Read Online Show & Tell by Rhonda Nelson - Free Book Online Page B

enjoying the sensation as well. A small smiled tilted her lips and she’d turned her face toward the kiss of the sun. A light breeze ruffled her black bed-head locks and that same breeze molded the white, all-but-see-through kurta to her small, womanly form.
    It was at this point that Knox became hopelessly distracted.
    Naturally, over the course of Savannah’s career at the Phoenix, Knox had observed her body and noted its perfection. He was a man, after all, and men—being men—tended to notice such details.
    But noticing and really appreciating were two completely different things.
    Knox’s gaze roamed leisurely over her body and, much to his helpless chagrin, his visual perusal ignited a spark of heat in his loins.
    The delicate fabric lay plastered against the unbound globes of her breasts, and the rosy hue of her nipples shadowed through the clinging material. Knox could easily discern the flat belly, the sweetly curving swell of her hips and the black triangle of curls nestled at the apex of her thighs.
    She was beautiful. Utterly and completely beautiful and…
    And feeling his dick begin to swell for sport, Knox mentally swore and made a determined effort to direct his lust-ridden brain toward a more productive line of thought—like his story. With that idea in mind, he studied his surroundings.
    Picnic tables, some already occupied with couples, were arranged in a large circle beneath a huge whitewashed octagon canopy. Crystals of various sizes and shapes dripped like icicles from the perimeter of the canopy, sending rainbows of colorful reflected light dancing through the air. The tinkling tones of windchimes sounded, adding another element to the mystical environment. A white silk chaise sat upon a raised dais in the center of the outdoor room. Who knew what sort of depraved acts had been committed upon that little bench, Knox thought with a grim smile.
    â€œWhere should we sit?” Savannah asked as she surveyed the circle of tables.
    â€œSomewhere in the middle,” Knox told her. “If we sit in front, we’ll look eager and too easy to snag for demonstrations. If we sit in the back, they’ll think we’re bashful and will want to draw us in and make us participate.” He guided her toward an appropriate table.
    Savannah grinned. “Why do I feel like this is the voice of experience and not a fabricated load of BS?”
    â€œBecause it is. I honed the skill in grade school.”
    With a roll of her eyes, Savannah sat down. “Sounds like you were trying to figure out a way to do the least amount of work possible.”
    Knox returned her grin and attempted to sit down next to her. He wasn’t used to navigating in a dress and almost toppled chin first into the picnic table when the hem of the kurta caught the seat. He scowled, smoothing the damned gown back into place. “That was one of the perks,” he finally said. “Be sure and take good notes. I always copied someone else’s.”
    She gave him a droll glare. “I’m sure you did.”
    Actually, he hadn’t. He’d only been trying to needle her. What did she think? That he’d been able to sail through an Ivy League school on nothing but his parents’ money and his charming personality? And she had the nerve to think him a snob?
    She’d never said it, of course. Just like none of his other co-workers had ever said it. But Knox knew they were laboring under the mistaken assumption that his wealthy background had afforded him his present career and, moreover, that his being talented could have nothing to do with it.
    Knox smothered a bitter laugh. Let them think what they would. Screw ’em. He didn’t care. In fact, he purposely invested a great deal of time making sure that no one—least of all any of those co-workers at the paper—knew just how much he longed to be respected for his work, rather than simply tolerated with virulent