She turned to face him. “Do this.” She drew her brows low over her eyes, pulled the corners of her mouth downward, and crossed her arms.
He mimicked her.
She pointed at him. “That’s exactly what you looked like the moment I approached you at the airport in Anchorage. It’s pretty much the expression you wore the entire flight to Captivity. That is not an expression of enthusiastic welcome. You didn’t want a female attorney.”
“I didn’t want an attorney who looks like her idea of outdoor adventure is lunch on the patio at Spago’s. The minute I saw you, I realized you weren’t going to pass for a tourist. Not the kind of experienced climber, hunter, or environmental enthusiast who flies here solo, in the off-season, to pit skills against Mother Nature. You’re not that person, and everyone here was going to recognize as much at a glance. My expression was worry. I didn’t know what I was going to do about you.”
Apparently, she had a litigator in her somewhere because she couldn’t resist doing a cross-exam. “So, you’re telling me it wasn’t the fact that I’m a woman that troubled you, it was the fact that I was dressed inappropriately—in your opinion—for a trip to Captivity.”
His expression went carefully neutral. “It goes beyond wardrobe—designer luggage, lack of gear—but yes. I think.”
“Well, thank goodness I wasn’t a man. Imagine the ripples it would have caused in Captivity if you’d been forced to introduce one of my well-dressed, designer-luggage toting male counterparts as your heart’s desire.”
His lips quirked, and the small contraction of muscles emphasized an array of entrancing little lines at the corners of his eyes—hints of a time when his smile had crinkled his eyes regularly. “I wasn’t confronted with that situation, but I won’t swear I wouldn’t have done it. I can promise the kiss would have been a lot less enthusiastic.”
Well, at least he was being a decent sport about it. She, on the other hand, was suddenly exhausted. And embarrassed. “Just forget I said anything. Seriously. It was highly inappropriate of me. I’m excellent at my job, which is why Chuck sent me. You can trust me to do my very best legal work on your behalf. I’m not going to be distracted by my…um…”
“Itch?” he supplied, stepping closer, sending his body heat into her personal bubble.
She closed her eyes against shivers. “That’s a good word for it. No offense, Trace, but I’m not going to risk my biggest professional goal for a…a…little fringe benefit.” Other parts of her weren’t as goal-oriented as her brain, apparently, because cells all over her body obeyed the invisible pull of him, stretching toward him, opening to him, like spring flowers blooming under the warm rays of the sun.
He didn’t move closer, but his voice wrapped around her as effectively as a pair of strong arms. “Izzy?”
His breath caressed her cheek. Hearing him call her by her nickname in that low rumble made the moment feel even more intimate. She licked her lips. “Yes?”
Oh dear. What was she saying yes to? His exhale tickled over her damp lips this time. She parted them, and…
“I respect your decision.”
Huh? “I, um…” She blinked her eyes open and fell straight into the deep blue seas of his. “What?”
“As much as I want to strip you out of those city-girl clothes and show you exactly what kind of fringe benefits I can provide—how long, how hard, how generous, and however you like them best—I respect your decision.”
His mouth was so close, every word his lips formed became a promise they’d soon claim hers. Such a potent promise that it took a moment once they stopped moving for the words he’d uttered to sink into her lust-dazed consciousness.
“Respect my…?” Your decision, Izzy. The one that keeps your career on track.
Right. That one.
She straightened. Smoothing her shaking hands over her sweater, she cleared her throat. “Th-Thank you.” Relief. What she felt just now had to be relief. Not regret.
He stepped back, so composed she might have resented it, but the shadow of sadness was back in his eyes, the slant of his brows. “It’s been a long day. If it’s okay with you, I’ll drown my disappointment in the shower.”
“Oh. Sure.” She ran her still-not-quite-steady hand over her braid. “Go ahead. I’m probably going to check my emails and call it a night.”
He nodded and started across the room. A few steps past her, he turned. “Hey, Izzy?”
“Yes?”
He lowered his brows until the frown lines appeared between them and firmed his lips into a deliberate scowl that caused prickles of lust under her skin. “I do feel obliged to point out there’s nothing little about my benefits.”
With that, he turned and sauntered down the short hall.
She dropped her head and groaned. There certainly wasn’t. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Six
Hands. Huge hands slid down her body, dragging long, blunt-tipped fingers over her skin, lighting up nerve endings as they gently raked her chest, grazed her nipples, then swept along the sensitive undersides of her breasts.
Did that take care of the itch, Izzy? A low, disembodied voice echoed in her ears. Strangely familiar. Enticingly familiar. Dangerously familiar.
No. It’s good, but I need more.
Those hands went back to work, scrubbing down her sides, her hips, taking long strokes down her legs.
Better now? Strong fingers shackled her ankles.
She shook her head. More. I’m aching now. Aching like nobody’s business.
The unseen hands parted her oddly weightless legs—parted them from ankle to thigh. Short, smooth fingernails scraped up her shins, over her knees and along the insides of her thighs. Up. Up. Up. Her breath came in gasps under the heavy weight of pleasure in her chest.
Izzy? Fingers paused at the nethermost regions of her splayed thighs.
Uh-huh? Words were suddenly so difficult.
Is the ache…inside you?
Oh, yes. Yes, it is.
Would you like me to ease it for you?
Please, Trace.
I respect your decision.
The words echoed in her ears, waking her with a guilty jerk. Swallowing the needy groan forming in her throat, she flopped back on the sofa and lay there, panting, damp, and yes, aching, in utter darkness while reality rushed in to slap some sense into her.
She was on the sofa in her hotel room in Captivity, having sex dreams starring her client. Was he there? Had he heard?