Page 29 of Close Pursuit

Oh, Lord. There went his Lycra underwear. Yowza. The good doctor was blessed in every single department of his life. She spun away quickly lest he catch her looking at his package. The temperature in the cave felt as if it shot up at least ten degrees as sexual heat abruptly filled the air.

“I’m not kidding about your clothes,” he said grimly from behind her.

Which would be worse? Getting naked at the same time he was or waiting until he was fully dressed again and forcibly undressed her? Wow. That was about a toss-up.

A tiny part of her loved the idea of him tearing her clothes off of her…maybe it was the whole caveman vibe coming out of her deepest, darkest DNA. But she didn’t have any spare clothing and needed what she had on to stay intact. Practical necessity won out and she pulled her pink turtleneck over her head reluctantly.

Ohmigod. He was watching her. And he was stark naked. Gloriously, unconcernedly so.

He’d already seen her in her bra—less than her bra. This was no big deal, right? They were both medical professionals and completely accustomed to seeing the human body. Except her heart was jumping in her throat and her hands shook like leaves in a storm.

She reached for her jeans and unzipped them. Pushed them off her hips reluctantly. Heat blossomed in her face as her lace thong was revealed. She could literally feel his blazing hot stare taking in her pert rear end. Men had been commenting on her derriere since she’d been old enough for it not to be creepy. She knew it was firm and high and lush enough to turn men on without Alex having to tell her so.

“Nice.”

“Could you at least be a gentleman and turn your back?” she blurted.

“I’m a lot of things, but a gentleman is not one of them. You owe me sex, anyway. I’m eventually going to see you naked, so why not now?”

Because she barely knew him. Because he was naked, too. Because part of her wanted him to take advantage of the situation, and she was a big, fat chicken about that part of herself.

Fantasizing about a dark, dangerous man like Alex Peters was one thing. Being naked and alone with him for real was another thing altogether. She didn’t want it to be that way, but it was. She talked a big game, but she couldn’t handle a man like him.

Still.

The promise of sex hanging thick and heavy in the air pulsed between them, pulling her toward him. An urge to run her hands over that magnificent body, to pull him to her, to make love with him, surged within her, startling her. Sure, she felt attracted to guys at work and joked around with her girlfriends about jumping various guys’ bones.

But that was all in fun. This compulsion originated low in her belly, deep and primordial. Lust in its purest form. Mindless. Insistent.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured low.

She resorted to mumbling, “You’re making me strip in front of you and you have to ask that?”

Something warm and soft dropped around her shoulders, making her lurch. It smelled of sandalwood and spice. His coat. “Sometimes I forget what an innocent you are. Wear this until I check out your clothes.

The driving need she’d experienced at the site of his naked body subsided, and she all but cried in her relief At having his coat draped over her as she tossed her thong and bra over her shoulder to him.

Was she still innocent in spite of her best efforts to get people to let her grow up?—

--What if other people weren’t preventing her from growing up? What if she was the one choosing not to? Chagrin roared through her. A real man was within arm’s length, naked or close to it, and she owed him sex. All she had to do was reach out and take it. And yet…

And yet. Fear held her back.

Alex worked in silence, turning each piece of clothing inside out, running his fingers carefully over each seam, examining tags, and pockets, and anywhere else a burr might be attached.

“How big would a tracking device be?” she asked curiously without turning around to see if he was still starkers.

“Depends on how big a battery it has and how long the person who plants it wants it to work. A short-term device, say for a single day, could be the size of a pin-head. Something a little longer term, like I’d expect to get used on us, might be the size of a grain of rice.”

“Long grain or short grain?”

He chuckled briefly. “Okay. Your lingerie is clean.”

A big, tanned hand emerged over her right shoulder, her lacey bits dangling from his fingertips. She snatched them from his hand and maneuvered into them awkwardly underneath his coat. Who would have guessed two tiny scraps of cloth could make her feel so much better?

Her shirt took longer, and her jeans longer still, to check. But eventually, he passed them over her shoulder, and she was safely clothed once more. But no sooner had she pulled the shirt back over her head than Dawn started to fuss.

“She’s hungry,” Alex announced.

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