“He’s the sexiest man in the universe. You’ve got the sexiest man in the universe in your living room, and you’re showing him your pet spider. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. Are there any helpful articles in this magazine? Like one that advises people to mind their own business?” Jayne asked pointedly. It hadn’t occurred to her that Candi would want her to pursue Reilly. She had thought the girl would act as a buffer, just like her younger sisters always had when she’d been a teenager bringing boyfriends around.
“No,” Candi said, “but there’s plenty in here about what a stud this guy is.”
Jayne scowled, not appreciating the reminder in the least. If it was at all possible, she was going to try to think of Reilly in asexual terms for the time being.She would try to think of him as a fellow life force in her circle of existence, a spiritual energy, a hunk and a half. Oh, fudge, she thought, grinding her teeth.
“Don’t let the glitter get in your eyes, sugar,” she advised Candi sagely as she handed her the magazine. “He’s just a man.”
Candi gave her a long-suffering look that suggested she thought Jayne a bit dim. “Jayne, my uncle Fred who sells orthopedic shoes is just a man. That fat guy that comes to read the meter is just a man. Pat Reilly is
awesome.”
She was right, Jayne thought with a sinking heart as she stared across the room, meeting Reilly’s smoldering gaze. Everything inside her turned to warm honey. There were men and then there was Reilly. There was definitely something about him that set him apart—an inner fire, a blazing sexuality, a bod to die for. And she now had to accompany that something to a bedroom.
Offering a fervent little prayer to every deity she could think of, she crossed the room and motioned for him to follow her. The trip up the winding open staircase to the second floor seemed to last an eternity. She could feel Reilly’s gaze on her derriere every step of the way. She was so aware of it, it was like a tangible caress. By thetime they gained the second-story landing, her breathing was labored and her knees were weak.
Practicality had dictated there be at least a few walls in this part of the house. There were four spacious guest rooms, and Jayne’s own large suite, which was set apart from the other bedrooms by a lofted den. She flung open the door to Reilly’s room and turned to him with a skittish smile.
“Here you go. All the comforts of home. You even have your own bath.” She sidled toward the steps, shooing him toward the room with an airy wave of her hand. “Go on ahead. Settle in. Settle away. I’ll just—”
Reilly took a step backward and propped himself against the wall, effectively cutting off Jayne’s escape route. A lazy smile twitched his lips. “Aren’t you gonna give me the grand tour, Jaynie? What kind of a hostess are you?”
Jayne’s brows drew together in annoyance, and she crossed her arms tightly against her chest, not realizing that she was plumping her breasts up practically under Reilly’s nose. Her black eyes sparkled. “It’s a bedroom, Reilly. I hardly think you, of all people, need a map.”
That was an argument best left alone, Reilly decided. His love life had been blown out of all proportion by the Hollywood press, but he didcertainly know his way around a bedroom. To his way of thinking, a man didn’t discuss such things, particularly with a lady and most especially not with a lady who had qualms about becoming just another notch on his belt.
“Come on, Jaynie,” he said in his most persuasive tone. He gave her a little-boy’s smile that was designed to melt the coldest female heart. “How are we supposed to get to know each other if you keep running away from me?”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she took a deep breath in preparation for delivering a scathing retort, but Reilly cut her off. He pried one of her arms free and tugged her into the bedroom after him. “You
“Nothing. Are there any helpful articles in this magazine? Like one that advises people to mind their own business?” Jayne asked pointedly. It hadn’t occurred to her that Candi would want her to pursue Reilly. She had thought the girl would act as a buffer, just like her younger sisters always had when she’d been a teenager bringing boyfriends around.
“No,” Candi said, “but there’s plenty in here about what a stud this guy is.”
Jayne scowled, not appreciating the reminder in the least. If it was at all possible, she was going to try to think of Reilly in asexual terms for the time being.She would try to think of him as a fellow life force in her circle of existence, a spiritual energy, a hunk and a half. Oh, fudge, she thought, grinding her teeth.
“Don’t let the glitter get in your eyes, sugar,” she advised Candi sagely as she handed her the magazine. “He’s just a man.”
Candi gave her a long-suffering look that suggested she thought Jayne a bit dim. “Jayne, my uncle Fred who sells orthopedic shoes is just a man. That fat guy that comes to read the meter is just a man. Pat Reilly is
awesome.”
She was right, Jayne thought with a sinking heart as she stared across the room, meeting Reilly’s smoldering gaze. Everything inside her turned to warm honey. There were men and then there was Reilly. There was definitely something about him that set him apart—an inner fire, a blazing sexuality, a bod to die for. And she now had to accompany that something to a bedroom.
Offering a fervent little prayer to every deity she could think of, she crossed the room and motioned for him to follow her. The trip up the winding open staircase to the second floor seemed to last an eternity. She could feel Reilly’s gaze on her derriere every step of the way. She was so aware of it, it was like a tangible caress. By thetime they gained the second-story landing, her breathing was labored and her knees were weak.
Practicality had dictated there be at least a few walls in this part of the house. There were four spacious guest rooms, and Jayne’s own large suite, which was set apart from the other bedrooms by a lofted den. She flung open the door to Reilly’s room and turned to him with a skittish smile.
“Here you go. All the comforts of home. You even have your own bath.” She sidled toward the steps, shooing him toward the room with an airy wave of her hand. “Go on ahead. Settle in. Settle away. I’ll just—”
Reilly took a step backward and propped himself against the wall, effectively cutting off Jayne’s escape route. A lazy smile twitched his lips. “Aren’t you gonna give me the grand tour, Jaynie? What kind of a hostess are you?”
Jayne’s brows drew together in annoyance, and she crossed her arms tightly against her chest, not realizing that she was plumping her breasts up practically under Reilly’s nose. Her black eyes sparkled. “It’s a bedroom, Reilly. I hardly think you, of all people, need a map.”
That was an argument best left alone, Reilly decided. His love life had been blown out of all proportion by the Hollywood press, but he didcertainly know his way around a bedroom. To his way of thinking, a man didn’t discuss such things, particularly with a lady and most especially not with a lady who had qualms about becoming just another notch on his belt.
“Come on, Jaynie,” he said in his most persuasive tone. He gave her a little-boy’s smile that was designed to melt the coldest female heart. “How are we supposed to get to know each other if you keep running away from me?”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she took a deep breath in preparation for delivering a scathing retort, but Reilly cut her off. He pried one of her arms free and tugged her into the bedroom after him. “You
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