Like a Hurricane. Roxanne St. Claire

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СКАЧАТЬ looked like roofing paper. This must be where the workmen hung out…because they certainly weren’t working.

      Quinn walked in the opposite direction, toward an ancient elevator barely big enough to hold two people and their suitcases. The wooden doors weren’t completely closed, he realized and stuck his hand in the inch-wide crack between them. When he gave them a quick shove, they opened with a soft thunk.

      At least he thought it was a soft thunk, because at that instant, any blood intended for brain functions such as hearing or speaking or thinking went rushing off to another place.

      Holy… He could only stare. Up. At the sight of two amazing female legs hanging out of an open access panel in the ceiling, dangling a good four feet off the ground. Long, lean, tan and bare, they emerged from a blue skirt, he saw as he slowly leaned in and peered up. A skirt that had ridden just high enough to show the tops of deliciously taut thighs and an edge of similarly colored lace.

      “Son of a bitch!”

      Quinn jumped back to avoid a screwdriver that sailed from the hole and clattered onto the floor. The tool landed next to a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals, a blue jacket and a briefcase standing on its side.

      So the skirt and matching panties had a voice. And, evidently, a toolbox.

      He cleared his throat noisily. “Excuse me?”

      A loud shriek followed as the skirt wiggled. Quinn’s throat constricted against the pounding pulse in his neck. That blood was moving fast. South. This was not your average elevator repairman.

      “Would you like some help up there?”

      A hand with pink fingernails reached down and frantically pulled at the skirt, hiding the blue-lace trim, but not the thighs. The decidedly feminine backside squirmed, accompanied by another little mewing sound as the skirt—bless the tiny thing—crept higher up in response.

      “Oh—oh! I’m stuck!”

      He dodged a sudden swing of one long, shapely leg, then watched as the blue material shimmied left and right in a vain attempt to descend and dainty bare feet pointed to the ground. His instinct was to reach out and help her, but he was momentarily paralyzed. Surely his hand would accidentally land on a soft, feminine piece of flesh.

      That did it.

      The blood reached its destination and Quinn sucked in a breath as arousal sucker punched him. Without thinking, he grabbed the hips, careful to touch only the fabric of her skirt.

      She shrieked again. “Hey! What are you doing?”

      He held tight. “Trying to get a round peg out of a square hole.” He gripped the curve of her hips, inadvertently bunching the material and leaving him with a handful of pure, silky thigh. Oh, man. “If you, uh, just relax, ma’am, I can bring you down.”

      “Relax?” The muscles under his fingers tightened in sheer defiance of the order.

      “Relax,” he urged, sliding his hand to a covered area.

      He heard a moan, then, “Okay.”

      “All right, I’ve got you.” It didn’t take much strength, but he was thankful for his six-foot-plus height and the hours he’d spent at the gym as he eased her body down. Every one of his senses slammed into full alert while he drowned in the intoxicating feminine scent of her and studied the perfect curves of her backside under the silky material of her skirt as she descended.

      Inch by scrumptious inch, he brought her closer to the ground. She let out tiny whimpers of discomfort that made him want to cradle her closer. A narrow waist emerged from the opening, followed by a sleek, toned back, covered only in a thin blue tank top, the same color as the skirt and…coordinated undergarments.

      As her head dipped into the elevator, he saw a twisted mass of thick, dark hair stabbed with a yellow pencil—a pencil?

      Once her bare feet were firmly planted on the floor, she kept her back to him as she reached up and yanked her skirt furiously over her thighs. Too bad. He’d miss them.

      “Thank you.” The tremble in her voice touched him.

      “No problem.” None. At all. He’d do it again in an instant.

      She still didn’t turn and he fought the urge to gently twirl her around. He wanted to see her. He needed to see what kind of face went with a body like that.

      She stood perfectly still, square shoulders topped by the ridiculous pencil ’do.

      He cleared his throat again. “Well. Okay, then.” He tapped the wall of ancient-looking elevator buttons. “First floor? Ladies’ lingerie?”

      The proud shoulders shook in a sudden laugh. Good. It would be a crime if hips and thighs and legs like that didn’t have a sense of humor.

      “It’s okay,” he told her. “I didn’t see anything I haven’t seen before.” He paused, that single flash of blue lace burning in his brain. “Just at a new and different angle.”

      She chuckled again.

      “Kinda makes me want to move into this place permanently.”

      In an instant, she whipped around. “Really?”

      Then Quinn McGrath got sucker punched again.

      This time by blue. It was all he could see, all he could absorb. Her eyes were the most beautiful shades of blue and green, precisely the deep, inviting, mesmerizing color of the Gulf of Mexico. They were set wide apart, adorned with thick black lashes. His gaze traveled over her creamy complexion and paused at the little killer cleft in her chin.

      “Really,” he said huskily. At least he thought that’s what he said. But the way she blinded him with a glorious smile, he wondered if he’d actually said the words screaming in his brain. Something along the lines of: Let’s have sex. Now.

      Great. One nanosecond view of underpants and a perfectly mature thirty-three-year-old man was reduced to thinking like a teenager.

      The maddeningly blue eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you doing on this floor?”

      He took a step back, afraid if he got any closer he’d pull her into his arms and act like a teenager, too. “I—I was just looking around.” He pointed to the open access panel. “And up.”

      She smoothed her skirt self-consciously. “It was stuck.”

      “I noticed.” He almost couldn’t look into the depths of her eyes, they were so distracting.

      She fought a smile. Adorable. “I mean the elevator.”

      He forced his gaze away from her face, down over the azure-colored tank top and onto the most impressive set of—

      With a jerk, the elevator plummeted into a sudden fall that tumbled her into him.

      “Oh—”

      The force pushed Quinn into the panel of buttons just as the elevator thudded to a halt. With a low rumble, the doors started to close.

      “No!” СКАЧАТЬ