    “I’d rather do it here. It’s more companionable.” She came around to his side of the bed and looked behind the nightstand. “Here’s one.” She plugged in the hair dryer and sat down on the floor. She crossed her legs tailor fashion, facing him, and turned on the hair dryer. “Talk to me.”
    He pulled his gaze away from the silken flesh of her naked thighs and forced himself to look at her face. “You have a thing about being companionable, don’t you?”
    She nodded, holding the nozzle of the dryer to the left side of her head and lifting the curls with her fingers. “Oh, yes, I think it’s very important that we choose friends and become close to them. Otherwise it can be terribly lonely.” She looked at him soberly. “I think you’re very lonely, Brody.”
    “I wouldn’t say loneliness was my problem. I have too many people around me most of the time.”
    “But no one you let close to you. That can be even worse than being alone.” She switched the dryer to the opposite side of her head. “When Iwas a little girl, I was surrounded by other children, but sometimes I still felt isolated. I guess we all do. That’s when I’d close my eyes and think about what it would be like to have a real family of my own.”
    “Other children? Were you in an orphanage?”
    She hesitated. “Something like an orphanage.” She suddenly scooted close to the bed and turned around so that her face was hidden from him. “Will you dry the back of my hair for me? It’s always the hardest to reach.”
    He didn’t answer for a moment. “Hand me the dryer.” He swung his feet to the floor on each side of her as he reached for the dryer.
    She closed her eyes in purely sensual pleasure as the soft warm air caressed her nape and Brody’s fingers combed through the damp tresses. His naked legs were cradling her between them. Brody really had beautiful legs, she thought dreamily. She had known they were well shaped; the tights of his costumes outlined every muscle of his calves and thighs, but bare, they looked far more virile and brawny. His feet, planted on the deep blue carpet, were strong and shapely, and the tanned thighs on each side of her were dusted with fine, sun-lightened hair.
    “Are you asleep?” Brody asked.
    “No, I was just thinking what nice feet you have.” She leaned the side of her head on his thigh, letting the warm flow of air weave through her hair. His skin felt deliciously rough against her flesh, and she rubbed her cheek back and forth with catlike