Well, he’d seen her now.
And tonight, he might see her in her underwear.
Oh, God, how could she bear it? She’d seen his rage today. It had swirled in the depths of his eyes the instant he’d looked up at her. Along with an unexpected hunger …
A rush of sensations slid under her skin as she remembered his smoldering gaze. He’d snared her, with those eyes, eyes so pale they were almost colorless. She truly had never seen eyes that color before. Or such a raw, unbridled expression as when he’d looked at her.
Imagining those eyes seeing her in only her panties made her woman’s parts tickle so uncomfortably she wanted to scream.
No! She wouldn’t dare let him see her “bare-butt naked,” as he’d said, and she was certainly not going to make it easy for him. Which was why she’d changed. Now she was dressed in so many layers of clothing, she felt roasted in her own skin by the time she arrived at his building.
Her attire seemed to be the first thing he noticed when Mr. I-Crap-on-Cancer West opened the door to his top-floor apartment.
“Did it freeze tonight?”
Her smile felt tight on her face, but the sight of him so close provoked some odd sensations inside of her, and she had trouble speaking. Her physical reactions to him astounded her.
Her insides had seized with his presence, and as they finally unwound, everything resumed at a frantic pace. Her heartbeat, her lung expansion, the blood shooting in torrents down her veins.
He was big, at least six foot three, and he was dark as sin. Everything about him was dark as sin, except the lightness of those eyes, with those dark pupils, watching her with a burning thirst that opened up some unknown carnal impulses within her.
“Or were you planning to move to Iceland?” He stepp
ed aside with a cock of his dark head.
She tried to enter rather breezily and with confidence, which was really hard with all the layers she was wearing. Especially considering she was going to spend the next hours with a very pissed off, possible donor, whom she could not flip off again if she wanted to help her foundation. “I’m very sensitive to air-conditioning,” she said lightly.
“No shit you are, lady.”
He closed the door behind her, and she was surprised to see that his apartment was rather cozy and not as intimidating as the man. It wasn’t over-the-top, one of the money traps she’d heard many millionaires tended to fall into once they had dollars coming out of their ears. No. Cade’s place was manly and tasteful, with incredible views of the city, and furniture that was strikingly simple but also … large and thick. Dark woods. Chunky sofas. All done in chocolate and navy, which blended beautifully with the maple wood floor.
All of a sudden, she heard the click of nails on the hardwood floor, and a huge beastly dog appeared down a hall. It was as obsidian in color and frightening as its owner, and its ears and tail pricked in alarm when it spotted her.
“Don’t even think about it,” Cade growled. “Sit!”
The dog sat, but its ears were still up at attention. Ivy stared at it, strangely compelled by the creature. “What’s it called?”
“His name is Genghis.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Not if I’m here,” Cade grumbled, and when he patted the dog with his big hands, some jealous sensation gripped inside her stomach as she wondered what it felt like. “He’s a pound dog, but he used to be a fighting dog so he’s … a little rough around the edges.”
Ivy watched as he murmured to Genghis to be at ease, deliciously caught by the gentleness with which he spoke to the dog. She’d seen Cade West before his wife died. She’d glimpsed what lay beneath all that raw anger back then, and now she wasn’t even surprised that he would have rescued an angry dog from the pound. Or that he touched the animal with those gentle, big hands, and spoke to him with almost … affection.
Alarmed by the way this moved her, she started when he spoke behind her. His voice was soft. As soft as the one he’d used on the tamed dog. Filling her with goose bumps as she heard it near her ear. “Can I take your coat?”
She recovered fast and took a safety step away from him with a real smile. “Nice try, mister.”
He scowled darkly and signaled at her. “You can’t seriously expect to stay in all that? Hell, that’s not even fair to the Eskimo you got it from. And what the hell are these? Three scarves?”
He lifted them up to his somber scrutiny, and she nodded and watched them flutter back down.
“You can barely move in there. How many damned sweaters are you wearing?”
His intense scrutiny made her oddly aware of her nipples, her sex, her tongue, her fingers. “Two,” she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she was so obviously afraid of losing to him.
“And beneath the damned sweaters?”