the property and trying to save as
many of the original perennials as possible before the big machinery came and
plowed over everything as the main renovation work began.
Three weeks had passed since her last night at the Red Mask
Society. Three weeks of torture and longing and waiting for her mysterious
lover to call. But when the phone stubbornly refused to ring she’d put her
misery out of her head and turned to work instead.
Besides, she had Ryan to keep her on edge.
He’d taken an overly keen interest in her new job, showing
up at least once or twice a week to criticize her work or offer some suggestion
on how she could better maximize her time. His latest obsession was with her
work on restoring the gardens. On occasion, he actually rolled up his sleeves
to dig in the dirt or muscle out a weed that proved particularly stubborn.
Now she could see him out of the corner of her eye talking
with Zayne and she was struck again by the feeling she’d had when she’d first
seen them together—the sudden clench of her sex becoming a growing ache of
longing as she thought about the two men together making mad passionate love to
her.
Silly thoughts for a silly girl.
Her erotic nights were officially over. Until she could gain
some perspective on her recent past at the Red Mask Society, Alaina was in
celibate mode. No men, nowhere, no how, most especially the two she was working
with so closely—even if in her darkest desires she wanted them above all
others.
Which was entirely ridiculous. Ryan was the last man she
would ever have a relationship with. She could just picture him judging her
every move, giving her lessons on exactly how he liked to be handled, his mouth
pressing into that glorious frown that meant he was displeased—just like the
stranger behind the concealing mask.
A tremor of recognition shook her as she watched Ryan turn
and stride toward her. He was the same height. The same weight. The same—
It could not be possible.
Surely the fates would not be so cruel as to have thrown her
into Ryan’s bed then have her relish every second of the night.
Her legs shaking so bad they could not bear her weight,
Alaina was grateful she was already kneeling on the ground so she wouldn’t face
even more humiliation by dropping like a stone at his feet. And she was more
than glad her sunglasses hid her sudden shock.
Digging her hands deep into the muddy flowerbed to hide
their trembling, Alaina waited in dread as he approached, not knowing how she
was going to manage to carry on a casual conversation when every nerve she had
urged her to run screaming for cover—or screaming into his arms, whichever came
first.
Determined to ignore his presence and hope that by some
miracle he would walk on past, Alaina buried her head in the thorny bushes with
their beautifully scented blossoms until the man came to stand so close behind
her she could feel the heat that radiated from his skin.
“Good afternoon, Miss Winter,” he said, kneeling on the
ground beside her, looking all too delicious in a formfitting white t-shirt and
faded jeans—a marked change from his usual Italian suit attire. “I was just
speaking to Zayne about adding a fountain near the main entrance.”
“Uh-huh.” It was him, she realized with a certainty as she
recognized his voice. How in hell had she missed the signs? How in hell could
she have been so stupid? Her head spun with the knowledge, her stomach roiled
and she felt like she was going to pass out as he knelt beside her, reaching out
to touch her shoulder.
He must felt her tremble for his face grew pale with concern
as he took the clippers from her hand and forced her to face him. “Alaina, are
you well?”
“Take off your shirt,” she demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Take off your damned shirt.” Her heart
hammered as she raised her eyes to his face, hoping against hope she would see
nothing but confusion in the eyes staring back at her. To her horror she saw
both
many of the original perennials as possible before the big machinery came and
plowed over everything as the main renovation work began.
Three weeks had passed since her last night at the Red Mask
Society. Three weeks of torture and longing and waiting for her mysterious
lover to call. But when the phone stubbornly refused to ring she’d put her
misery out of her head and turned to work instead.
Besides, she had Ryan to keep her on edge.
He’d taken an overly keen interest in her new job, showing
up at least once or twice a week to criticize her work or offer some suggestion
on how she could better maximize her time. His latest obsession was with her
work on restoring the gardens. On occasion, he actually rolled up his sleeves
to dig in the dirt or muscle out a weed that proved particularly stubborn.
Now she could see him out of the corner of her eye talking
with Zayne and she was struck again by the feeling she’d had when she’d first
seen them together—the sudden clench of her sex becoming a growing ache of
longing as she thought about the two men together making mad passionate love to
her.
Silly thoughts for a silly girl.
Her erotic nights were officially over. Until she could gain
some perspective on her recent past at the Red Mask Society, Alaina was in
celibate mode. No men, nowhere, no how, most especially the two she was working
with so closely—even if in her darkest desires she wanted them above all
others.
Which was entirely ridiculous. Ryan was the last man she
would ever have a relationship with. She could just picture him judging her
every move, giving her lessons on exactly how he liked to be handled, his mouth
pressing into that glorious frown that meant he was displeased—just like the
stranger behind the concealing mask.
A tremor of recognition shook her as she watched Ryan turn
and stride toward her. He was the same height. The same weight. The same—
It could not be possible.
Surely the fates would not be so cruel as to have thrown her
into Ryan’s bed then have her relish every second of the night.
Her legs shaking so bad they could not bear her weight,
Alaina was grateful she was already kneeling on the ground so she wouldn’t face
even more humiliation by dropping like a stone at his feet. And she was more
than glad her sunglasses hid her sudden shock.
Digging her hands deep into the muddy flowerbed to hide
their trembling, Alaina waited in dread as he approached, not knowing how she
was going to manage to carry on a casual conversation when every nerve she had
urged her to run screaming for cover—or screaming into his arms, whichever came
first.
Determined to ignore his presence and hope that by some
miracle he would walk on past, Alaina buried her head in the thorny bushes with
their beautifully scented blossoms until the man came to stand so close behind
her she could feel the heat that radiated from his skin.
“Good afternoon, Miss Winter,” he said, kneeling on the
ground beside her, looking all too delicious in a formfitting white t-shirt and
faded jeans—a marked change from his usual Italian suit attire. “I was just
speaking to Zayne about adding a fountain near the main entrance.”
“Uh-huh.” It was him, she realized with a certainty as she
recognized his voice. How in hell had she missed the signs? How in hell could
she have been so stupid? Her head spun with the knowledge, her stomach roiled
and she felt like she was going to pass out as he knelt beside her, reaching out
to touch her shoulder.
He must felt her tremble for his face grew pale with concern
as he took the clippers from her hand and forced her to face him. “Alaina, are
you well?”
“Take off your shirt,” she demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Take off your damned shirt.” Her heart
hammered as she raised her eyes to his face, hoping against hope she would see
nothing but confusion in the eyes staring back at her. To her horror she saw
both
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