Page 28 of Undercover Billionaire

After what felt like an instant, they arrived home, Drake following close behind as she unlocked the door and let them in. He latched the deadbolt behind them. "You must be tired."

"Tired doesn’t quite describe this level of exhaustion." She eased onto the living room sofa, stretching sore muscles. "We're just getting started. Tomorrow will be more of the same, and once my cousin gets here, it'll be even worse. I'm going to turn in early tonight."

"Sounds like a good idea. Want to take a shower?"

Um… what?"A shower?"

"Yeah."

With him?"Naked?"

"That's usually how it's done, yes."

Then yes, very much. Absolutely yes. Without a doubt, yes. We have a winner – please come to Kaitlyn to collect your prize!"Of course not!" she choked out. "Obviously there's been a miscommunication. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, but I'm not… that is, I don't think we should… you know."

Drake stared. "You know I meant alone, right?"

Well, crap."Of course, I did! I mean, obviously."

His lips twitched. "I asked if you wanted to take a shower, because if you don't, I would. Alone. If that's all right with you?"

Of course, it wasn't all right. Why should he take a shower alone when she was here, all ready and willing?"Go ahead," she managed, covering her eyes with still chilled fingers. She heard rather than saw his departure, after a long hesitation. What was he thinking? No doubt he knew every wicked thought in her mind.

Unfortunately, the separation didn't dampen her imagination. Sound carried far in the small home, and unbidden images formed realistic scenes to accompany them. When he shut the bathroom door, her mind's eye saw a sexy promise gleaming in his eyes. The sounds of undressing drifted through the air – rustling fabric, shifting cloth,unzippering. Right now, he would be unbuttoning his shirt, taking away the thin layer that covered his muscular chest, his hands working in graceful moves. She could see his lean and powerful stomach, covered with definition and peppered with dark hair. Was anything sexier than Drake wearing low riding jeans and nothing more?Yes!her mind screamed as he began to remove his pants.

"I can’t do this!" She sprang from the couch, grabbed her camera and busied herself printing out and arranging the day's photographs around the house, closing her mind to all thoughts of her too-masculine employee, with orwithouthis clothes. But the shower faucet turned on, and her imagination again took control. Once more, she pictured the warrior, only now he was in the shower – glistening wet andnude. The water dripped down his gorgeous face and his powerful neck. Riveting down his lean stomach, all the way towards his…

A ringing sounded, and she gasped. "What am I doing?" She was supposed to be strong, the one woman in Greenfield immune to the gorgeous guy phenomenon. Or at least that’s what she claimed. Drake shattered that rule, along with every other.

She picked up her cell phone, only it hadn't received a call. However, Drake's phone was plugged into a charger in the corner, its lit screen revealing the source of the ringing. What should she do? By the time she told him, it would transfer to voicemail. Of course, she shouldn’t answer it – invasion of privacy and all.

Only…

Perhaps this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, the chance to discover the truth behind the man of mystery. Besides, it had been a violation of privacy when he entered her bedroom that morning. Maybe he’d be glad she answered it, grateful even. With that hasty yet shaky logic, she snapped up the phone. “Hello?”

"Is Mr. Drake available?" The words were short, clipped and terse.

"Mr. Drake?" she replied slowly.

"Yes, Mr. Drake," the caller snapped. "Is he available?"

"No, I’m sorry, he’s not."

"I should have known. You must be one of his secretaries."

One of his secretaries?Kaitlyn started to correct him, but the man just continued talking, "It figures. I'll leave a message. Do you have a pen and paper; this is going to be long?"

Confusion and suspicion weighed down her chest. Who was the caller, and why would he assume she was a secretary? Plus, why was he calling Drake "Mr. Drake," just as Miss Ida had? She grabbed for a pen and paper when the phone flew from her grasp. A powerful warrior loomed above her, wearing a thunderous expression – and not much else.

She. Was. Caught.

Drake was dripping wet, with only a towel to cover the necessary parts. Her throat dried at muscles upon muscles, power and strength she couldn’t have imagined. Yet his face was the most striking, with a truth that shattered rational thought. This man was not a simple actor. He had to be more… so much more. She suspected it before, yet now it was as clear as his fury. Who was he?

Not a word pierced the silence. Finally, Drake turned and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen where she could hear none of the conversation. Moments later he was back, and the phone had disappeared. She stood tall as he came to face her, towering above her. The acute anger was gone, but his expression was no less intense. A weaker person may have backed away, but that had never been her style. She wanted the truth, and she wanted it now.

With all the courage she could muster, she boldly asked, "Why did that man call you Mr. Drake?"

He did not respond. He looked her up and down, and a lump suddenly formed in her throat. His body glistened in the light, powered by diamond droplets on a tanned torso. His arms held uncontrolled power, biceps and triceps proving physical strength as extraordinary as his mental abilities. His chest was defined and perfect, leading to a stomach that tapered down into a six-pack, reaching until the blasted towel took away her view. His chest rose and fell with controlled energy, but his face was the most beautiful of all, characterized by a strong jaw and piercing eyes. Right now, a storm filled them.

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