Page 25 of The Death Dealer

“Good night, Mr. Blane.”

The husky murmur shot straight to his groin. The shock was so great he jerked the door wider to stare. Oddly luminous yet heavy-lidded from sleep, her eyes were focused on him, and her soft smile caused his heart to beat faster. If she were any other woman, Trevor would believe she was purposely tempting him. Not her, though. Soleil didn’t know the power she possessed. The power she gained with every minute he spent in her company.

With a fleeting frown, she blinked and eased upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. The single syllable was brisk and gave away the lie.

After carefully marking the page, she set aside her book and pushed back the covers to stand. The lamplight illuminated her shapely figure through her nightgown, and Trev experienced another jolt.

He wanted to order her to get back in bed and pull the covers up to her chin, like some Regency gentleman from her silly novel, but all he could do was stare as she glided toward him. His mouth watered with the need to touch her, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because Soleil Stephens wasn’t the type of woman a man dallied with.

Dallied?

Oh, for fuck’s sake! He might as well use that ridiculous book of hers as a how-to guide to being a dastardly dull duke or overeager earl if he was going to use words likedallied.

She scowled, and his stomach dropped. He’d forgotten to screen his thoughts, and she’d likely received a direct line to his distaste for romance novels, in general. Although Trevor didn’t know Soleil well enough to predict her pique or dismissal of trivial things like tastes, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

But she dumbfounded him when she asked, “What makes you think I’m not okay with a dalliance?”

Her question froze him in place, and his pulse pounded harder.

“Are you?” His raspy voice revealed his desperate hope that she was.

“Perhaps.” Her eyes were lighter, flirtier, and yet penetrating as she studied him. It occurred to Trevor that Soleil was a watcher of people. If asked prior to that moment, he’d have said she was a bit self-absorbed considering her plant obsession. Hell, he’d watched her for a week before he was discovered. All her attention had been focused on checking soil, misting foliage, reading books, and eating bonbons.

He grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Her hair was deliciously tussled, and those previously luminous bedroom eyes of hers were narrowed, sizing him up for whatever sexual fantasies she had in mind. His hope was they were plentiful and he met the mark.

Of its own volition, his hand rose to touch her. He used his thumb to stroke her plump lower lip. “When you make up your mind, let me know, babe. Until then, you should probably get some sleep.” Leaning in, he followed the gentle caress with the briefest of kisses. “Good night.”

Soleil stood motionless,paralyzed with want. Her stomach filled with a thousand swirling butterflies, and their activity was so great, she felt queasy. How could one man be so certain of himself and his skills?

Yet Trevor was. His easy confidencescreamedBed God.

For once in her life, Soleil contemplated doing something daring. Considered stripping off her nightgown and inviting him to her bed with no expectations other than one night of bliss. Sure, he’d accurately guessed one-night stands weren’t her jam, but for him, she’d make an exception.

And likely wind up with a broken heart.

But oh, it might be worth it.

“I’m okay with a dalliance,” she blurted.

Trevor stopped halfway to his en suite bathroom, his spine stiffening as if touched with a hot poker. He remained that way for the longest minute, and Soleil held her breath the entire time.

Would he take her up on it?

“Not tonight,”his voice echoed through her mind.

Her disappointment was keen.

His finely shaped shoulders dropped, and he faced her direction. “I want to. Never doubt it. But I don’t believe you’re as ready for a fling as you’d like to think you are, Soleil. You should know, I can never offer more.”

“Why?”

Brows drawn together in a deep frown, he closed the distance between them. If she inhaled deeply, her breast would brush his chest. But he made no move to touch her.

“I’m not relationship material,” he said, and the statement was as flat as his suddenly world-weary eyes.

“Why?” she asked again. The need to understand him was driving her to push boundaries she never would with anyone else.

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