“You don’t like electric razors?” she asked, picking up a bottle of his aftershave, English Leather, opening it, and smelling it.
“I inherited my father’s thick beard, an electric won’t touch it.”
Standing there, leaning against the wall that ran beside the mirror, playing with the bottle, she watched him stroke the razor over his face, then rinse the blade in the sink. Once, he looked at her in the mirror and winked.
Smiling at him, she thought, What a lovely moment. Sometimes she felt more married to Mike than she ever had to her husband. Her husband had had ironclad rules, and one of his rules was that a man and woman were never to be in the bathroom together.
“Have you decided?”
“Mmmmm?” she asked dreamily, watching him.
He finished shaving, then held a washcloth under the hot water and wrapped his face in the cloth for a minute before wiping away the last of the lather. Turning to her, he bent so his face was close to hers. “What do you think?” He turned his face first one way, then the other.
Smiling, Samantha put her hands on his cheeks, feeling the freshly shaved skin, and was tempted to run her thumbs over his lips, maybe even to kiss him. “Baby soft.”
“Are you sure?” Bending closer, he rubbed his cheek against hers, first one side then the other.
Putting her hands on his shoulders, she felt his warm skin and closed her eyes for a moment.
“No stray whiskers to hurt a lady’s skin?”
“No, none,” she said softly, leaning her head back against the wall. “Perfectly smooth.”
Abruptly, he moved away from her, and in spite of herself, Samantha frowned. Usually he tried to kiss her, but he didn’t kiss her this morning. She had no way of knowing that her early-morning nearness was more than Mike could bear. If he wasn’t to touch her, he had to step away. But Samantha didn’t understand Mike’s abrupt movement, so on impulse, she looked in the mirror—then squealed. Her mascara was under her eyes, and her hair, damp when she went to bed last night, was standing on end. Grabbing one of Mike’s combs, she ran it under water then tried to make her hair lay down. Behind her, he laughed, then kissed her neck.
“You look beautiful,” he said honestly.
“As beautiful as Vanessa?” she asked, then put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She had not meant to say that.
Mike raised one eyebrow. “Been snooping? Going through people’s drawers? Looking at people’s private possessions?”
“Most certainly not. I…I wanted a pair of socks, that’s all. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I thought I’d look in the cabinet. I had no idea you would object to lending me a pair of socks.” She stopped because he was smirking at her. With her nose in the air to let him know what she thought of him, she pushed past him to leave the bathroom. “I couldn’t care less who Vanessa is. I’m sure you have a thousand girlfriends. What do they matter to me?”
When he was silent, she turned around to see him standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the jamb, smiling at her in a know-it-all way. “Would you leave? I need to get dressed.”
“So do I and my clothes are in here, but I have an idea you know that.”
“I know nothing of the sort.” She started toward the door that led into the hallway, but he caught her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To my own apartment, not that it’s any of your business.”
Catching her in his arms, he held her loosely while she struggled against him. “Now look what you’ve done,?
? he said.
Samantha was not going to look, because she knew very well that his towel had fallen to the floor. Resolutely, she kept her eyes on his. “I would like for you to release me,” she said stiffly, holding herself rigid.
“Not until you answer me.” He bent forward as though to kiss her neck, but Samantha turned her head away.
“I have answered you: I care nothing about Vanessa.”
Laughing, Mike pulled her a little closer to his big, warm, naked body. “I didn’t ask anything about ’Nessa, you did. I asked you what you wanted to do today.”
He was holding her loosely, but when she moved, she was almost close enough that her breasts were touching his chest. Because he was now completely and absolutely naked, Samantha kept her eyes fixed on a place to the right of his head. She wasn’t going to start wrestling with him, but she did think of telling him that he shouldn’t have spent time in the sun to get the golden color to his skin, then she wondered if perhaps that was his natural color of skin and he was golden all over. “I have a very interesting book I plan to read,” she said, her lips pursed together.
Mike was looking down at her body that was about a quarter of an inch away from being pressed against his, at the very thin fabric that separated them. “You know, I may change my mind about blue nightgowns. I like that one. Is it silk?”