Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

He’d flirted with her, sure. So what? Men flirted. She never flirted back—she wasn’t comfortable with it—but flirting was harmless.

Deep inside, she’d surely known he wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to do.

And maybe that was the problem, that part of her had understood that there might be things he’d ask of her that she would want, would need, would do despite the fact that he was a stranger, that she knew nothing about him except that he was beautiful and exciting and, yes, a little dangerous…

“Time to get you into something warm and dry.”

She blinked, looked up. He was standing over her and his tone was businesslike. Nothing even close to flirtatious or sexy. No innuendo, simply a statement of fact.

He nodded toward the dressing room, softly illuminated by candlelight.

“I’ve laid out some things. A T-shirt. A sweatshirt. An old pair of cut-down sweatpants. They go to my knees, so they should be fine for you. Wool socks. And if that stuff doesn’t work for you, take whatever you prefer. OK?”

Jaimie cleared her throat.

“About before,” she began. “About you ma-making that same offer…”

“Honey. We can talk later.” He reached for her, lifted her as easily as if she were a feather and put her on her feet. “I left a big towel for you, too. Rub down, then get dressed. I’m going to take some things downstairs, but I’ll come right back and I’ll be out here, waiting for you.” He flashed that devastating smile. “Then we’ll see about something to eat. How’s that sound?”

Like paradise, she thought as she shut the dressing room door behind her.

There was no lock.

A little while ago, assuming she’d let him talk her into this, she’d have searched for something to jam under the knob.

Now, she simply began undressing.

/> And got as far as her bra and pantyhose.

On? Or off?

Neither was wet or even damp, but she never wore pantyhose with sweats. And if she didn’t keep the pantyhose on, she’d feel silly wearing her bra.

She looked at the clothing he’d laid out for her. Picked up the sweatshirt and held it against her. It was huge. Only she would know she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Or panties.

That she was naked under the clothes.

His clothes.

A little tremor went through her. The cold. That was the reason. She had to stop wasting time and get warm.

Quickly, she stripped off her underwear and used the towel to rub some circulation back into her flesh. Once she had, she pulled on the clothes he’d left for her. The air conditioning had gone off when the power had, of course, but its chill lingered.

His clothes were just right.

Well, everything floated on her, but the pieces were soft and warm against her skin. There was a mirrored wall across from her and she caught a glimpse of herself in it.

Stunning, she thought with a wry smile.

Her hair had dried the way it always did if she didn’t blow-dry it to get out the waves and curls that always resisted all her attempts at taming. And her outfit was…

Interesting.

She gave a soft laugh as she imagined Lissa seeing her like this.

Her big sister often teased her about her clothing choices.