Million Dollar Stud. Meg Lacey
generally do.”
Silver cleared her throat. “I brought towels, too.”
Darcy looked down at the damp towel covering him from waist to midthigh. “Now, towels I’m really going to need. This is my only one.” He glanced up, catching Silver as she focused her attention on his hips. If she kept staring at him, she was going to see more than she bargained for.
She jerked her gaze up to meet his. The atmosphere suddenly turned steamier than his recent shower as they stared at each other. Neither said a word as Darcy’s eyes roamed over her face, over those high cheekbones, catlike eyes, tilted nose. He stopped at the lips. She had a mouth shaped for giving pleasure, the top lip a perfect bow, the bottom one plump and sensuous. As he stared, her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment before releasing it. He wanted to catch that ripe, moist lip between his own teeth and nibble until she opened wide. He tried to keep his thoughts hidden, but the way the towel was creeping up in the front, he was pretty sure she had a good idea what he was thinking.
Silver tightened her grip on the bundle in her arms and exhaled. “Well, I—I should…”
Darcy followed her lead, trying to bring the situation back to some type of normality before he said the hell with it and threw her on the bed. “It’s nice of you to deliver these in person. I would have come and gotten them.”
“My mother asked me to bring them down right away. She wanted you to feel at home.”
“That’s very kind of her.” He sent her a teasing look. “And what a dutiful daughter you are to respond so promptly.” He didn’t know why he was continuing to goad her. Was it to see if she was still as impulsive underneath that ladylike exterior as Tater had indicated? All he knew was he wanted her to lose control, not give him that smooth, practiced smile designed to keep him at arm’s length.
“Don’t push your luck.”
He grinned. “I generally have a lot of it to push.”
Silver glanced away. “And the ego to go with it, it seems, Mr. Darcy.” Was that a smile at the corner of her mouth?
Darcy stepped closer and cupped her chin, turning her face back to him. “Please, just call me Darcy, remember?”
“Your name could be Quasimodo for all I care.”
Absently, his thumb caressed her chin as he watched her. “You can call me that if it makes you happy.”
“That wouldn’t make me happy. The thing that would make me happy is for you to go somewhere else.”
He dropped his hand. “Why? You need help here, from what I’ve seen. So I’m here to help.”
“We need help, yes, mucking out the stables. Not a new manager. The only new manager that’s supposed to be here is me. That’s why.”
“I don’t think your father sees it that way, does he?”
She didn’t answer him for a moment. Then she warned, “I’ve got my eye on you.”
“How convenient.” His lifted his brow. “And how very forward of you, Ms. Braybourne.”
She gave him a look that was partly suspicious, partly nervous. “What do you mean, convenient?”
He smiled. “What do you think I mean?”
She licked her lips, his eyes following every move. “I think you’re flirting with me.”
“When I start flirting, you’ll know it. I’m very good at flirting.”
Silver took a sudden step backward, hugging her bundle tighter. She didn’t realize how close she was to the wall, and she cracked her head against the knotty pine.
“Oh.” Darcy winced. “That must have hurt.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Your eyes practically crossed.” He stepped closer. “Here, let me see if there’s going to be a goose egg.” He smiled into her eyes, stunned to see they were the brilliant light green of spring grass. He reached for her, tipping her head so he could feel for swelling. Her hair fell forward and he fingered a strand. “I wondered what this would feel like. It looks like spun silk.”
“You shouldn’t be—”
“Now, now, easy…” he crooned to her, as if she were a contrary horse. His fingers pressed here and there, caressing as much as searching. He was so close he could sense her beginning to tremble, much as a mare might before a stallion. Involuntarily, his hands pressed down as he stepped a bit closer to her.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. Is that where it’s sore?” He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her in his arms. Unconsciously he stepped even closer.
As his body touched hers, Silver seemed to come back to life—and regain her attitude. She lifted her head and slapped his hand away. “Yes, that hurts. Stop pushing on it.”
Stepping back slowly, he smiled. “I think you’ll live, but you might want to put some ice on it.”
“Thank you.” She hugged the towels closer as her eyes darted down his body. “And you might want to put on some pants. Your towel is slipping.”
“Oops.” Darcy grabbed his towel like a lifeline and attempted to regroup by growling in a soft suggestive tone, “You really want me to put on some pants?”
Do I? Silver would have much preferred to glide her hands down his sleek, sexy skin than tell him to cover up. “Well, if you don’t, I think it’s going to get mighty drafty soon.”
He grinned. “I don’t mind a bit of a draft. It’s a hot day.”
Silver gritted her teeth at the superb male confidence in that grin. The fact that he was such a prime specimen only made it worse. Darcy reminded her of her black stallion. The elegantly sculpted muscles, the breeding and the wild untamed spirit equaled beauty in Silver’s eyes. Combine that with black hair that curled just a bit at the edges, eyes as dark as coal, tanned skin and a strong, finely chiseled face, and it was enough to make a woman go weak at the knees. Her eyes swept over him. Under other circumstances she’d give her grandmother’s pearls to make love to the man. Or more accurately, to have a bout of the hottest sex she could ever imagine. Instead, she flattened him with her stoniest stare—or at least tried to.
Darcy grinned. “Ah well, if you insist.” He walked over to his bag, rummaging inside to extract a pair of jeans. Turning back, he toyed with his towel, and said, “You might want to turn around so I don’t shock your maidenly sensibilities.”
Silver decided to call his bluff, mainly out of contrariness. She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall, hoping she looked perfectly at ease. “You won’t shock me. I’m used to looking at masculine appendages.” Of course, they all belonged to stallions—but a penis was a penis was a penis, wasn’t it? Just because the one in question belonged to the most exciting man she’d ever met shouldn’t make a difference. She knew her reasoning was completely faulty, but couldn’t back out now. It was a point of pride.
Darcy stared at her for a moment, his eyes bold and challenging. Then, he turned around, dropped his towel and stepped into his jeans. Casually, he turned back to face her, holding her gaze as he slowly buttoned them.
“Covered enough for you?”
The jeans sat low on his hips, exposing his tanned, rippling stomach muscles. Silver was tempted to slip her fingers inside, just to see if he really had himself reined in as tight as he was pretending. She stared for a moment longer. She could feel the ache deep inside her as she contemplated her next move. Playing games with this man had an element of danger that could get to be a habit.
Her eyes met his. “Quite satisfactory, Mr. Darcy.”
“We’re back to mister, are we?”
“What