Jacquie ’Alessandro - A Sure Thing?

"What are you doing?" she called.

"Brushing my teeth."

He emerged a minute later, and walked past her, leaving her to breathe in a whiff of his masculine scent mixed with mint. After pulling back the covers on the far side of the bed, he scrunched up the pillow, then laid down on his side facing away from her.

"'Night, Jilly. Sweet dreams."

'Night, Jilly? Sweet dreams? Was he insane? He didn't look insane, but what did she know? There had to be some inkling of insanity lurking under that masculine exterior if he thought there was a snowball's chance in hell of her being able to sleep next to him. And dream? Not likely. No, she'd stare up at the ceiling, listening to him breathe, remembering what he'd felt like pressed up against her, cupping her breast, hating herself for remembering, and growing more and more annoyed that her presence obviously had no effect on him.

This was what came of concentrating too much on her career and not devoting enough attention to her social life. Nine months, three weeks and eighteen days of celibacy, mixed with a nearly naked gorgeous man was proving disastrous to her ability to keep her wits about her. And this with a guy she didn't trust as far as she could throw him. Thank God she didn't like him or else this situation would be a real disaster.

She gazed down at him, noting that his breathing was already slow and regular. Since she'd made it a rule long ago to steadfastly avoid any activities that could result in jail time, there was no point in contemplating tossing him over the balcony. Besides, based on the heated shivers she'd already experienced, touching him was not a good idea.

She eyed the chintz-covered wing chair near the desk, but decided it was ridiculous to attempt to sleep on it. All that would result in would be a stiff neck, and why should she? This was her room! Maybe it had been booked at his request, but she'd gotten here first. Squatter's rights, and all that. And Matt, drat him, was already asleep. If he could live with these arrangements for the next few hours, so could she.

Switching off the light, she gingerly slid between the covers. Moving as little as possible, she situated herself on her side as close to the edge of the mattress as possible without falling off, facing away from Matt. Once she was comfortable, she blew out a long breath of relief.

There. This wasn't so bad. So what if his beautiful, barely covered body rested less than three feet away? So what if she could hear him breathing? What difference did it make that she could feel the heat emanating off him against her back? Why, she barely noticed.

Yeah right, her inner voice snickered. That's why your heart is pounding, your nipples are hard, and your body feels like it's roasting over a slow flame.

Humph. Why the heck couldn't she be like Matt? He wasn't having any trouble sleeping, a fact which irked her to no end, driving sleep even further away.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for sleep, strongly suspecting that that was one prayer destined to go unanswered.

* * *

Matt lay in the dark, wide-awake, forcing slow, even breaths into his lungs, but the effort cost him as he was decidedly short-winded, as if he'd run a mile uphill. Instead of falling into the dead sleep that had beckoned less than an hour ago, he felt like someone had hooked him up to a nuclear power plant and flipped the switch. Where the hell had his gritty-eyed, muscle-weakening exhaustion disappeared to?

Stupid question. He knew where it had gone-straight out the window the instant he'd clapped his bugged-out eyeballs on a nearly naked Jilly Taylor. An hour ago he'd thought he was too tired for sex. Ha! Now he couldn't erase the thought from his overactive mind, not to mention his very alert body.

How was a guy supposed to sleep when all that warm, smooth, fragrant, silky, bare female flesh was within reach? Flesh that he'd touched. Molded beneath his hand. Feminine softness that had pressed against him. Damn it, he wanted to touch her again. This time while fully awake.

Why the hell didn't her sleepwear match the sort of clothes she wore to work? Instead of black satin, she should have been wrapped up, chin to toes, in flannel.

Of course, all those carbs and sugar in the candy he'd consumed for dinner wasn't helping the situation. He brightened immediately. Yeah, that's why he couldn't sleep-carbs and sugar. And this slight arousal problem? Just an involuntary body response.

Slight arousal problem? his inner voice scoffed. Right. And Jilly Taylor almost naked is just slightly gorgeous. And the knowledge that she's less than an arm's length away is only slightly disturbing.

He heard her sigh and his every muscle tensed. This was not good.

And this was going to be one hell of a long night.

A persistent ringing penetrated Matt's brain. He pried open one eyeball and groaned. Darkness. Who the hell was calling him in the middle of the night?

He reached out and snatched up the receiver. Before he could say a word, a perky mechanical voice said, "Good morning, this is the wake-up call you requested. The time is 6:30 a.m. Have a good day."

His eyes flew open. Wake-up call. Chateau Fontaine. Jack Witherspoon.

Jilly Taylor.

He sat up like someone had attached a catapult to his shoulders. Turning, he noted with relief that his sleep-destroying co-worker was not in the bed with him. Raking his hands through his hair, he registered the sound of the shower running.

Instantly, an image of Jilly, wet, naked and soapy filled his mind, and his groin instantly tightened. Terrific. A morning erection. This day was only forty seconds old and already it sucked. Frowning, he shook his head to clear away the lust-filled fog she'd somehow enveloped him in. What on earth was wrong with him? Hunger. Lack of sleep. Obviously he'd dozed off at some point during the wee hours, but he felt anything but rested. He needed coffee, and lots of it. He wondered if room service would provide him with a caffeine IV drip.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he stood and rolled his shoulders to loosen his tense muscles, then walked to the window. A peek through the pale green curtains revealed that it was still dark, the expanse of flat landscape illuminated only by the resort's floodlights. Fat snowflakes continued to fall, blanketing the outdoors with a carpet of white.

