Sex Appeal. Lori Foster

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СКАЧАТЬ And anyway, I’d probably do it through a clinic. You know, artificially inseminated, and all that.”

      Brent recovered enough to comment, “That doesn’t sound like any fun.”

      “No, it doesn’t. But then, the alternative isn’t always that great, either.”

      Brent quirked a brow at that artless confession, then laughed when Shadow slapped her hand over her mouth. “Go on,” he encouraged her, anxious to hear more.

      “Forget I said that,” she mumbled past her fingers. “I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on the male species and their abilities.”

      Brent continued to smile. “I was taking it more as a challenge.”

      “Well, for Pete’s sake, don’t! I certainly didn’t mean it as one.”

      “You make me laugh, Shadow. I like that. I like you. And as long as we’re both in agreement that marriage is not a state to be devoutly sought, I think we can have some of your acclaimed fun together. Don’t you?”

      “I suppose,” she agreed, but without as much enthusiasm as Brent had hoped for.

      Nodding at her desk, he suggested, “Why don’t we finish that contest form, then I’ll help you hang the rest of your decorations.”

      “You don’t have to do that,” she assured him.

      “I want to. Besides, I have nothing better to do with my time today.”

      “Oh. Well then, the next question is what three qualities do you look for most in a woman?”

      “Attractiveness, honesty and sensuality.”

      Shadow stared. “That was mighty quick. You don’t need time to think about it?”

      Propping his elbow on the arm of his chair, he rested his chin in his palm. “Nope.”

      Shadow smacked her pencil down on her desk. “In that order, I suppose?”

      “Certainly. If a woman isn’t attractive, I wouldn’t pursue her in the first place. If I got to know her, and she wasn’t honest—a new criterion of mine—I wouldn’t trust her, and therefore wouldn’t want a relationship with her. If we started a relationship, and she was a cold fish, or a prude, there’d be no point in continuing.” He shrugged.

      Shadow shook her head in dismay, but then quipped, “At least you’re honest about it.”

      “Which part are you objecting to, Shadow? It can’t be the looks part, because you have to know how sexy you are.”

      “I’m…average. That’s all.”

      He just smiled. “I find it hard to believe you could be a prude.”

      She scowled at him. “If you’re trying to find out if I’m honest, the answer should be obvious. I wouldn’t put out the effort necessary to lie. But what bothered me was that you didn’t think a sense of humor was important. Or honor. Or generosity.”

      “They would have come in place after sensuality.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Next question—what would you consider the perfect romantic evening?”

      “You mean there’s only one?”

      She clicked her teeth together. “You’ll have to narrow it down to your favorite.”

      He shifted, propping his elbows on his knees, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. When his eyes came to hold Shadow’s gaze, hers darkened in reaction. He said quietly, his words deep and slow, “Being alone with a woman, the sounds of a storm outside, a warm fire. Naked, with all the time in the world ahead of us.”

      She looked taken aback by his deliberate and intimate use of “us.” She shook her head when she realized she hadn’t written his comments down, and hurried to do so, though her fingers shook slightly with the effort.

      “Anything else?” Brent asked, enjoying her reaction.

      “What…” Shadow cleared her throat, then tried again. “What do you like to do for fun?”

      “Water ski, swim, jog.” He grinned at her. “Make love.”

      Her pencil paused, then she quickly scribbled down his answer. “And what type of work do you do?” She was writing as she asked the final question, studiously avoiding his gaze, so she missed his expression of doubt and determination.

      Beyond the bare bones, his work shouldn’t interest her.

      Glancing up, she said, “You gave me a business card, but it doesn’t really say. Just your name and a number.”

      He had many businesses, and even more managers to see to those businesses. That was why he hadn’t known about Shadow until boredom had forced him to come to Ohio, involving himself with his newest venture. He answered vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t press. “I’m self-employed, running my own affairs. As I said earlier, I’m in real estate.”

      “Is it interesting?” Shadow asked as she wrote down the final information.

      He looked at her bent head, the way her silky curls loosely framed her face. “More so each day.”

      She smiled at Brent as she folded the papers. “That’s about it. All we need now is a picture. As I told you, Hot Shots here in the complex has offered to take the contestants’ photos for free. We can go there now if you like, or sometime later in the week.”

      “If you have the time, we might as well get it over with.”

      * * *

      THE PHOTOGRAPHER WAS very friendly—a little too friendly, Shadow thought. The woman fawned over Brent, insisting he do the shot without a shirt, and Brent, surprising Shadow, decided to oblige her. He stripped off his shirt without a hint of modesty—not that modesty was necessary. He looked incredible.

      Though his hair was light brown, the hair on his chest was darker, not overly thick, but sexy. He was muscular, with broad sinewy shoulders and sculpted biceps. His abdomen was hard, lean, divided by a slender line of that dark body hair. It swirled around his navel, then disappeared into his trousers.

      Shadow’s heart began an erratic tattoo.

      Just watching him, she flushed. Her eyes narrowed as the photographer moved Brent this way and that, taking far more shots than she had with the other contestants, her hands lingering on his bare skin. By the time they were done, Shadow wasn’t feeling particularly charitable toward the woman and left without saying farewell.

      Brent ignored her mood, going right to work on hanging up the remaining decorations. She insisted on helping, and took immense pleasure in each light they connected, each wreath they hung. The November weather was characteristically biting, and by the time they finished, Brent’s cheekbones were red with the cold, Shadow’s nose just as rosy. They went inside, laughing, and plugged in the electrical cord.

      Twinkle lights wound around the outside frame of the door and the overhang, where a huge wreath was centered. Inside, each window СКАЧАТЬ