Seduced In Seattle

The sound of the bathroom door opening made her turn around in the chair. Brock emerged, wearing only a pair of plaid cotton pajama pants tied low on his waist with a drawstring. The dark hair on his chest still glistened with tiny droplets of water. The scent of soap and male permeated the air. His short hair was slicked back on his head and his feet were bare.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said, moving toward the sofa.

“No, I’m all finished here.” She stood up, her mouth suddenly dry. Okay, so maybe Brock did have solid broad shoulders, a tight washboard stomach and bulging muscles in his arms. It’s not like she’d never seen a man’s naked body before. Maybe none quite as spectacular as Brock’s, but with all the same basic parts. Images of those parts flashed in her mind, sending a wave of heat through her.

She watched as he pulled back the blanket on the sofa bed, then lay down and settled back against the pillow. He pulled the sheet up to his waist so that all she could see was his bare chest. It gave the illusion that he wasn’t wearing anything. His flat nipples were a dusky pink and the cords of his neck stood out as he folded his hands behind his head.

She swallowed. “How was the shower?”

He hesitated. “Refreshing.”

Kate turned and switched the computer off. Maybe sharing a hotel suite with Brock wasn’t such a great idea after all. It put all sorts of crazy notions in her head. “I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been an exhausting day.”

“Good night, Kate.”

“Good night.” She practically ran for the bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and took a deep breath. Then another. Why did Brock Gannon have to show up in her life again? Why did he have to make her start doubting the perfect future she had all planned out for herself?

“Two weeks,” she said softly, slipping out of her pantsuit and hanging it in the closet. Then she took her favorite nightshirt out of the dresser drawer. It was a man’s striped pajama top that hung three inches above her knees.

She pulled back the quilted comforter and climbed into bed. “In two weeks, Brock will be gone and I’ll forget all about him.”

If she was lucky, in two weeks she’d be planning a wedding. Mrs. Todd Winslow. It had a nice ring to it. But when she closed her eyes, she still saw Brock Gannon standing at the altar.

BROCK WINCED as he turned the doorknob leading to the bedroom. He hoped the slight squeak hadn’t awakened Kate. Moving stealthily into the room, he paused until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. After a few moments, he could make out Kate’s long slender form on the bed. He could hear the steady rhythm of her soft breathing. See the shadows of her silky curls spilling over the pillow. She lay on her side, both hands tucked under one cheek. Her pink lips slightly parted—looking so very kissable.

He turned toward the closet before he forgot the reason he’d come in here. It was time to get the skirt and get the hell out of Kate’s life. Putting over three thousand miles between the two of them would be better than a cold shower. At least, he hoped so.

Brock padded silently to the closet, then slowly pulled open the accordion door. He quickly sifted through the row of dresses and pantsuits hanging there, searching for the skirt. He froze when he heard Kate roll over in bed, a soft, breathy sigh escaping her lips. The sound made his body instantly harden. It was a sound a woman made when he touched her in just the right place.

A sweat broke out on his forehead as he turned back to the closet. Where the hell was that skirt? He sorted through the clothes again, more carefully this time. At last he stepped back and closed the closet door. It wasn’t there. Hell.

He turned to look at Kate, wondering if she’d hidden it. But where? At that moment, she opened her eyes, then gasped aloud when she saw him. She bolted upright in bed, struggling with the tangled bedcovers.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, realizing this was the second time he’d scared her in less than twenty-four hours and hating himself for it.

“Brock.” Her voice was husky from sleep. She twisted to switch on the table lamp. Light flooded the room, making them both wince at the brightness. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I heard you cry out,” he improvised, moving closer to the bed. “I thought you might be having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Another blush suffused her cheeks and she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was just a dream.”

Torture. That was the word for this mission. Kate lay in bed, not two feet away from him. Her hair was tousled and her cheeks rosy. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. His entire body throbbed.

Brock sat down beside her on the bed to conceal his uncomfortable, and no doubt visible, condition. He reached out one hand and tipped up her chin with his finger. “Are you sure?”

She stared into his eyes, then licked her lips. “Positive.”

“I’m glad,” he said huskily, then he leaned forward, unable to help himself. He was already in this far. And a man could only take so much temptation. He closed the distance between them until his lips met hers.

She tasted even better than he had imagined. Like a spring rain on the parched earth of his soul. His hands found her waist as he deepened the kiss, nipping lightly at her lower lip. She made that sound again, that soft sigh that instantly sent his body into high alert.

At last she pulled back and stared at him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and confused. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He completely agreed, but asked the question anyway. “Why not?”

