Emma ignored her. Apparently, like Rina, the older woman preferred to be the matchmaker, not on the receiving end.
“Colin, this is Logan and Cat’s room when they stay here. Which isn’t often, but still…Feel free to go into the closet and find a shirt.” She opened a door, pushed Colin inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
“You’re a bulldozer, Emma. And you can’t run from Stan forever. What’s wrong if you have dinner with the man?” Rina asked.
“I’ve been on my own too long.” Emma paused at the next door in the long hall. “This is a bathroom. Go on in here and I’ll bring you a shirt of Gracie’s, okay?”
“That’s sweet, Emma. I’d appreciate it.” Before the older woman could walk out, Rina felt compelled to add something else. “Remember that alone’s lonely.” And she wondered if she was speaking for her own benefit, as well.
Two minutes later, Emma returned with a white oxford shirt, as close a match as she was likely to get. The older woman excused herself, then said she’d meet up with Rina again downstairs.
Rina locked herself in the bathroom and began unbuttoning the wet blouse, parting the material. She found a guest towel she could dampen and turned on the water to wipe the stickiness off her chest when, without warning, a loud creaking noise startled her. She jerked around toward the sound, which had come from behind, only to discover the door didn’t lead to a linen closet as she’d originally thought, but to the bedroom next door.
And the person who’d entered wasn’t Emma but a shirtless, breathtaking Colin.
BEFORE EMMA HAD DOUSED them with champagne, Colin had been trying to get his mind around the concept of how important this job was to Rina and how he could accomplish his goals without hurting her. He’d thought to get close enough to divulge the problems with the paper and see if she could give him insight into bringing Corinne around. But both women seemed to need this direction the paper was taking, and damned if Colin knew what to do about it.
Then fate had interrupted in the form of an aging whirling dervish and all conversation and thought stopped, especially when he’d seen Rina in that see-through blouse. He’d broken into a sweat at the sight of all that lace and skin.
By the time he’d stepped into the bathroom to splash cold water on his chest to wash off the sticky champagne, he thought he had himself under control. He hadn’t expected to find Rina there. Now that he had, one look and never mind a splash of water, he needed a full-blown, cold shower.
He’d wondered what she hid beneath her bulky clothes, and though tonight’s blouse had given him a hint, he hadn’t been prepared for the impact. White lace peeked out from behind a hand towel and, thanks to her bra of choice, small but sensually rounded cleavage pushed upward in a tantalizing, tempting V. He tried to swallow but his throat had grown dry.
“A gentleman would say excuse me, turn around and walk out,” Rina said wryly, not a hint of sincerity in her voice.
Even her attempt at covering herself had grown pathetic. Her hands trembled slightly and the towel revealed more than it hid. Her trousers were low-cut, allowing him a glimpse at her creamy skin, and the waist hit just below her belly button, teasing him with a slight indentation tailor-made for a man’s tongue.
His tongue, Colin thought. He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and pushing the lock shut tight. “I don’t remember claiming to be a gentleman. Especially when you’re around.”
“I need to understand this,” she murmured.
He liked her intellectual side, the side that refused to give in to instinct without rationale. “What’s so difficult to understand? You’re a beautiful woman and I’m attracted to you.” He took a step closer, inhaling the scent of champagne, wanting to lick the flavor off her skin.
“And you don’t care which Rina you’re looking at, the one with makeup or without, the one with the long hair or this shaggy look.” Her voice caught, a hint of awe in her tone.
“That’s right. And it’s the woman who’s researching your column who’s surprised. But the woman in here—” He touched her chest with his callused finger. “That’s who you really are. And you know me—just like I know you. And I wouldn’t lie just to…”
“Get laid?” she asked, tongue in cheek. “No, I don’t think you’d do such a dirty, despicable, male thing.” Her lips twitched and a sparkle lit her gaze.
She laughed, and he was glad she had a sense of humor about something many women would make an issue of. He closed the distance between them. They were alone in the small bathroom, not another guest within hearing distance. If Colin had to guess, even Emma was long gone by now. He was certain she’d somehow set them up or at least allowed them time to take advantage of the proximity she’d provided.
Something he had every intention of doing if the woman beside him was willing. And he intended to find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHOULD SHE or shouldn’t she? Rina didn’t want to think any more than she wanted to hesitate. She’d hoped for this moment and fate only provided so many opportunities. She wanted Colin, and it had been too long since a man had made her feel so desired, so needed. Gathering her courage, she dropped the towel and backed toward the vanity, grasping on to the Corian countertops with both hands. Her position had the erotic effect of pushing her breasts upward in silent invitation.
His gaze slid down to her chest and he let out a slow groan. “Honey, that’s going to have to mean yes.”
Yes to what, she wasn’t certain, and at the moment she didn’t care. Moisture settled low and dampened her panties, excitement a companion she barely recognized, it had been so long. “I’m so glad you’re a man who knows how to read a woman’s signals,” she said at the same moment he dipped his head, nestling his face between her breasts.
He exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath hitting her skin as he began to taste the champagne with luxurious laps of his tongue. Starting in her cleavage, he worked his way outward, teasing her with nibbles and tastes until her nipples tightened into rigid peaks begging for equal treatment. He was tormenting her, taking his time, making a slow feast of her flesh until every nerve tingled and desire so overwhelmed her, she whimpered aloud.
He lifted his head, his blue eyes glittering with banked desire. “Tell me what you want.”
“Is that what men like?” she asked. “To be told?”
“I’m not going to answer so I can be the subject of some damn article.”