Read Online Devil Without a Cause by Terri Garey - Free Book Online Page B

that’s all there was to it.
    Faith took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    Yes, she was about to have a private dinner with one of the world’s sexiest rock stars in a luxury suite at the Ritz-Carlton, and despite Finn’s immediate preference for food over sex, she had no doubt how the evening needed to end.
    Given that she hadn’t had sex since before Nathan was born, she only hoped she could remember how.
    A knock came at the door while Finn was still in the shower. “Room service.”
    Faith, who’d kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned another button of her blouse, put her eye to the keyhole. “Leave it in the hall, please,” she said through the door, glad she didn’t recognize the waiter. He wouldn’t know her voice.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Instantly he did as she asked—this was the Ritz, after all—and left his wheeled cart where it stood. She waited, giving him plenty of time to reach the elevators.
    Checking the peephole a final time before opening the door, she ducked her head outside and looked around before snagging the cart, feeling like a criminal. She’d lied to her coworkers and left the desk shorthanded, so she wasn’t eager to be seen.
    She wasn’t eager to get locked out, either, so she used a hip to keep the suite door open, backing in with the cart.
    “Let me help,” came Finn’s voice, behind her, and the weight of the door was relieved. He held it open, standing close to the wall to let her pass.
    When she did, she got a whiff of soap and dampness, and with a jolt that set the cart rattling, she realized he’d barely dried off from his shower.
    He was wearing nothing but a towel.
    “I’ll put this over by the table,” she said brightly, dragging the cart farther into the suite. He turned to shut the door, giving Faith a great view of his lean back and narrow hips. He had a pair of black wings, ornately feathered, tattooed on his shoulder blades.
    “Your tattoo is beautiful,” she said truthfully. She didn’t care much for ink as a rule, but Finn’s wings had obviously been done by a true artist.
    “Thanks.” He turned from the door to help her with the cart, giving her a wry smile. “Every fallen angel needs his wings.” The way he said it made her stomach do flip-flops, and the way he looked—well, the way he looked made her mouth dry and her heart pound. His chest was firm and well-muscled, a faint line of dark hair trailing down until it disappeared into the towel.
    “You’re blushing,” he said with a grin. “I’m making you nervous.”
    “No shit,” she shot back, unthinking.
    Finn threw his head back and laughed. “She blushes and swears,” he said. “So ladylike, yet so naughty. You’re an interesting woman, Amy.”
    “I don’t swear that much, really,” she said ruefully, knowing she wasn’t at all interesting, and wishing he hadn’t called her Amy.
    He was standing on the other side of the cart, the handle of which she still held in a death grip.
    “Never seen a man in a towel before?” he asked softly.
    “Um . . . not lately,” she answered honestly.
    Finn laughed again. His towel was riding low, bunched in his fist. “Glad to hear it. I’ll just go”—he gestured toward the bedroom—“get dressed, then.”
    She nodded, grateful for the chance to gather her wits.
    “Or I could eat like this. You could get naked and join me.” The teasing glint in his eye was still there, but there was a definite hint of possibility there, too, and Faith knew it.
    “I’ll set the table while you dress.” She chickened out.
    “Hm,” he murmured, eyeing her with a grin as he walked away. “Not quite as brave as you think you are, I see.”
    She had no answer for that, because her brain was otherwise occupied. Oh. My. God. He was hot. Hormones she had forgotten existed surged to life, bringing a dampness between her thighs, and suddenly Faith remembered what it was like to be a woman again. To want a man who obviously wanted her (if the bulge in his