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brazen it out. “You’re very handsome,” she said as coolly
as she could, “but you already know that. I can enjoy the view, but that
doesn’t mean I want to do anything about it.”
                 His
laugh was raspy. “I’d like to enjoy the view, as well. How about you take some
things off for me? Doesn’t seem fair you get to ogle and I don’t.”
                 If
she turned any redder, she’d burst into flame. “No one ever said life was
fair.”
                 The
heat and humor in his eyes banked for a moment. For some reason, it bothered
her. He was mercurial, Jack Wolfe. She wanted to know what he was thinking,
what kind of memories had the power to dim the heat in those remarkable eyes.
The thought it might be a woman did not comfort her.
                 No,
it made her prickly. And that made no sense at all.
                 “Why
don’t you go run that bath?” he finally said when they’d been staring at each
other for several moments without speaking.
                 She
felt like she should say something, but instead she went into the bathroom and
turned on the tap. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she manage to string
two coherent sentences together when he looked at her as if he wanted to devour
her? She’d fielded plenty of come-ons from drunken gamblers during her time
working in the casino—she knew what to say, how to deflate their ambition while
also keeping them at the table. So why couldn’t she find that skill with this
man?
                 When
she returned to the bedroom, Jack had managed to stand on his own. He’d undone
his belt and zipper, but his pants hung low on his hips, revealing smooth skin
and a dark arrow of hair pointing the way to his groin. Cara swallowed as her
heart picked up speed again.
                 God,
she was acting like a timid virgin. She had to stop this nonsense, had to help
him into the tub before she could lie on the bed and turn on the television. It
was late, but she was too keyed up to sleep just now. A bit of mindless
television was usually just what the doctor ordered when insomnia hit.
                 “Do
you need help?” she asked, praying he would say no. His shirt was one thing,
but his pants?
                 For
once, he looked apologetic instead of devilish. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take
them off. Bending is hell at the moment.”
                 Cara
thought of something her friend LeeAnn had once said. LeeAnn had gone to
nursing school and now worked in the ICU, taking care of critical patients.
According to LeeAnn, you got used to seeing naked men after a while. It was
just a job, no matter how good-looking the man.
                 Cara
squared her shoulders. Yes, this was a job, a mission of mercy. Jack Wolfe was
attractive, but this wasn’t about attraction. This was about helping a patient
into the bath.
                 Except
that, even in this state, he seemed too big, too virile and male, to be a
patient. He was stiff and sore, but he wasn’t incapacitated.
                 Determinedly,
she pushed his trousers down his hips until all that was left were a pair of
boxers.
                 “I
should warn you,” he said when she hooked her fingers into the waistband. Cara
looked up, met his silver gaze head-on. His eyes were both cool and hot and she
wondered how he did that, how he managed to seem so in control and on the edge
all at once. “I’m not unaffected by a beautiful woman removing my clothes, even
in this state.”
                 Cara
licked suddenly dry lips. Her throat felt like sand. Jack’s eyes darkened as he
followed the movement of her tongue.
                 “I’ll
keep it in mind,” she managed huskily.
                 And
then she was bending and sliding his boxers down his muscled thighs until she
could let them fall at his