The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“Ah.”

He ducked his head, nuzzled a silky strand of hair back from her throat. “Ah, what?”

“Ah, then maybe whoever’s trying to reach you is really, really trying to reach you.”

That stopped him.

Maybe she was right.

He hadn’t even looked at his phone since the afternoon.

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “I’ll check.”

“Five minutes,” she said. “That’s all you get.”

He tugged her closer and kissed her.

“Two minutes is all I’ll need.”

She smiled. “I’m going to get undressed.”

“Don’t,” he said with a wicked grin. “That’s my job, remember?”

She blushed, laughed, kissed him again. He watched her walk into the bedroom. Then he reached for the phone and followed its automated directions.

Sage shook her hair loose and brushed it.

It was a little damp.

The rain, which had ended in late afternoon, had started again when they were a block from the hotel.

They’d walked back from the theater.

Caleb had started to flag a taxi. She’d stopped him.

“Let’s walk,” she’d said.

“It’s a long walk, honey.”

“I know. But I’ve always loved walking in the city.”

He couldn’t think of another woman who’d say such a thing about doing a couple of miles of pavement.

“Okay,” he’d said, talking her hand. “Let’s walk.”

They had, taking it slow, pausing to peer into shop windows, talking, laughing, two people learning more and more about each other.

When the rain started, they were only a couple of blocks from the hotel. It came down lightly, more a soft mist than rain, and Sage had turned her face up to it and Caleb had kissed her.

Now, her hair was curling.

Worse.

It was becoming a wild tangle.

Should she use the dryer? Or would Caleb like it this way?

She thought of him coming into the bedroom. Taking her in his arms. Kissing her. Stripping her out of her dress, a shimmering column of pale peach silk, out of her bra and panties, leaving her only in spiked gold heels, her hair tumbling down her back.