given a gift, but who hadn't been thrilled by the gesture. Was she insane? If a woman didn't want diamonds, what did she want? How was a man supposed to figure it out?
"Let me ask you a question," she said.
"Anything."
"Tomorrow is Saturday. Are you busy?"
"No, why?"
"I've been thinking about our last date."
The look she flashed had his blood pounding in his veins.
"And…?"
"I was wondering how you'd feel about staying here tonight."
He frowned. "Here, as in here at this bed and breakfast?"
"Yes." She reached into her purse, pulled out a key, and slid it across the table. "Room 6, the private suite on the top floor."
"You made a reservation?"
"We're Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
He—who was never surprised by anything—was incredibly surprised.
"You want to stay with me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I've decided to let you seduce me."
"I thought you needed time to consider."
"Three days seemed to do it."
"You're perfectly clear now?"
"Oh, yes."
He studied her. There was a challenge in her gaze. She was daring him to agree, as if she suspected he was a coward. Silly girl.
He'd never in his life declined what was freely and brazenly offered by a female.
"If we head upstairs," he warned, "we're not coming down till Sunday night."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Once we start in, you can't shy away like a scared rabbit."
"I won't shy away."
"It will be just you and me and room service. I'll keep you flat on your back for the next forty-eight hours."
"Tough talk, Merriweather," she taunted. "Do you think you're up for it?"
"Ooh, you are going to be so sorry."
"I doubt it."
"When I'm finished, you won't be able to walk for a week."
"We'll see. Give it your best shot."
He threw down his napkin and stood, quickly rounding the table to hold her chair. He bent down and whispered, "Get your ass upstairs. Now."
"I hear Room 6 is available."
"It's not available. It's occupied."
He scooped up the key and escorted her out of the restaurant.
* * *
Faith watched as Lucas pushed the door open. He motioned for her to proceed him, and she was glad to enter first.
Her heart was pounding—with excitement but with anxiety too.
She had asked him to come up into the mountains. She had booked the room and ordered the champagne. She had propositioned him.
If her courage eventually failed her, she couldn't change her mind. She'd moved them beyond the point where she could call a halt.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tumble into a sexual affair. She was so attracted to him, and the sexual tension had built to an unsustainable level. They had to act on it, or they'd both burst into a ball of flames.
No, it was that she knew, from the minute they stepped over the threshold, she would be in over her head. How would she keep herself from drowning?
The suite had a sitting room that was separate from the bedchamber. Stalling, she went to the table by the window where a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket. A tray of hors d'oeuvres was arranged next to it.
She was pouring a glass of champagne when he came up behind her. He placed his hand on hers, stopping her.
She glanced over her shoulder, and on seeing the hot look of desire in his eyes, her knees were actually weak.
"What?" she asked.
"Sex first. Champagne second."
As if she was his bride, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, both of them laughing, bouncing across the mattress. He drew her under him, trapping her with his arms and legs so she couldn't chicken out and slip away.
He was in a frenzy, yanking at the straps of her dress, baring her breasts. He fell to them, laving and licking her nipples as his hand slid under the hem of her skirt. With a fierce jerk, he ripped her panties away, then his fingers were inside her.
She was riveted by how good it felt to be touched by him. Why on earth had she waited?
"I have wanted to do this," he muttered, "since the moment I saw you in that blasted
"Let me ask you a question," she said.
"Anything."
"Tomorrow is Saturday. Are you busy?"
"No, why?"
"I've been thinking about our last date."
The look she flashed had his blood pounding in his veins.
"And…?"
"I was wondering how you'd feel about staying here tonight."
He frowned. "Here, as in here at this bed and breakfast?"
"Yes." She reached into her purse, pulled out a key, and slid it across the table. "Room 6, the private suite on the top floor."
"You made a reservation?"
"We're Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
He—who was never surprised by anything—was incredibly surprised.
"You want to stay with me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I've decided to let you seduce me."
"I thought you needed time to consider."
"Three days seemed to do it."
"You're perfectly clear now?"
"Oh, yes."
He studied her. There was a challenge in her gaze. She was daring him to agree, as if she suspected he was a coward. Silly girl.
He'd never in his life declined what was freely and brazenly offered by a female.
"If we head upstairs," he warned, "we're not coming down till Sunday night."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Once we start in, you can't shy away like a scared rabbit."
"I won't shy away."
"It will be just you and me and room service. I'll keep you flat on your back for the next forty-eight hours."
"Tough talk, Merriweather," she taunted. "Do you think you're up for it?"
"Ooh, you are going to be so sorry."
"I doubt it."
"When I'm finished, you won't be able to walk for a week."
"We'll see. Give it your best shot."
He threw down his napkin and stood, quickly rounding the table to hold her chair. He bent down and whispered, "Get your ass upstairs. Now."
"I hear Room 6 is available."
"It's not available. It's occupied."
He scooped up the key and escorted her out of the restaurant.
* * *
Faith watched as Lucas pushed the door open. He motioned for her to proceed him, and she was glad to enter first.
Her heart was pounding—with excitement but with anxiety too.
She had asked him to come up into the mountains. She had booked the room and ordered the champagne. She had propositioned him.
If her courage eventually failed her, she couldn't change her mind. She'd moved them beyond the point where she could call a halt.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tumble into a sexual affair. She was so attracted to him, and the sexual tension had built to an unsustainable level. They had to act on it, or they'd both burst into a ball of flames.
No, it was that she knew, from the minute they stepped over the threshold, she would be in over her head. How would she keep herself from drowning?
The suite had a sitting room that was separate from the bedchamber. Stalling, she went to the table by the window where a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket. A tray of hors d'oeuvres was arranged next to it.
She was pouring a glass of champagne when he came up behind her. He placed his hand on hers, stopping her.
She glanced over her shoulder, and on seeing the hot look of desire in his eyes, her knees were actually weak.
"What?" she asked.
"Sex first. Champagne second."
As if she was his bride, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, both of them laughing, bouncing across the mattress. He drew her under him, trapping her with his arms and legs so she couldn't chicken out and slip away.
He was in a frenzy, yanking at the straps of her dress, baring her breasts. He fell to them, laving and licking her nipples as his hand slid under the hem of her skirt. With a fierce jerk, he ripped her panties away, then his fingers were inside her.
She was riveted by how good it felt to be touched by him. Why on earth had she waited?
"I have wanted to do this," he muttered, "since the moment I saw you in that blasted
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