Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

She waited a bit, then smiled a little. “Why don’t you come in, and we could ‘not sleep’ together?”

Though the sentence was rather convoluted, the meaning was clear enough. This was most definitely the invitation her open door had implied.

Because he was a normal, red-blooded male, his first instinct was to leap forward before she changed her mind. Because he was the surly and suspicious type, he asked, “Why?”

He couldn’t imagine what he had done to amuse her. Her soft, unpainted lips curved into a faint smile. “Well…if you aren’t interested…”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just curious about what you have in mind.”

Her smiled deepened at the corners, and she took a step toward him. “What I have in mind is seducing you. And if you haven’t figured that out by now, then I must be losing my touch.”

The surge of heat through his body confirmed that she had not lost her touch. “I, er, got that,” he managed to say coherently. “My question, again, is…why?”

She placed a hand on his chest. A muscle jumped beneath his skin. He wished now that he had kept his shirt on with his jeans. Standing there barefoot and bare-chested made him feel oddly vulnerable. As if he were, indeed, being seduced.

She watched her own hand as it slid up his chest to his shoulder. “Does it matter why?”

A faint echo of Isabelle’s innocent comments about marriage and jealousy sounded in the back of his mind. “Maybe.”

Resting her other hand on his other shoulder, she gazed up at him through her lashes. “I’ll be going back to New York in a day or two. Do you really want this to end with the few kisses we’ve shared?”

No, he most definitely did not want it to end with those kisses. He had fully intended to plot his way into her bed—his bed—before she left. So why was he suddenly hesitating when it seemed she was offering him a no-strings opportunity to scratch a growing itch, satisfy their curiosity or whatever it would be?

Her hands were looped behind his neck now, bringing her body lightly against his. Her dark eyes gleamed like polished onyx in the shadowy hallway as her gaze held his. “Well, Gideon? Do you want me to go back inside and close the door or do you want to come inside with me? It’s up to you.”

Adrienne couldn’t have pinpointed the moment she decided to invite Gideon into her bed—or rather, his bed. Maybe it had been during one of those spectacular kisses. Or perhaps at the festival, when he had been so patient and indulgent with Isabelle.

Or maybe it had been the expression in his eyes when she’d left him in his office again that night. Weariness. Discouragement with his work. Loneliness.

Emotions with which she identified all too well.

She didn’t try to deceive herself that they would have more than a night or two together. But maybe a few stolen hours would give them a reason to smile during the quiet, sleepless nights ahead—for both of them.

Besides which, his kisses made her knees go weak.

Craving another of those kisses, she tilted her face invitingly upward, waiting for his decision. She understood his hesitation; Gideon was a man who guarded his emotions ferociously. She saw the brief debate take place in his eyes before he covered her mouth with his, and she realized with a heady mixture of pleasure and nerves that he had decided to accept her bold invitation.

Before her knees buckled altogether, she took a step backward, toward the open bedroom doorway. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he followed her, walking her backward through

the doorway, then reached behind him to close and lock the door.

He lifted his head just far enough to ask, “You’re sure about this?”

She made a face and gave a short laugh. “All I’m sure about right this moment is that I want this. I want you.”

A low growl of response rumbled in his chest. He kissed her again, fiercely this time, and she sensed that her candid words had snapped the last thread of resistance he’d been clinging to. A moment later her bare feet were dangling above the floor, and then he dropped her onto the bed. She locked her arms around his neck, pulling him down with her.

His weight crushed her into the mattress, and it was a delicious feeling. Hard against soft. Curves against angles. Wrapping her legs around his, she shivered with the anticipation of how perfectly they would fit together.

Gideon was such a clever and creative man, she thought happily. This was going to be very interesting….

At the moment he was a very impatient man. His hands weren’t quite steady when they swept over her—and it awed her to think that she could make this strong, controlled man tremble.

She speared her fingers into his perpetually messy dark hair, loving the thick, silky feel of it. Apparently, he hadn’t seen a barber in a while—not that she minded in the least.

His lips moved against the galloping pulse in her throat, making it race even faster. His hands slid to cup her breasts, and her heart threatened to stop beating altogether. She had to remind herself to breathe.

His thumbs rotated, causing her to arch upward into his hands. Her fingers clenched convulsively in his hair. He grunted. “Ouch.”