bargained for.
“Couldn’t find a larger towel, eh?” she asked as he stepped into the tub.
“Why, it would be like putting a rain coat on a Greek statue.”
“Vanity, thy name is Araiza.”
Shea watched, nearly hypnotized despite herself, as he eased down in the mud. The symmetry of his back muscles, which flexed as he settled into the tub, was pure male perfection. He leaned back, worked the towel free, and laid it across his lap. Duke Araiza, naked except for that small square of white cotton …
“Oink,” he said gruffly.
Chuckling, Shea emptied the buckets of mud on top of his torso and legs, then silently reproached herself for feeling regretful when his magnificent body was hidden from view.
Revenge
, she recalled.
“Now what?” he asked, smiling wickedly. He pulled his towel out of the mud and dropped it on the floor. “Naked and ready.”
“Now you put your head back, close your eyes, and I’ll massage your face and scalp.” She patted the black satin pillow attached to the rim of the tub.
Duke rested his head on the pillow and shut his eyes blissfully. “
Magnifico, querida
,” he whispered.
Shea spent a wistful moment studying his angular, handsome features. Then she clenched her teeth, smiled grimly, and hoisted a remaining bucket of mud.
“You deserve this,
hombre
,” she said fiendishly, and dumped the mud onto his head.
He sat up hurriedly, made a garbled shouting sound, sputtered, and grabbed for her with both big hands. Shea whooped with glee and darted back, but not far enough. He caught her by one wrist. “Take a wallow with me, hellion!”
“
Por favor! Por favor!
Please! No!” she yelped one second before he pulled her into the tub.
Shea flailed at his iron grip and began laughing as she sank into the mud between his updrawn knees. He shook his head, slinging mud everywhere like a dog shaking rainwater from its coat, and used his free hand to wipe his eyes.
“Ever think of starring in a remake of
The Jazz Singer?
” Shea managed to ask. She laughed harder. As a matter of fact she couldn’t remember when she’d ever laughed this way. She couldn’t remember when she’d sat in a tub full of mud with a naked man. Never, actually. He uttered a stream of colorful curses in Spanish and English.
“I see the whites of your eyes and the whites of your teeth,” she continued. “But otherwise you look like a giant piece of chocolate. Like one of those giant chocolate Easter rabbits …”
“You play hard,
querida
. All right, I like that,” he said in a tone that was half angry and half amused. “I deserved this.”
“Yes, you did,” she said in a voice gone suddenly soft. “And I enjoyed it immensely.”
“But it won’t be forgotten! You’ve toyed with a master gamesman! You’ve thrown down a challenge.…”
“Quiet,
hombre
,” she ordered, and kissed him.
He went still for a second, and then his muddy arms went around her in a snug, possessive hold. Mud seemed to be everywhere except their mouths.
Shea wrapped both arms around his neck and burrowed as close as she could, kissing him wildly, giddy and thoughtless of everything except his taste and touch. She hadn’t intended to kiss him, but her good intentions no longer mattered. He was outrageous, sexy, and a very good sport, three qualities that she admired tremendously. With a hoarse cry Duke twisted his mouth against hers. The kiss was wanton and yet something much more; they were equals, sharing a passion that encompassed respect and affection as well as hearty lust.
Mud slipped over the side of the tub as he squeezed her closer to him. Shea realized that she was lying between Duke’s long, muscular legs, then that he had wrapped his legs around her. It was a strange feeling, to be wrapped in his body. It was a secure feeling.
Shea ran a hand up the back of his head. “Your hair, your poor muddy hair,” she said between kisses.
“I’ll go through a mud bath ten times a day if this kind
“Couldn’t find a larger towel, eh?” she asked as he stepped into the tub.
“Why, it would be like putting a rain coat on a Greek statue.”
“Vanity, thy name is Araiza.”
Shea watched, nearly hypnotized despite herself, as he eased down in the mud. The symmetry of his back muscles, which flexed as he settled into the tub, was pure male perfection. He leaned back, worked the towel free, and laid it across his lap. Duke Araiza, naked except for that small square of white cotton …
“Oink,” he said gruffly.
Chuckling, Shea emptied the buckets of mud on top of his torso and legs, then silently reproached herself for feeling regretful when his magnificent body was hidden from view.
Revenge
, she recalled.
“Now what?” he asked, smiling wickedly. He pulled his towel out of the mud and dropped it on the floor. “Naked and ready.”
“Now you put your head back, close your eyes, and I’ll massage your face and scalp.” She patted the black satin pillow attached to the rim of the tub.
Duke rested his head on the pillow and shut his eyes blissfully. “
Magnifico, querida
,” he whispered.
Shea spent a wistful moment studying his angular, handsome features. Then she clenched her teeth, smiled grimly, and hoisted a remaining bucket of mud.
“You deserve this,
hombre
,” she said fiendishly, and dumped the mud onto his head.
He sat up hurriedly, made a garbled shouting sound, sputtered, and grabbed for her with both big hands. Shea whooped with glee and darted back, but not far enough. He caught her by one wrist. “Take a wallow with me, hellion!”
“
Por favor! Por favor!
Please! No!” she yelped one second before he pulled her into the tub.
Shea flailed at his iron grip and began laughing as she sank into the mud between his updrawn knees. He shook his head, slinging mud everywhere like a dog shaking rainwater from its coat, and used his free hand to wipe his eyes.
“Ever think of starring in a remake of
The Jazz Singer?
” Shea managed to ask. She laughed harder. As a matter of fact she couldn’t remember when she’d ever laughed this way. She couldn’t remember when she’d sat in a tub full of mud with a naked man. Never, actually. He uttered a stream of colorful curses in Spanish and English.
“I see the whites of your eyes and the whites of your teeth,” she continued. “But otherwise you look like a giant piece of chocolate. Like one of those giant chocolate Easter rabbits …”
“You play hard,
querida
. All right, I like that,” he said in a tone that was half angry and half amused. “I deserved this.”
“Yes, you did,” she said in a voice gone suddenly soft. “And I enjoyed it immensely.”
“But it won’t be forgotten! You’ve toyed with a master gamesman! You’ve thrown down a challenge.…”
“Quiet,
hombre
,” she ordered, and kissed him.
He went still for a second, and then his muddy arms went around her in a snug, possessive hold. Mud seemed to be everywhere except their mouths.
Shea wrapped both arms around his neck and burrowed as close as she could, kissing him wildly, giddy and thoughtless of everything except his taste and touch. She hadn’t intended to kiss him, but her good intentions no longer mattered. He was outrageous, sexy, and a very good sport, three qualities that she admired tremendously. With a hoarse cry Duke twisted his mouth against hers. The kiss was wanton and yet something much more; they were equals, sharing a passion that encompassed respect and affection as well as hearty lust.
Mud slipped over the side of the tub as he squeezed her closer to him. Shea realized that she was lying between Duke’s long, muscular legs, then that he had wrapped his legs around her. It was a strange feeling, to be wrapped in his body. It was a secure feeling.
Shea ran a hand up the back of his head. “Your hair, your poor muddy hair,” she said between kisses.
“I’ll go through a mud bath ten times a day if this kind
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