The shower cut off, and he turned, quickly crossing to his overnight bag where he pawed through his clothes, then pulled out a pair of dark blue sweatpants. He'd just slipped them on when the bathroom door opened, engulfing him in a cloud of fragrant steam. A tousle-haired, damp, towel-clad Jilly Taylor materialized from that lusciously scented vapor, a curvaceous goddess emerging through the mist like Venus gliding to the shore in a Botticelli painting.

She caught sight of him and stopped dead in her tracks, clutching the sarong-wrapped towel tighter against her breasts. Every thought except Whoaaaaa, baby fled from his head.

It certainly wasn't the best moment for him to forget how to speak English, but unfortunately God had given him a brain and a penis, and only enough blood for one of them to function at a time. And at this particular moment, his brain was not in charge. And when-make that if-his brain was ever in charge again, he was going to try to recall when he'd last been so powerfully attracted to a woman.

"I didn't know you were up," she said.

You don't know the half of it. Reaching down, he snatched up his sweatshirt from his overnight bag which yawned open at his feet. He rose and, feeling like an idiot, held the worn, gray material in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. "I left a wake-up call. I'm meeting Jack for breakfast at nine."

Something flashed in her eyes, sending up a warning flag. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "What time are you meeting with him today?"

She hesitated, then said, "I'm having breakfast with him as well. At seven-thirty."

Matt's fingers tightened around his sweatshirt. The fact that she was meeting with Jack first didn't bode well. Damn it, she'd have her foot in the door first, a definite advantage. But the real question was, how far would Jilly go to win ARC'S account? She was ambitious-was she unethical as well? On a clean playing field, he could compete with anyone. But would she play fair? Or would she turn out to be another Tricia and use her feminine wiles to win Jack's favor? After their breakup, he'd learned Tricia had slept with a potential client to get his business. Would Jilly do the same? If so, that was definitely something he couldn't compete with, and gave her an advantage that set his teeth on edge.

"Look, Matt, I've been thinking a lot about this," she said, regaining his attention. "I'm not any happier about our situation than you are. I think Adam placed us both in a very awkward situation, made even worse by the fact that we're going to end up sharing this room. I called the front desk when I woke up, and there's nothing they can do. And I don't see either one of us checking out and finding a room elsewhere… right?"

"I'm not moving out."

"Right. And neither am I." She pushed her damp hair back, tucking the dark strands behind her ear, and he absolutely did not notice how smooth and silky and touchable her damp flesh appeared. "That being the case, I think we should lay some ground rules-just a few guidelines to keep the level of awkwardness down to a minimum."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, first, I think we should agree to remain, um, clothed at all times."

Her gaze skimmed over his bare chest, and he wasn't sure if he was more relieved or alarmed by the quick flash of unmistakable desire he saw flicker in her eyes. Relieved, because, thank God he wasn't the only one feeling this unwanted attraction. By damn, misery loved company. But alarmed, because, holy hell, if she was feeling the same powerful desire he was, how could they possibly hope to fight it?

He nodded slowly, forcing his gaze to remain on hers and not wander over her luscious form. "Fine. Clothes on at all times. Although, I have to warn you, that's going to make showering a challenge."

Her lips twitched, drawing his attention to their ripe fullness. How was it possible that he'd worked with her all these months yet neglected to notice how beautiful her mouth was? He made a mental note to schedule an appointment to have his eyes checked. Or maybe he had noticed, but since he hadn't been thinking about Jilly in terms of kissing her, the lusciousness of her mouth just hadn't registered.

Well, it was registering now. Big time. Those full, pouty, unpainted lips silently beckoned him to step forward and taste them. It was all he could do to keep his bare feet planted in place and not give in to the temptation.

"Clothes on at all times-except to shower," she amended.

He nodded his agreement. "What else?"

"Well, in the interest of fair play, I think we should agree to stay out of each other's way as far as Jack Witherspoon is concerned." Her golden-brown gaze was direct and steady. "I want this account. I intend to play hard, and I always play to win. I fully expect the same from you. But it's not my style to play dirty. I'd like the same consideration from you."

He studied her for several seconds, trying to figure out what her angle was. Sure, she seemed honest, sounded trustworthy, looked sexy-er, sincere, but he wasn't about to be taken in again by an ambitious competitor. "You mean don't encroach on each other's time with Jack?" he asked.

"Exactly. Or try to sabotage each other's work."

He raised a brow, irked and insulted by the suggestion. "You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?"

"I'm suspicious by nature."

"As am I."

"Which is why I think it's important that we lay these ground rules. I have every intention of fighting, but you have my word that I'll fight fair-provided you promise you'll do the same."

"Contrary to what you obviously believe, I don't cheat," he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. "I don't need to."

"Good. Neither do I." She held out her hand. "Deal?"

Although he remained suspicious of her motives, he nodded. He'd play as fair as she did. So long as she kept up her end of the bargain, so would he. But if she played the seduction card with Jack, all-out war would rage, and then she'd be sorry. All's fair in love and war, Jilly. Not that love had anything to do with this. No. Just war. And he hoped it wouldn't come to that.