Notorious. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      “Why don’t I see if I can get you a room on the same floor?” he said. “You’d probably be more comfortable with that.”

      Oh, he’d definitely caught her ogling. She had to take quick action. “No way, baby doll! I feel like enough of a charity case as it is! Tell you what, let’s forget the whole thing.”

      “No, no. We’re not going to forget the whole thing.” He sighed. “Come on. The hotel’s this way.”

      So he had a place on the Strip. She would have liked that, too, but the magazine had booked her at one of the less expensive places downtown. Maybe when he was otherwise occupied, she’d head over there and pick up a few things.

      She fell into step beside him. “You know what your problem is? You think too much.”

      “Could be. But that’s better than not thinking enough.”

      “Ah. That would be me you’re referring to, wouldn’t it?”

      His mouth twitched with amusement. “I didn’t mean just you.”

      “Oh, you probably did, but that’s okay. I won’t take offense. It you’re talking levels of caution, on a scale of one to ten I’d be a minus fifteen.”

      He laughed.

      “You, on the other hand, would be a plus thirty.”

      “You’re exaggerating.”

      “No, I’m not!” She felt great walking down the street with Noah. Because she stood five-eight in her bare feet and had generous breasts, not many men could make her feel small and delicate. Noah had the height and breadth of shoulder to carry it off. Maybe it wasn’t politically correct to enjoy that, but she did. She always had. Always. Uh-oh. What if she wasn’t over him?

      “If I’m so damn cautious,” he said, “then why did I take up bull riding?”

      “I thought about that. And it does indicate a streak of daring hiding in there somewhere.” She had to be over him, she decided. After all, it had been years.

      “See?” He looked pleased with himself. “I can be daring if I want.”

      “Yes, but you only have to maintain that daring for eight seconds or less. That’s not a long time.” She kept up the banter, but inside she was scanning for evidence, trying to decide if she was still hooked on Noah.

      “Oh, yes, it is a long time. When you’re in the heat of the action, eight seconds is an eternity. A lifetime.”

      “Really?”

      “Really.”

      “Well, I sure hope that’s not your attitude when you make love. If so, your lady friends must be very frustrated.” There. If she could poke fun at him, then she was over him. Definitely.

      He blushed. “We weren’t talking about that.”

      “I was.” That blush of his was so cute. The people she hung out with in L.A. were all pretty jaded when it came to sexual innuendos. Finding a man who could blush when he talked about sex was refreshing. And arousing.

      He tugged his hat down lower over his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about that particular subject, and you know it.”

      But he was now, and that was her goal. If only she knew for certain she could pull off this caper without getting hurt herself. “The fact is, I have no idea what kind of lover you are, Noah. You’re a conservative guy, so when you talk about eight seconds being an eternity, I can’t help wondering if you think that’s plenty of time for—”

      “Of course it’s not!” He was really red now.

      She’d forgotten how adorable he could be when he was flustered. “Well, good. Glad to hear it. Because most women need a whole lot more than eight seconds to become thoroughly—”

      “I’m aware of that! Now, could we please change the subject?”

      “Sure. Be glad to.” She used to love teasing him like this. She loved it still. Probably too much, and she’d be wise to walk away from this whole setup. But then she’d never know if she could succeed in breaching his defenses. She had to know, no matter what it might cost her. And she was tough. She’d picked up the pieces before and could do it again. Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.

      “Thanks.” He sighed in apparent relief.

      Little did he know there was no relief in sight. “Oh, there’s a drugstore,” she said. “Would you mind if we stopped in there before we get to the hotel? I need a few things, and I’m sure they’re more expensive in the hotel shops.”

      “That’s fine.” He sounded grateful to be doing something as harmless as shopping. “I guess you would need a toothbrush and…other stuff.”

      “A big bottle of lotion, for one thing. I’d forgotten how desert heat affects my skin. Back on the ranch I had to practically take a bath in lotion, remember?”

      “Can’t say as I do.”

      Liar. “Oh, sure you do. You even commented about it one evening when I was on the front porch of Dad’s house, slathering it all over my legs and arms. You said if I kept that up I’d slide right out of bed in the middle of the night.”

      “Mmm.”

      “My favorite is raspberry-scented, but they might not have that.” She peeked at him as they walked through the door into the air-conditioned store to see if any of what she’d said was registering. He looked more than a little agitated.

      Two years ago she’d done an article on scent as an arousal factor. All the guys she’d interviewed rated scent very high, and most of them fondly remembered how former lovers had smelled like cinnamon, or lily of the valley, or in one instance, chocolate. She was counting on Noah having the same response, and she’d used raspberry-scented lotion ever since she’d turned fifteen. If she couldn’t find any in the drugstore, she’d smuggle over the bottle she had in her hotel room.

      But raspberry lotion wasn’t her primary target in the drugstore. She could hardly wait for the moment when Noah discovered what she planned to stock up on.

      

      NOAH HAD BEEN in tight spots in his life and he’d always managed to come out okay. He clung to that hope as he followed Keely around the store and tried not to think of the scent of raspberries.

      That scent had drawn him to her dad’s porch on the night she’d mentioned. Dressed in cutoffs and a halter top, she’d stationed herself on the creaky old porch swing with a bottle of that damn lotion. To get near her, he’d made up some excuse about checking the area for snakes.

      Keely wasn’t the type to run off screaming at the mention of a snake, so while he’d swung a flashlight beam around and pretended to scout for rattlers, she’d nearly driven him crazy smoothing that creamy, fragrant stuff over her bare legs. They hadn’t talked much, but he remembered crickets chirping and the rhythmic squeak of that swing, which could have passed for the sound of bedsprings. To this day he couldn’t smell or taste raspberries СКАЧАТЬ