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shorts."
"Now, what makes you think I'm any kind of a gentleman?" he asked amusedly.
She blinked. Now there was a question. She put her purse on the dresser. "Uh, if
you don't mind, I'd like to go ahead and take my bath."
"Through there," he indicated a door. "It's a sunken tub with a heated whirlpool,"
he added. "Just the thing to relax tension."
"Thank you." She went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and found a
plush washcloth and towel that matched the burgundy decor. The sunken tub was
enormous, almost filling the room, almost big enough to swim in. Abby stripped down
quickly after she'd filled it with water and activated the whirlpool unit. As an
afterthought, she filled it with bubble bath as well, sending up a cloud of delicious
fragrance into the air.
She sank down into the swirling warmth of the water with a huge sigh, her hair
loosely pinned atop her head to keep it dry. She closed her eyes and let her tired
muscles relax. The whirlpool was just the thing to chase away tension. And
wondering how she was going to manage a night in bed with McCallum without
screaming from pure frustration was anybody's guess. She was viewing the situation
with a jumble of emotions. A part of her wanted more than sleep. Another part was
uneasy about that kind of commitment. What she felt for McCallum had grown from
an uneasy friendship to a steaming inferno of desire; but not an altogether physical
one. While she did want him desperately, she admitted to herself for the first time
that she wanted more than a night in his arms. She wanted much more than that.
While she was trying to work out her emotions, she heard the door open. With
shocked green eyes she appraised McCallum as he walked in, stark naked, and found
himself a washcloth and towel.
She couldn't even get out a question. Her eyes were helplessly riveted to that
muscular, tanned body as he got his electric razor from the cabinet and began to
shave.
"I'm taking a bath," she said in a squeaky voice.
He glanced at her with an amused smile, noticing the line of soap bubbles that
barely covered her creamy breasts. "So I see. Do you like the whirlpool?" he asked
over the combined hums of the razor and the whirlpool unit.
"Oh, yes, I. . . I like it very much, thanks." Well,
if he could be nonchalant about it, she could, too.
They were both adults. She'd been married, she
wasn't naive.
Her fascinated eyes ran up his muscular legs, over his slim hips and broad, heavy
shoulders. He was so deliriously masculine, it was all she could do not to climb out of
the tub and run her hands over him. She'd never wanted to touch Gene like that,
but she'd have given a week's salary just to caress McCallum's smooth, bronzed
skin.
"You were right about Collette," he admitted wryly. "But, for future reference, I'm
not usually wrong about people. She threw me a curve."
"Naturally. You aren't used to naive little things," she teased.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "No? I've had you around long enough that I should
be."
"I'm not naive."
"About sex, you most certainly are. Delightfully naive," he added sensuously, before
she could take offense.
She dabbed at her face with the soapy cloth for something to do. She felt
completely out of her element.
"No comment?" he teased. He finished with the razor and put it back in the cabinet,
pausing to splash after-shave on his smooth cheeks. "Don't tell me you're shy?" he
chided as he turned around.
She couldn't help the blush. It was simply unavoidable. She dropped her eyes to the
washcloth. "I'm not shy at all," she said bravely.
He laughed deeply. "Then why won't you look at me?"
"I'm bathing," she ground out.
"Which does sound like a good idea." And while she was still trying to figure that
one out, he picked up his washcloth and towel, threw the latter onto a vanity chair
beside the tub, and climbed down into the soap bubbles beside Abby.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abby's face managed to capture shock, outrage, and fascination in one expression
as McCallum slid down into the water right beside her, the soap bubbles catching in
the thick mat of hair across his broad chest.
He sighed deeply. "God, that feels good. I've thought about having one of these
installed in the apartment, but somehow I never got around to it. Just the thing
after a rough day, isn't it, Abby?"
"It's very nice," she agreed. His shoulder was touching hers, and she felt shock
waves all the way to her toes, ripples of sweet sensation.
"Soap?"
She handed it to him. "Do you think Nicky is serious about Collette?" she asked with
a valiant effort at nonchalance.
"I think it's a definite possibility," he admitted. He lathered his arms and his chest,
and Abby watched him with a dull ache inside her tense body.
He glanced at her and lifted an eyebrow. "Ever fancied yourself as a geisha?" he
teased. "How about doing my back?"
He handed her the soapy cloth and turned so that she could reach the muscles,
silky with water and dotted with soap bubbles.
She took it and began to smooth it over his darkly tanned skin. She ached to be
closer, to touch him without the cloth between her fingers and his hard-muscled
body.
While she was trying to stifle the growing hunger, he turned around and saw that
look in her eyes before she could erase it.
His chest rose and fell heavily while they looked at each other for a long moment.
Then, wordlessly, he took the cloth out of her hand and tossed it into the water.
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