Read Online Rub It In by Kira Sinclair - Free Book Online

focusing totally on the prize that he wanted—her mouth.
    With an almost inaudible gasp, Marcy turned away, breaking the connection that had caught them both.
    Simon studied her as she quickly dished food from the pan on the stove onto two beautiful plates. They were thick, heavy and, on closer inspection, Simon realized probably handmade. Indigo and burgundy swirled across the surface in an abstract pattern. They were definitely not island issue, but something she’d brought with her to Île du Coeur.
    And he realized it was the first touch of something personal he’d seen. Her office had no photographs, no knickknacks, no little baskets or cartoony staplers. Everything was silver, stark and professional.
    Her hands were steady now, but he was almost certain they hadn’t been when she’d first turned around. He’d been seducing women since puberty, so he knew the signs of interest well enough. Hell, he had the perfect tutorial outside his front door. Every night at the resort some man—or woman—was making the moves hoping to end up in someone else’s bed.
    Although he really didn’t need the lessons.
    Marcy wanted him. Physically at least. Of that he was damn sure. She might not like it, but that didn’t change the facts.
    She brushed past him and a blast of lavender hit him square in the face.
    His body responded.
    Marcy studiously ignored him as she ate her dinner. Simon, on the other hand, studiously watched her. And the more he watched the more agitated she became.
    A tiny smile tugged at the edge of his lips as he slipped a piece of chicken into his mouth. She really was a good cook. He had no idea why that surprised him, but it did.
    “This is excellent,” He said finally, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them.
    “It’s nothing.”
    “No, it’s simple and good. I didn’t realize you could cook.”
    “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Simon,” she said, looking up into his eyes for the first time since she’d sat down across from him.
    He quirked a single eyebrow. “Like what? Enlighten me.”
    “Maybe I don’t want to.”
    Simon set his fork on his plate and leaned across the table. He stared into her azure eyes—they were so bright and clear. Such an unusual shade that he was sure she’d learned long ago to use to her advantage. She wanted to look away. He could see it in the way the corners of her eyes compressed. But she wouldn’t. Instead, she lowered her chin and silently challenged him in that frustrating way of hers.
    But he was no coward and actually enjoyed the provocation. “Why not? What are you afraid of? It isn’t like I’m asking you to strip naked in front of me. Just tell me where you learned to cook.”
    Her skin flushed a soft pink the minute the word strip left his mouth. But her eyes flashed and her lips thinned and he knew she’d rise to the bait.
    “I taught myself. I lived most of my life in premier hotels with just my father. And while he was a wonderful man and a great father, he was a terrible cook. He’d always say that not taking advantage of the gourmet meals available to us was tantamount to committing a sin.”
    “Not very religious, your father, then, hmm?” he asked.
    Marcy reached up and ran her hands through her hair, ruffling her bangs. The soft blond strands settled back around her face in a disheveled mess that did nothing to dampen the buzz of attraction fighting through his blood. His fingers curled against his palm, the only way to keep him from reaching out to brush the wisps away from her cheeks.
    She was uncomfortable. Simon wondered if it was sharing part of her background and life that made her so, or if it was specifically sharing those details with him that flustered her.
    “So why did you learn to cook? I thought you’d spent most of your adult life living in a hotel, as well.”
    “I did.” Marcy’s lips twisted into a self-deprecating semblance of a smile. “This place—” she looked around, but her