His Final Seduction. Lori WildeЧитать онлайн книгу.
He smelled it in her scent—earthy, spicy, real. He felt it on his skin where she shook his hand. Pure energy, forceful and compelling. And he saw it in the swing of her long dark purple hair and in that sassy little ink art peeking between the top of her low-rise jeans and the hem of her T-shirt.
The sight of that tattoo hardened his cock and startled the hell out of Jake. He hadn’t had such a powerful reaction to a woman in a long time. Not since Amanda had left him. Not since before Afghanistan.
At the thought of the war he’d left eighteen months ago, Jake grabbed up his bag filled with camera equipment and followed the rest of the group toward the waiting bus that would take them to the Eros resort nestled in the Hollywood Hills.
Normally, he didn’t let himself get distracted from his work, but a woman like her could make any man forget his own name. And he didn’t like it. Not one damned bit. He got the feeling she had only one speed and that was balls to the wall. He wondered if she slowed down for anything.
The idea of finding out held far too much appeal. He wasn’t about to take her out on a date. Miss Bodel was going to find herself sadly disappointed if she thought she could just say the word and he’d fall right into line. Obviously, she was accustomed to wrapping men around her little finger, but she hadn’t counted on Jake Stewart. Nobody told him what to do. Not anymore. Not since he’d left the air force.
What if she’s the saboteur who’d been messing around with Taylor Milton’s resorts?
Jake canted his head, watched her boobs bounce jauntily as she mounted the steps to the bus. His boss, Dougal Lockhart, had told him to suspect everyone. Guests, employees, even resort security. No one was above suspicion. And Jake was damned good at watching, which was why he liked looking at the world from behind the lens of a camera.
His talent at video photography was the reason why Dougal and Taylor had decided his skills would be best suited to an undercover assignment at the Hollywood resort, making people’s voyeuristic fantasies come true at the same time he provided undercover scrutiny for Eros.
Some of the other air marshals at The Lockhart Agency seemed to dislike their undercover assignments; Jake however, found himself enjoying the opportunity to go behind the camera and watch the world from that angle. He learned more from watching people than from conversing with them. Even when he was around others, being behind the camera gave him a sense of aloneness and privacy that he prized. It also allowed him the opportunity to process his feelings and impressions.
Could Avery Bodel be a saboteur? Nah, highly unlikely. She didn’t have a poker face. Or a poker body for that matter. He’d seen the flare of sexual interest in her eyes and he certainly noticed the way her nipples beaded under her bra when they’d touched. His instincts told him that with this woman, what you saw was what you got.
Then again, Samson never suspected Delilah and look what happened to him.
Forcing aside thoughts of the spunky Miss Bodel and her luscious body, Jake boarded the bus for the trip to the Eros resort.
He felt an itch to take a camera from the bag and start filming Avery, just so he could figure out what he thought about her. He splayed a palm to the back of his neck. Stop thinking about her. He had a job to do and he didn’t let anything get in the way of his work. Not even a delicious morsel like Avery.
They arrived at the resort and got checked in. Jake enjoyed seeing the guests’ reaction to the over-the-top glitz and glamour of the resort. It put him in mind of an R-rated version of the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Lavish fountains, sexy movie posters, provocative music piped in through the sound system, clips of erotic scenes being played out on television monitors scattered throughout the resort. As guests checked in, 9 1/2 Weeks was on.
He walked up to Avery, who was in line for the registration desk. “About that date—”
“Pick me up at eight,” she said. “And take a razor to your chin. I’m not a fan of stubble burn.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy as hell?”
“All the time.” She batted her lashes.
“Yeah, well, this dog doesn’t jump when you snap your fingers. Sorry, I’m otherwise occupied. I can’t make the date.”
She didn’t appear the least bit perturbed. “You’re standing me up?”
“I am.”
“I can see why you’re not married.”
“How do you know I’m not married?”
“For one thing, no ring. For another thing, I asked the bus driver.”
“You asked about me?”
“Of course. If we’re going to be dating, I have to know you’re not married. I don’t date married men. I got burned once, never again.”
“We’re not dating.”
She simply smiled at him and stepped up to the registration desk as the clerk called, “Next in line.”
“We’re not,” he repeated.
“Uh-huh,” she said mildly.
God, but the woman was irritating. He wasn’t going to stand here and argue with her. He already had an assigned bungalow. He didn’t have to wait in line. Shouldering his bag, he stalked off and he could swear he heard her giggling behind him.
Irritated, he headed for the back exit, wondering what it was about the woman that had gotten under his skin. He didn’t like feeling this way. Emotions were messy, troublesome things. He preferred to keep himself above the fray. And now this woman had him squelching emotional impulses right and left.
He let himself into the bungalow decorated to replicate a 1940s era movie set and dumped his bag on the metal table. The table had a green Formica top that reminded him of the one that used to sit in his grandmother’s kitchen. Then he took his gun from the holster strapped to his leg and laid it beside the camera bag. He made a quick call to check in with the Lockhart Agency. After that, he moved toward the bathroom. He liked cool showers after a long flight.
But he never made it to the shower. As he passed through the bedroom, he noticed the blinds were open. He moved across the black-and-white tiled floor to draw them closed. Always the watcher, he peeked outside first.
In the bungalow across the way, the blinds were open, as well. The distance between the two dwellings wasn’t more than three feet and he could see right inside the other bedroom.
What he saw froze him to the spot with his hand wrapped around the swivel rod of the blinds. His cock hardened, rising up to strain against the zipper of his jeans.
In the bedroom next door, Avery Bodel was stripping off her clothes right in front of the open window. Her back was to him as she pulled her shirt over her head and gracefully tossed it to the floor. Her hands went to the clasp of her bra, and she slowly undid each eye hook. He could see the ink art on her lower back, a simple dark blue design of tangled vines.
Watching her, his throat convulsed. She slipped off the bra and turned slightly, giving him a side view of her perfect breasts. Not too big, not too small, just the right size. She unsnapped her jeans and shimmied them off, leaving her standing there in nothing but a spectacular red satin thong. His cock throbbed painfully.
He should snap the blinds closed or step away from the window, but he couldn’t make himself move. Nothing could wrench his gaze away from the glory of her feminine curves.
She reached up to pull her hair into a ponytail and secure it high on her head with a band. Her complexion was flawless, but he found himself grinning when he spied the cute little dimple in the center of her right butt cheek.
Jake gulped. Turn away. Turn away.
But he did not. Could not.
She lifted one long, lean leg up to the corner of the bed, then leaned over to peel off her sock, then repeated the action with her other leg.
His