Read Online All Over You by Sarah Mayberry - Free Book Online Page B

for it.
    And he would be right — she was.
    The two glasses of wine she’d had before he arrived to pick her up had been supposed to keep her calm, in control. But she’d underestimated the power of nerves and a good Californian chardonnay on an empty stomach. By the time he’d appeared on her doorstep, she’d been feeling no pain at all.
    Which had given her the
illusion
of being calm and in control. But the moment she stepped outside the restaurant and the chill night air rushed across her overheated skin, she saw the flaw in her strategy.
    She’d made a fool of herself. She’d confessed her born-again-virgin status to him and she’d flirted shamelessly. Now she felt like the biggest moron to ever walk the earth. What must he be thinking? She’d really stuffed up spectacularly. First, her utter bitchiness during the day, now her inappropriate — drunken — fumblings over dinner. Talk about from one extreme to the other.
    “Lord, please take me now,” she mumbled as she stared up at the starry sky.
    “Did you say something?” Mac asked, turning away from his conversation with the valet.
    “No,” she said quietly, feeling utterly miserable. She just wanted to be home, in her bed with the covers over her head and her eyes tightly shut. Then this would all be a dream, a horrible nightmare, and she wouldn’t have to endure the selected highlights that would no doubt be flashing across her mind for the next few months.
    She shivered, rubbing her hands along her arms.
    “Cold?” Mac asked. Before she could shake her head, he’d shrugged out of his designer denim jacket and was holding it out for her to slide her arms into.
    Because it was easier to comply than to explain that it had been more a shiver of self-recrimination than actual cold, Grace poked her arms into the proffered sleeves. Immediately, he settled the jacket on her shoulders and she was enveloped in his warmth and his scent.
    “Better?”
    She forced a smile. “Thanks.”
    It wasn’t his fault that she found him attractive. Well, not completely, anyway. He’d been born good-looking, so that part wasn’t his fault. But the working-out-to-achieve-a-perfect-body thing — that was definitely something she could lay at his door. And the good fashion sense — that was his fault, too, even if his taste came via a stylist. Then there was the witty dinner conversation, his taste in cars, his laugh and the mesmerizing intensity of his blue eyes. They were all definitely, definitely his fault. He could have been a cocky, egotistical jerk, like all the other stars she’d met. But no, he’d chosen to be charming. The irresistible bastard.
    The Corvette burbled to a halt in front of them, valet behind the wheel, and Mac rested his hand on the small of her back as he guided her toward the passenger seat. Heat slithered along her veins from the brief contact.
    So stupid,
she told herself.
So, so stupid.
    But it was useless. She’d fantasized about having Mac Harrison and now here he was, sitting beside her, driving her home. Her body didn’t know the difference between fantasy and reality. She’d trained it too well.
    Even though she knew nothing would happen, even though she knew it was insane to even consider that something might happen, her body was off and running.
    She could feel her heart clamoring against her ribs. Staring out the side window, she was unbearably aware of the brush of her clothes against her skin. Beneath the protection of Mac’s coat, her nipples had hardened into two urgent peaks and she squeezed her knees together in a vain attempt to quell the slow ache that was growing between her thighs.
    Images flashed across her mind: Mac’s superbly muscled chest, the firm perfection of his butt in jeans, the strength of his thighs.
    God, she wanted him.
    And she was
so
never going to have him.
    “You okay? Not still cold?” Mac asked, shooting a look across at her as they stopped at a red light.
    Cold?
She’d never been hotter.