A Sinful Trap (Three Sinful Wishes 2)

“Take your time.”

Was this really happening?

Back when she wasn’t living like a nun, she’d usually required a drink and a minimal exchange of information and banter before she got to this point with anyone, male or female. Was she really ready to drag this complete stranger to her narrow, lumpy bed and keep him there for hours? Days?

Yes. Longer, if she could manage it.

His face blurred as his mouth moved closer and she was sure he was going to kiss her. Maybe the spider knew what it was doing after all. Or maybe she’d fallen from the attic and she was alone and unconscious, because things like this didn’t happen to her.

“What are we doing, Elsa?” His voice was low, his eyes mesmerizing. “And why do you smell so delicious?”

“Bailey,” she whispered right before his lips reached hers.

Everything stopped. Not time, or the earth—because he wasn’t kissing her—but everything else. Why wasn’t he kissing her?

He straightened, taking his lips even further away while she tried not to look disappointed. “What did you say?”

What had she said? “Bailey? That’s my name.”

“I thought it was Elsa.”

And he was upset that it wasn’t? She was confused. “I’m guessing you don’t watch a lot of Disney?”

He answered with a glare, so she assumed that was a no. The unforgiving expression shook her out of her lust-hypnosis and reminded her of her precarious situation. She was alone with a stranger. In her pajamas. She’d literally thrown herself at him and he’d almost kissed her, but she had no idea why he was here or how he’d gotten inside after she’d locked the door.

“Why are you here? Did you need a room for the night?”

“Why would I need a room?”

“This is an inn. Why else would you come here?” She gave him a little nudge with her elbow. “Are you going to set me down now?”

“You’re Bailey Wagner.” It was more accusation than question. And he still wasn’t letting her go.

“According to my driver’s license,” she said warily. She hadn’t told him her last name. “I thought we covered that already.”

“Ms. Wagner is the manager here. The one in charge of budgeting, marketing, hiring and concierge service. A one-woman juggernaut, according to the previous owner. I was expecting someone… But you’re…” He looked around the hallway, as if searching for the right word. “Naked.”

Well damn.

“And then the lumberjack knight opened his mouth, forcing the capable woman— who was only temporarily in distress—to beat him with the nearest heavy object she could find until he let her go. The end.” She hid her disillusionment by trying to wriggle out of his arms with as much grace as possible. It wasn’t working—on either count. “Seriously, you can put me down now. And I prefer innkeeper to manager. In addition, for the record, not actually naked.”

Her first instinct was on target. No matter how handsome he was or how devastating to her equilibrium, this man was an asshole.

Chapter Two

“Maybe we can forget I said that and remember the time when I caught you in your hour of need?” he suggested, though his apologetic smile was more of a grimace.

“You’ve already been thanked for that. Or was someone else squeezing my ass?”

He lowered her until her feet touched the floor, then stepped back with his hands flexing at his sides. “Point taken. Your forehead is bleeding.”

Bailey reached up to touch the scrape and winced. She’d forgotten about that already. “I hit my head when you surprised me. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

Unfortunately, the “not nothing” wasn’t enough to distract her from taking inventory of the rest of him. He really was the whole package. A clean-cut, larger-than-life kind of package. Big and disconcertingly attractive. He loomed and towered like a Viking, but his white buttoned-down shirt was pristine, clearly custom made, which told her he pillaged from a corner office instead of a longship.

Everything about the ruggedly classy mountain made her heart race, even though he wasn’t in the same universe as her type. His body might hint at Hercules, but the rest of him screamed, “Gone fishing. On my yacht. Probably with a model.”

Men like him always made a beeline for the fancy resort in the canyon. Some never came into town or got anywhere near her quaintly broken-down, if centrally located, establishment. Was that it? Was he lost? “You haven’t told me who you are or why you’re here.”

“No, I haven’t.” His hand rose toward her forehead, but then he hesitated, scrubbing his fingers over the mouth he’d almost kissed her with instead. “You should put something on that soon. Who knows what’s been living up there with your spider?”

“That spider was only visiting, but I’ll get right on it.” Because she hadn’t been taking care of herself since she could walk, she thought sarcastically. She tugged her shirt down over her boxers, her professional courtesy smile wearing thin. “Right after you answer my question.”