“I’m involved with someone,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Sort of involved. I don’t want any complications in my life right now.”

“The man you told your parents about,” he guessed. “The one who is supposed to see you in that skirt.”

She nodded. “I think he’s the one.”

Brock wanted to change her mind. And he knew a dozen ways to do it. Ways that could bring them both to the pinnacle of satisfaction. Ways that could induce her to tell him anything he wanted to know. But something made him pull back. A nagging sense of integrity that he’d never let affect his work before.

He straightened and stepped away from the bed. “Then I’ll say good night.”

“Good night, Brock.”

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He wanted the skirt. He wanted Kate. But he didn’t have his hands on the former and couldn’t have his hands on the latter. This mission was becoming more complicated by the moment.

He headed into the bathroom for a second cold shower.

4

THE NEXT DAY, Kate sat in the back seat of the taxi, her appointment calendar open on her lap. She’d just come from the Sweet Tooth Bakery, where she’d selected a six-layer cake for her parents’ anniversary party. She crossed that item off the list, then swallowed a groan at the endless errands she had left to do.

The taxi turned a sharp corner and Kate swayed in her seat, along with the black skirt hanging in the dry cleaner’s bag on the window opposite her. Her stomach churned when she thought of the next time she’d wear it. Her date with Todd. The man who might very well be the father of her children.

She reached into her purse for a roll of antacids, wishing she hadn’t eaten quite so many cake samples at the bakery. She’d finally chosen the raspberry chocolate flavor with white chocolate cream frosting. It was both delicious and decadent.

While she was there, she couldn’t help but look at their wedding cake catalog. The bakery needed at least two weeks’ notice on all wedding cake orders, so she’d have to take that into consideration when she and Todd set the date for their wedding. She hoped he was one of those people who liked short engagements. Kate wanted the deed done before either one of them had time for second thoughts.

The taxi squealed to a stop in front of the hotel.

“Five dollars even,” the cabbie said, tipping up his worn denim cap.

A knock on the taxi window made her look up from her purse. Brock Gannon stood right outside. He wore dark sunglasses in deference to the bright, Seattle sky. When he smiled at her, a dimple flashing in his cheek, every rational thought fled from her head.

He opened her car door. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Brock.” She swallowed, tasting the minty flavor of the antacid on her dry tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to take you out for lunch.”

She reached for her appointment calendar. “Did we have a date?” Heat crawled up her cheeks at the slip of the tongue. She would have remembered if Brock had asked her for a date. “I mean, an appointment?”

“Five dollars,” the cabbie reminded her, a tinge of irritation in his voice.

“Oh, right,” Kate said, peeling off a tip from the pile of crumpled dollar bills in her hand. Her purse fell off her lap, the contents spilling onto the dirty cab floor.

As she scrambled to stuff everything back inside, Brock slid his wallet out of his back pocket and handed the cabbie a five, along with a two dollar tip, which was much more generous than she’d intended to be, given the unnecessarily bumpy cab ride. In her job, she’d learned to value good customer service.

She climbed out of the cab, her heart beating wildly in her chest. It was the surprise of seeing Brock again, she told herself, as the cab peeled away from the curb. And the fact that he’d changed so much. Today he was wearing snug denim jeans and a black polo shirt that made a woman think of pleasure instead of business. She still wasn’t used to the way his lanky teenage body had evolved into bulging muscles that kept drawing her attention to his arms, chest and shoulders. Her gaze moved lower. He filled out those jeans quite nicely, too.

“Kate?”

She jerked up her head, realizing she’d been admiring that region a little too long. The half grin on his face told her he’d noticed her attention. Not that she was about to admit it. “Yes?”

“Are you hungry?”

For some reason, those three innocent words took on a whole new meaning. She’d been attracted to men before, but never experienced anything quite like this. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it.

“I thought we could go to the deli across the street,” Brock said, when she didn’t reply to his question. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”

Kate met his gaze, telling herself to snap out of it. “I already had some cake.”

He smiled. “That sounds nutritious.”

The way he looked at her made her breath catch in her throat. “It had raspberries in it. Fruit is good for you. Very healthy.”

“You do look healthy,” he agreed, his gaze lingering down the length of her body. “Incredible, in fact.”

She could see the flare of desire in his eyes and marveled at it. Especially since she wasn’t even wearing the skirt.

The skirt.

Kate looked down at her hands, which held only her purse and leather-bound appointment book, then whirled around hoping to see the dry cleaner bag on the sidewalk behind her. “Oh, no!”

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