Carrie pressed
her mud-covered face against the thick terry cloth
towel, breathing in the fresh scent. Curling her arms
behind her head, she stretched out on her back atop the
massage table, her toes furling upwards in sheer
ecstasy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been
so pampered, and she was determined to enjoy every
minute of this mini-vacation.
“Ms. Winslow?”
The deep voice brought her upright with a start. She
whirled around on the table, her slippery skin causing
her to slide dangerously close to the edge. Her hands
reached out, grasping for a hold, something to keep her
in one place.
A strong hand
closed around her wrist and hauled her upright, saving
her from landing face forward on the carpeted floor. “I
apologize for startling you.” The voice was laced with
amusement and an accent that Carrie couldn’t place.
Sitting lotus
style, Carrie glared at her visitor while trying not to
notice the bulging biceps and impressive chest. She
didn’t know the man, had never seen him before, that she
knew for sure. She certainly wouldn’t forget someone
with his looks.
His face
captured her attention. Mocha-colored skin, startling
hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips
that begged immediate attention riveted her and almost
elicited a soft sound of appreciation until she
squelched it. It was a face that could only be
described as beautiful, classic, and surrounded by
thick, long braids that fell well below his shoulders;
it was a face that demanded awareness.
Irritated with
herself, she said, “If you could read, the sign on the
door says do not disturb, Mr. …” She paused to let him
fill in his name.
He reached for a
nearby towel and handed it to her. “Hamilton. My name is
Ty Hamilton, and if you wouldn’t mind covering up while
we continue this conversation, I’m sure we’d both be
more comfortable.”
Carrie’s eyes
dropped to her naked breasts and with a low sound of
disgust, she yanked the towel from the stranger’s hand
and tucked it around her slim figure. “Well, I’m sorry
if I offended you, Mr. Hamilton, but I wasn’t expecting
visitors.” Her nipples had puckered, either from the
cold air or the man’s nearness. And when had she become
so short of breath?
The hairs on the
back of her neck stood upright, and there was an
unfamiliar warmth between her thighs. She cleared her
throat and busied her hands with tightening the towel.
“I need to speak with you.” The man’s cultured voice flowed
over her, like a thick, rich ribbon of pure honey. Good
God, who was he?
“You are speaking
with me...in a very awkward situation, I might add.” She
continued to glare up at him, taking note of the fact that
her neck was beginning to ache, but she wasn’t about to
invite him to have a seat.
“I’d like a more
private conversation area, if that would be possible.” The
guy didn’t move, effectively barring any possible exit to
the door that she might be contemplating since there was no
way she could push him out of the way.
Making sure the
towel was securely in place, Carrie slid to the floor,
pushing the terry cloth down over her toned thighs. “Then I
would suggest you make an appointment.”
“I went by your
office, Ms. Winslow. As you well know, you were closed.”
Hazel eyes dropped to her vividly colored nail polish before
climbing back up her legs before finally reaching her
mud-covered face once more.
Carrie watched the
inspection, feeling her skin warm beneath the intensity of
those incredible eyes. Ordinarily, she wasn’t one to notice
a man’s eyes immediately, but these were riveting, capturing
her, holding her.
Feeling
self-conscious about the mud-pack and her state of undress,
she kept her eyes trained somewhere in the vicinity of her
visitor’s feet. She wondered where his eyes were right now,
but she wasn’t brave enough to tip her face to look.
Determined not to be
held by the stranger’s compelling presence, she padded
toward the sink on bare feet. “Then call tomorrow and my
secretary will be more than happy to schedule an appointment
for you.”
“I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
