Naked Thrill. Jill Monroe
“You feel it, too.”
She could only nod, and twisted in her seat so she could stare down the road and not at him. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry; she was having a serious case of want.
Hayden’s grandma was fond of sayings about closed doors leading to open windows—this morning had felt very much as if she’d run into a closed door, but that smile of his was like a fresh breeze through an open window.
“Hayden, I don’t want to get back to the city and forget all about this...this thing between us. I don’t know what it is, but I know it doesn’t happen. At least not to me.”
“Me, either,” Hayden admitted. She glanced his way, memorized every part of his strong profile because she didn’t want to forget this beautiful man. But then she didn’t really have to. She wasn’t playing the avoidance game this time. Last night, call it instinct or lack of inhibitions, but something had drawn her to this man. And so far that hadn’t been misplaced; he’d proven to be concerned for her and had given her space when she’d needed it.
Oh, Hayden could tell herself she’d stick with Mr. Abs because it was an adventure or that she wanted to make sure there weren’t any, er, indiscreet pictures that could derail her career, but if she were being truthful, intuition also told her she didn’t have to be guarded around this man.
She got out of the car to stand beside him. “Let’s find out what happened to us,” she said.
He flashed her that amazing smile of his and her skin grew warm. Memories of waking up in his strong arms and feeling the heat of his naked body against hers flooded her senses. Made her nipples tingle. But she had no memory of kissing him, breathing him in and tasting him. She wanted to change that. Right. Now.
“We could always do the old trick of making out to jog our memory,” he suggested, his voice playful.
She lifted a brow. “That’s an old tactic, is it?”
He nodded. “Tried and true, dates back way before the Jazz Age—”
Hayden cut off his words with her lips. He stood there rigid, his mouth unmoving. Then his arm encircled her waist, drawing her flush against his body. She pressed against him, and he groaned. His lips parted and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tasting coffee and pumpkin and something delicious that could just be Tony.
“You taste good,” she whispered against his lips.
“So do you. Amazing. Um...not that I’m complaining, but that came out of nowhere.”
“Not that you’d believe me, but I don’t usually indulge in my impulsive side. But any guy who uses the Jazz Age as an excuse to make out is a man I’d try to jog my memory with.”
“Actually I know all kinds of history,” he told her with a wink.
“All except ours. Speaking of...? Did you remember anything? I got nothing.”
He made a faux flinching movement that was too charming. “You got nothing? Surely I was better than that.”
She patted his arm. “Oh, you were a lot better—okay no. I’m not falling for that ruse. I’m keeping my opinions of your kiss to myself.”
“How will I know if I’m doing it right?” he asked, all innocence. Yeah, like this man held any doubts about his technique.
Hot. Sensual. Carnal. And those were just the first three words that popped into her head to describe the kiss. “I’ll tell you what, if I come back for more, then you’ll know if you’re doing it right.”
“Fair enough.” He eyed the front seat. “As uncomfortable as this car is, I think I should drive.”
“Why?” she asked.
His eyes softened, and a rueful smile touched his lips. “Because if we’re caught I can make them believe you had no idea I’d stolen the car. Only one of us gets arrested.”
It was strangely chivalrous. Hayden reached up, sank her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck so she could draw him nearer. The reality of his kiss was way better than the fantasy.
“Besides,” he said, his gaze dropping from hers to study something far off in the distance. “I’ve been in jail before.”
JAIL. BEFORE?
Hayden’s hands fell.
“Yeah. That usually does it,” he told her, his voice tired. Tony turned away from her and just like that, the figurative window slammed shut, too.
She squinted against the sunshine as she tried to read his body language. Back straight and hands fisted at his sides. Didn’t need that one lone psychology class to diagnose him as tense and agitated.
Had she been too quick to trust him? Was he really an ax murderer or the mastermind of a Ponzi scheme? What she needed was answers. And maybe an escape route.
Okay, before she got all weird about this, people were arrested all the time for bizarre stuff. Not returning a library book for twenty years. Changing the clothes on a mannequin in full view of the public. She’d even heard a crazy story about how a police officer had dragged a lady—with her toddler strapped to the car seat—right to the clinker, all for a few days’ expired driver’s license.
Did people still use words like clinker?
Focus.
People also got arrested for grand theft auto, burglary or kidnapping. Check. Check. And check?
She could reach for his hand and talk this out with him, or reach for the keys and zoom down the road away from him. Both made sense. But if Tony had planned to hurt her, he must be pretty inept because he’d really missed his chance. In fact, when he’d had the opportunity, he’d kept his distance, had in fact taken near-Herculean efforts to avoid touching her and done everything a man could do to put her at ease in what must have been an incredibly awkward situation for him, too.
He turned as she approached him, her footsteps crunching the leaves and twigs scattered along the side of the road. He towered above her, and when his brown eyes met hers, they gave no hint of his thoughts.
“I’m so used to the people around me being aware of my past, that I forget how people can judge.”
Okay, that was defensive—and an overreaction. “Listen, I’ve known you, what? Half an hour fully clothed? No one makes good decisions naked. Besides, you don’t get to casually throw out that you were in prison, and then get all sensitive when I’m nervous about it. Understandably nervous.”
He sucked in a deep breath and his brow furrowed. This must be deep-in-thought Tony. Considering she’d only known him half an hour—fully clothed—she’d already seen him, chivalrous, considerate, playful and very, very naughty.
Or was that naked. Definitely naked.
Focus.
“You’re right,” he said.
“What’s your angle here?”
Tony shook his head, but a small smile toyed with that übersexy lower lip of his. “You are the suspicious one. No angle, just truth.”
Then he shrugged.
A shrug? As if what he’d said was no big deal? Hayden had never thought of herself as the suspicious type, but what kind of man tells a woman she’s right? Things weren’t adding up.
“So you’re saying you were wrong a moment ago?” she asked, just to make sure she’d heard him correctly.
Tony nodded, then ran his palms down the denim material of his borrowed shorts. “Hayden, this doesn’t have to be so hard. Take the car. Take the cash. I can walk into town. Just leave