Carly Phillips - Brazen

Samantha trembled. All she had left was this week. She hadn't planned her life this way, nor would this be the choice she'd make if her father's future weren't at stake. But it was. And if her life came down to this one week, she'd better make the most of it. Her chance waited just outside the door.

If she wanted to find a way into his arms, she'd best start by cleaning herself up. But first, she needed to get a drink to soothe her parched throat, she thought, reaching for a nearby glass and filling it with water. That decided, she felt more confident. In a few hours, if she was lucky, she'd discover… how to scare the poor man half to death. Samantha caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and gasped, dropping the glass into the sink. With her dirt-streaked cheeks, tearstains and tangled mass of hair, how could she have considered seducing him? Whatever made her think he'd be interested?

Without warning, the door burst open and she had company. "What the hell was that?"

Her grab for the towel came too late because her fantasy lover stood in the door frame staring at her practically naked body. Okay, he'd seen her shirt before, but the sexy underwear, her one concession to femininity beneath the tailored suits she wore to work, left her midriff completely exposed. She glanced down. The small triangular scrap of material between her legs showed more than she wanted him to see at the present time.

"Well?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Not if her life depended on it. She was more concerned with covering herself. She tried to remove the towel from the hook on the wall, but the shaking of her hands hindered the attempt.

She turned to gain better leverage and heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Those things ought to be outlawed."

Her hands went to her behind, covered only by flimsy lace with scalloped edging, and at that moment, Samantha discovered she wasn't as brave as she'd planned to be. She was mortified.

How could she even think she could seduce a man? Nothing showed like inexperience, and though she'd had relationships before, she'd never tackled a one-night stand. After the impression she'd made, she wouldn't be doing so tonight.

She'd blown her chance and devastated her ego. Not bad for a night's work.

He brushed past her. A powerful dose of his masculine scent overwhelmed her like an aphrodisiac. As if she needed more than just a look to arouse her beyond belief.

He yanked the towel off the hook, making the maneuver look easy. "Cover yourself," he growled.

Startled by his tone, she turned to look at him. His eyes had darkened, the smoky gray transformed into deep charcoal. Color highlighted his cheekbones and those firm-looking lips were pulled into a tight line.

"Now." He shook the towel before her eyes. "Or I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Yes, sir." Her gaze slipped to his waist and the telltale bulge in his tight jeans. Pure female pleasure stirred inside her. Her technique might need work, but she hadn't botched things after all. Her doubts scattered, along with her short bout of self-pity. This man wanted her, and she refused to question her good fortune.

Taking her time, she accepted the towel, wrapping the soft terry around her body until she could tuck the free end between her breasts. "Done," she said, with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.

A hoarse groan escaped her companion. "Time's up," he muttered.

Samantha swallowed hard. "It is?" To her chagrin, her voice trembled when she spoke. "You mean, now?"

She'd given him the location of her car and the keys, and she'd hoped to have clean clothes in which to seduce him. Her plans hadn't included his take-charge personality. The differences between fantasy and reality came back to haunt her again. She wasn't ready.

She'd have preferred a little get-to-know-you time first. She'd have liked a shower. Obviously, he had no need for such prerequisites, and nervousness once again replaced her prior certainty.

Yet when he held out his hand, she placed hers inside the large, warm palm. Touching him provided a sensual pleasure she couldn't have imagined. If she allowed herself to think about what was to come, she'd pass out on the tile floor. His long fingers wrapped around her smaller hand. Fingers she had no doubt could bring great pleasure.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well, what?" He couldn't possibly expect her to make the first move. She licked her lips, uncomfortably aware of the small bathroom space and his overpowering presence.

"Can we get on with this before the room becomes a sauna?"

Apparently the man wasn't into preliminaries. Samantha hoped he liked to bask in the afterglow, because the way things were going, this wasn't going to be the slow, sensual experience she'd envisioned.

"I don't think…"

"Oh, for God's sake. You don't want to go first, I will. My name's Mac," he said, shaking her hand with a determined grip. "What's yours?"

Mac stood in the door frame of the small bathroom, unable to believe he'd burst in without warning. When he'd heard the shatter of glass, he figured she'd come face-to-face with a rodent of some kind. Instead, she stood half dressed, staring at him as if he'd invaded her privacy. Which, considering the room she was in and her state of undress, he had.

"My… name?" She blinked, obviously startled.

"Yeah. I've seen pretty much everything, sweetheart." And he knew what she looked like when she was cold. His gaze inadvertently went to her chest, now covered by layers of terry cloth. "I doubt telling me your name would be considered a breach of etiquette."

She blushed scarlet. "Sam…" She paused in thought. "Just Sam."

She hadn't removed her hand from his, and he let his thumb drift over her skin. She didn't seem to mind, or she was too flustered to notice. Either way, he liked the way her palm fit into his.

"Sam." He played with the name, tossing it around in his mind, savoring it on his lips. Then he thought of the rounded breasts and the darkened nipples visible beneath the white top. His imagination conjured two perfectly shaped, creamy white cheeks. A masculine name didn't suit her and he shook his head. "Doesn't work for me. Short for Samantha?" he guessed.

She exhaled loudly. "Yes. But that doesn't work for me."

He smiled, enjoying this woman, if not yet understanding her. "Mind if I ask why not?"

"I'm on vacation, and I'd like to forget the people who call me that… at least for this week."

A runaway like himself. He understood the need to escape from life, work and the people who occupied those other worlds. Family gave Mac the best alternative, but they weren't close enough to offer a quick reprieve. Courtesy of her husband's job, his sister's family lived a couple of hours away, and with the birth of his first nephew, Mac's mother had moved out of the hotel to be closer to Kate. With his only family miles away-including a new baby he didn't see nearly often enough-Mac understood his recent restlessness. In fact, it was almost as if he was itching to settle down himself.

Short of that, Bear's place was his best and closest means of escape. He glanced at the woman whose hand he still held, wondering how far she'd run. And from what. "And after the week's up?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I go back to my life."

"To being Samantha."

"That's right." She pulled her hand back and hugged her arms around the fluffy towel. "I haven't had a vacation in years. So I thought I'd take a little time for myself before I go to a conference next weekend."

"Name someone who isn't in town for a conference. Arizona has become the convention capital Florida used to be." Which was why he was so successful.

His father had purchased desert land dirt cheap in the mid-1950s. After the older man's death, Mac had sold a small portion for much more than he'd ever imagined, and expanded the small bed-and-breakfast inn that had been his family's livelihood. By catering to the vacationer and the conference-goer, The Resort had become a gold mine. And the once-middle-income Mackenzies, Mac, his mother and sister, had become millionaires.