Barbara Dunlop - His Convenient Virgin Bride / Seduction on the CEO’s Terms - His Convenient Virgin Bride

He was surprisingly strong, amazingly fast and obviously agile. His strength had given her a sense of security. Then later, while they’d argued, she’d felt a flare of something that was a whole lot more than security.

She couldn’t exactly put a name to it. But it was strong enough, that when Wesley had showed up, he’d seemed bland by comparison.

She spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth. As she replaced the toothbrush in the charger, she paused, gazing at herself in the mirror.

Attraction, she admitted, glancing at the door that led from the opposite side of the bathroom into the guest room where Alec was sleeping.

She was attracted to him.

She wanted it to be Wesley, but it was Alec.

She gritted her clean teeth, dragged a comb through her curls, braided them tight and snagged an elastic before heading back into her bedroom.

The window was wide, a cool breeze sliding down from the craggy peaks, while the horses blew and snorted in the fields below. Thoughts still on Alec, roving further into forbidden territory, she dropped her robe onto a chair and climbed between the crisp sheets. Her laundry was still behind, and she was prickly warm, so she’d gone with panties and an old tank top, soft as butter against her skin.

She closed her eyes, but nothing happened.

Well, nothing except an image of Alec appearing behind her eyelids.

When he first showed up, he was just a good-looking city guy. There were plenty of those in magazines and on television. And she’d never been particularly attracted to men based on looks alone.

But now she knew his business clothes masked solid muscles. Worse, she’d learned he had a quick mind and a whole lot of courage. And he’d likely saved her life—which was probably a classic aphrodisiac.

Whatever the cause, she could tell she wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon.

She tossed off her comforter, letting the breeze cool her skin, staring out at the three-quarter moon, trying not to think about Alec in the next room. So close.

No. Not so close. So far.

It was fine for her to lay here and fantasize, she told herself. It was perfectly normal and perfectly natural. In real life, it needed to be Wesley, but here in the dark of night …

She flipped onto her stomach. Then she fluffed her pillow and searched for a comfortable position.

She couldn’t find one. She flipped back again, reaching for the water glass on her bedside table. It was empty.

Sighing in frustration, she clambered from the bed and crossed the carpet to the bathroom. Opening the door, she flicked on the light.

That exact moment, the door from Alec’s room swung open. They both froze under the revealing glare, staring at each other in shock. Her hormones burst to instant attention, and she nearly dropped the glass.

Alec’s chest was bare, the top button of his slacks undone. His hair was mussed, and his chin showed the shadow of a beard. As she’d guessed from his embrace, his shoulders were wide, his biceps bulged, and the pecs on his deep chest all but rippled under the light.

His gaze flicked down her body, stopping at her panties, and tension flicked in the corners of his mouth. “Is that from today?”

Her heart pushed hard against her ribs, knowing the skimpy outfit was very revealing.

“Did I hurt you? “ he demanded.

And then she realized he wasn’t salivating over her bare legs, her skimpy top or the high-cut panties. His gaze had zeroed in on the bruise from where she’d fallen off Rosie-Jo.

She couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “It wasn’t you,” she assured him. “I fell off my horse.”

He took a step forward. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“It looks deep. Do you need some ice?”

I’m standing here nearly naked. “No.”

He moved closer still, and a hitch tightened in a band around her chest, while her hormones raced strategically around her body.

“It’ll take the swelling down,” he went on. “I can run to the kitchen and—”

“Alec!”

“What?”

“I’m standing here in my underwear.”

He blinked. “Right.” Then his eyes darkened to charcoal. “Right,” he said, his gaze skimming her from head to toe.

She wished she could tell what he was thinking, but his expression gave away nothing. After a long minute, he drew a breath. “Sorry.” He took a step back.

“Alec—”

He shook his head, holding up his palms. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

He was right, of course. But she couldn’t seem to stop the thick layer of disappointment that slid its way through her stomach. Did he not find her even remotely attractive?

She guessed not, since he hadn’t even noticed how she was dressed until she’d pointed it out.

He might have saved her life. He might care about her physical safety. But apparently it was in a purely platonic way.

“I wasn’t—” He took another backward step. “I didn’t—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Then he shot through the doorway to firmly click the door shut behind him.

Stephanie was sorry, too. But she suspected it was for an entirely different reason.

Alec spent the next few days working as fast as humanly possible and avoiding Stephanie as much as he could—which didn’t turn out to be difficult, since she was an early riser, and she worked long hours.

Keeping himself from thinking about her proved a considerably tougher challenge. The picture of her in her tank top and panties was permanently seared into his brain stem.

Her face had been scrubbed and shiny, not that she ever seemed to wear makeup. Her shoulders were smooth and lightly tanned, her breasts were perfectly shaped, barely disguised under the thin, white fabric of the well-worn top. Her legs were long and toned, accented by the triangular, flat lace insets of her panties. And her waist was nipped in, stomach flat and smooth.

It had taken all of his willpower not to surge across the tiny bathroom and drag her into his arms.

He drew a shuddering breath, pulled the borrowed ranch truck transmission into fourth gear, and sped up on the final stretch of the road between Stephanie’s equestrian stable and the main cattle ranch.

Business Consulting 101, he ruthlessly reminded himself. Keep your hands off the clients’ sister. His business had been built on integrity. His clients trusted him with sensitive problems that were often high stakes and high risk. If he tossed his principles and made a pass at a client, no one would ever be able to trust him again.

In a self-preservation move, rather than talk to Stephanie face-to-face about her publicity history, he’d mentioned the scrapbooks to Amber. Amber had helpfully offered to hunt them down.

He’d already developed a comprehensive picture of the Ryder Equestrian Center from a business perspective. Not that he was under any illusion that the Ryder brothers wanted to learn the truth about their sister’s profitability.

In any event, once he finished with the scrapbooks, he’d head back to the safety of his Chicago office, away from the temptation of Stephanie. The report would stand on its merits. Jared and Royce could use it or ignore it. It was completely up to them.

The main ranch house came into view, and he geared down to control the dust, bringing the truck to a smooth stop on the circular driveway between the house, the barns and the corrals.

Like Stephanie’s place, the original ranch house was set on the Windy River. Groves of trees and lush fields stretched out in all directions. There was a row of staff cabins accessed by a small bridge across the river. Working horses were corralled near the house, while clusters of brown and white cattle dotted the nearby hillsides.