Free Dodging Temptation (The Retreat) by Avery Flynn

her pillow? Yeah, that sounded more like what she ’ d dream about tonight—if she could even sleep.

    D odge walked a little more bowlegged than usual down the hall toward his suite. Tonight had gone better than expected with her agreeing to the interview…and, if he was honest, a little worse. He couldn’t shake the niggling doubt her soft moans had triggered. Either Harper was an expert at pretending to be the nearly innocent ingénue or she really was. Was it possible his grandfather had suckered her into being his spy or was that just his hard-on talking? It had to be the boner. He was never wrong when it came to business. Never.

Chapter Six
    T he knock on Harper ’ s door at seven in the morning would have woken her up from a dead sleep. However, since all she ’ d done all night was toss and turn because of an itch she couldn ’ t scratch, the rapping was only a reminder that she hadn ’ t slept, because Dodge Loving had shaken something loose inside her that she doubted would ever fit perfectly back in its former place.
    “Room service,” a female voice called out.
    Stifling her disappointment that it wasn ’ t Dodge on the other side of her door, Harper hustled across the room and opened the door a crack. “I didn ’ t order room service.”
    The smell of fresh bacon, scrambled eggs, and orange juice that wafted into her room made her wish she had, though. Who knew sexual frustration could leave someone totally and completely famished?
    “Compliments of Mr. Loving.”
    “For me?”
    “Yes ma ’ am, for you.” She turned the cart laden with silver-dome-topped plates away from Harper ’ s room. “Of course, I can return it if you want.”
    Her stomach protested with a yowl. “No, that ’ s fine. ” She opened the door.
    The attendant wheeled the cart in, stopped near the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, and removed the silver domes covering the plates. “We have bacon from the local Watson Farms, scrambled eggs with a dash of paprika, fresh baked biscuits and…” She lifted the smallest dish cover revealing an ice cream sundae. “A scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough with extra whipped cream and cherries.”
    Looks like she hadn ’ t been the only one who couldn ’ t stop thinking about last night and the possibilities today held. Excitement prickled her skin, giving her just the shot of adrenaline her sleepy brain needed to be fully awake.
    “Thank you,” Harper said, barely remembering the manners her proper mother had drilled into her.
    “You’re welcome. ” The attendant held out an envelope. “From Mr. Loving.” She turned and walked to the door. “Whenever you ’ re finished, call the front desk and we ’ ll remove the tray from your room.”
    Harper mumbled an okay as she slid her finger under the envelope ’ s seal and then withdrew the single white sheet of paper.
    Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the way you sucked in your bottom lip when you came last night, and all I could hear was your soft moans. This breakfast is my way of bribing you in hopes of seeing and hearing more of you tonight. Until then, I have everything set up for you at eight thirty a.m. in the main library. Thank you for last night and this morning.
    He didn ’ t sign the note. He didn ’ t have to; she ’ d know who ’ d sent it based on the handwriting alone with its forcefully formed capital letters denoting a dominant, determined personality. So what kind of surprise was waiting in the library at eight thirty? She couldn’t wait to find out.
    Harper scooped up some whipped cream on her fingertip and sucked it off, wishing Dodge was here so she could see his reaction—the fire and hunger that had blazed front and center last night and wound her up tight enough to…well, get off on his leg. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. Holy hell. What had she been thinking? She hadn ’ t—and for someone who ’ d learned about proper decorum in the cradle, the whole thing was a