Page 66 of Angel In Armani

“You’re wearing a towel?” He flopped back on the bed, put his arm over his eyes for a moment while he pictured it. Sara with wet hair curling around her shoulders. Smelling like soap and warm woman. Ker-riiiisst.

“Well, I was, but then I took it off so I could put some lotion on.”

Warm, slippery woman. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

He focused on the aching heat in his groin. “Definitely.”

“So maybe you should take that towel off.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He tossed the towel across the room. Then moved up the bed so he could lie against the pillows. “One towel gone.”

“Mmmm,” she said. “I like that image.”

“You know, we both have smartphones, you don’t have to imagine.”

“Ah, but imagination is sexy, Dr. Angelo. Don’t you know the research that says the brain is the biggest erogenous zone? Like right now. Right now I’m imagining you lying there, naked. Hard.”

His mouth went dry. “You are?”

“And I’m imagining what I’d do if I was there with you.”

“Are you going to tell me what that is?”

She sucked in a breath. Then he heard a rustle, like maybe she was settling back into the pillows, too. “Does that mean you’re up for phone sex after all?”

“I am one hundred percent in favor,” he said fervently and lay back to see where Sara’s imagination might take him.

Sara smiled as she watched the cab pull up outside her apartment two weeks later. Sneaking around seemed to be working pretty damned well. Even if she did say so herself.

Several nights a week, Lucas arrived on her doorstep, they had incredible sex, and then he left before daylight. Okay, so that part wasn’t quite so good, but she could live with the incredible-sex part.

Even better, they continued to rack up the frequent flier miles. So far they’d flown to Florida and back six times in that same two weeks and she’d delivered him to and from JFK each time.

So she was getting flight time. Not quite as much as she would have with Charles Air, but more than she would with no helo. Air time and hot sex. What more could a girl ask for?

Beside her Dougal woofed and bounded toward the door, delighted, as usual, that his new idol had arrived.

Which could maybe be attributed to the fact that Lucas was smart enough to always arrive with jerky or dog biscuits or, once, a truly gross pig’s ear to keep Dougal occupied while they did other things.

Just as Dougal began to bark with more enthusiasm, the buzzer sounded and Sara darted over to let Lucas in. She made Dougal sit, which he did with one of his protesting little whining grumbles that sounded as if they should be coming from something the size of a Pekingese, not a Lab.

And then she opened the door and Lucas stepped through. Beside her, Dougal started whuffing with happiness.

She was about to throw her arms around Lucas and kiss him hello when she realized he was carrying two grocery bags.

“What’s this?”

“I thought I’d make dinner,” he said. “We’ve been eating in hotels and restaurants and airports for two weeks. I want real food.”

“You cook?”

“I do,” he said gravely.

She shook her head. “You really are trying for the too-good-to-be-true award, aren’t you, Dr. Angelo?”

“Am I in the running yet?”

---