“Heard that, did you?”

“It wasn’t hard, he talks pretty darn loud.”

“He just couldn’t imagine what would possibly be keeping me, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. So tell me the truth,” she said. “Was this all a plan to get lucky tonight?”

“If I’d been trying to get lucky, I wouldn’t have terrified you first with the flight.”

She thought about that. “Good point,” she decided, and looked at the phone when it rang again, letting out a moan. “Why, Adam, what a shock,” she said when she answered. “Tell Cruz he’s a tattletale. We’re just stuck waiting for a part, not running off to get married. Talk to you tomorrow.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket and blew out a breath. “About this hotel… ”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to spend a lot of money.”

He knew the only thing she hated more than flying was being a burden to someone. “I don’t care about the money.”

“Hmm. Brady?”

“Yeah?”

“Two women?”

He sighed, and gently squeezed her fingers. “Let it go.”

Half an hour later, Brady had reserved a two-bedroom suite in a boutique hotel that the restaurant had recommended. It had a lush lobby, done up in luxurious Old West-style with leather and dark, rich woods. They managed to buy some toiletries for the night in one of the shops before going upstairs.

When Brady escorted Lilah to their floor, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Penthouse? How’s the penthouse being thrifty?”

He shrugged, then took her to the wide windows, where she gaped at the skyline view of Boise.

“Oh my God,” she said for the tenth time as they walked through the opulent place. “What did you do?”

“My money,” he reminded her.

“But it must have cost a fortune.”

He opened the door to her room, nudged her inside, and then when she whirled to face him, mouth open-no doubt to bitch him out some more-he gently shut the door in her face.

And went to his bedroom. He had to, or he’d have taken her right there, and he couldn’t do that. If they were going to sleep together again, it had to be her choice, not circumstance, but a real choice. He was flipping through one hundred and fifty channels on the TV when there was a quiet knock at his door. He opened it to Lilah.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

Putting her hands on his stomach to push him out of the way, she walked in.

Okaaaay. He leaned back against the door to study her. It was that or grab her and toss her to the bed. Since his fingers were itching to do just that, he jammed them into his pockets.

“Hi,” she said.

He smiled. “You already said that.”

She nodded. “Right. Listen, I forgot to mention one more thing that I’m afraid of besides flying.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m afraid to sleep alone in a hotel room. Suite. Mausoleum. Whatever.” She looked around the big fancy room. “Although yours doesn’t look as scary as mine.”

He arched a brow. They had the exact same rooms.

She returned his look with a guileless little smile. “So I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting me in,” she said.

He was beginning to think he would let her in anywhere, at any time, and in any place she wanted. His chopper, his hotel room, his life.

His fucking heart…

L ilah would have laid money down on Brady having her naked by now, but he was still standing all the way across the room, leaning back against the hotel room door just looking at her.

Silent.

He could be endlessly silent, she’d discovered. Miserly with words until she wanted to tear her hair out. Luckily she’d also learned that he was the opposite with his actions, instead being generous and infinitely giving, and it was those things she was interested in at the moment.

She wanted his hands on her. His mouth.

Everything.

“Is there a problem?” she finally asked him, unable to hold the silence.

“I don’t know yet.”

That had her raising a brow.

“You came here to jump my bones,” he said.

That startled a laugh out of her. “Yes. Yes, I believe I did.” He still didn’t move, and she cocked her head. “And look at you standing over there like a virgin on her wedding night.”

He didn’t react. He was good at that, too, at making her come right out and say exactly what was on her mind. No games, not for Brady. “We had dinner first,” she said, teasing. “Do you need more romancing?”

“Shit, Lilah.” He shoved his fingers through his short hair, making it stand straight up in spikes. He should have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t.

He looked hot and frustrated.

And hot.

He was staring her down, his dark blue eyes unreadable in the ambient hotel room lighting. She held his gaze, trying to outlast him, trying to convince him that she was totally cool and one hundred percent in charge of this situation, which of course she wasn’t.

Not even close.

“We need to talk,” he finally said.

Oh crap. The most dreaded three words in the English language. “Don’t tell me. You’re married.”

“What? No.”

“Engaged?”

“Jesus. No.”

Hmm. She was starting to feel a little better about this talking thing. “Are you in a relationship?”

He shot her a look of pure alpha male annoyance, and she felt her nipples go hard. Goodness, he was a force.

“You know I’m not,” he said. “Nor do I want to be.”

“Great.” She shrugged out of her top, leaving her in a tiger-striped demi-bra. She’d ordered it online from Victoria’s Secret with a coupon, and it made her boobs look perky.

He took one look at her and groaned. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Oh, I’m listening.” She unzipped her skirt. “You don’t want to be in a relationship. Which is perfect because what I want doesn’t involve much other than a condom, and I’m packing this time.”

He was staring at the condom she’d pulled out of her pocket. “You just happened to have a condom in your pocket?”

“Three. You are welcome.”

“You going to come any closer? Because I have to tell you, that whole smoldering, brooding thing you have going on is actually doing it for me.” She grinned. “You could just watch if you’d rather.”

He choked out a laugh.

“Or sit on your hands if you’re absolutely determined not to be a part of this.”

That did it. He shoved away from the door and slowly stalked her with the confidence of a big wildcat at the top of his food chain, crowding into her space, pushing her back until her legs hit the big, fluffy, elegant, fancy bed behind her.

“Sit on my hands?” he repeated in a voice so gruff she felt herself go damp. Suddenly the room was feeling waaay too small and she wondered if maybe she’d poked the tiger a little too hard. “If you must,” she whispered.

“Do your panties match your bra?” he asked, dipping his head to breathe the words in her ear, his hands going to her hips as if he intended to look for himself.

At the quick subject change, she blinked. “Yes.”

“Are they wet?”

Before she could answer, he pushed her skirt down. As she’d already learned, once he was in control, he showed no mercy, and now was no different. He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding down the backs of her thighs to open them wider. “Yeah,” he said when he had her legs the way he wanted them, his voice holding more than a hint of naughty accusation. “Wet.”

“I… ”

His hands skimmed up her inner thighs, meeting in the middle, where his thumbs brushed over her center, making her gasp.

At the sound, he surged to his feet, sliding his big hands up her now quivering body. She rocked into his touch as his mouth trailed along her jawline, nuzzling into her ear. “Look at me.”

With effort, she lifted her head.

“I love your eyes,” he said. “They glow when you’re turned on. They’re glowing like emeralds now.”