Code Name: Bikini

The sweater came off. Cool air skimmed her naked breasts. She sensed Trace’s presence nearby.

Warm cloth settled around her shoulders.

“How’s that?” His voice was low and rough.

“F-fine.” No, it wasn’t fine. It was a very bad idea. Gina realized the uniform jacket was warm with the heat of his body, as intimate as the touch of his hands on her sensitive skin. The fabric also carried his scent, a mix of crisp outdoor air, citrus soap and sweat.

Kill me now, she thought dimly, intensely aware of how close he was standing.

Her nipples hardened as the cloth touched and skimmed, driving her crazy with the thought of his callused hands curved over all the same places.

Hel-lo.

The man is a stranger. Did you lose all functioning cells of your brain when the light went out?

There was only one answer.

Yes.

She felt reckless and hot, her fingers digging into the long sleeves of his uniform jacket. Whatever she wanted, he would do it. Here and now. They were alone and she’d never see him again, so what would it matter to let go, just this once?

“Are you ready to go? Your people will be waiting. Maybe you should call them.”

Earth to Mars. The man was dead right. When had her brain blown every fuse? “I’m ready. You can turn on that light again. Then I’ll make my call.”

She heard the rustle of cloth and saw his chest, rows of hard muscles outlined beneath a white T-shirt, caught in the glow of her knitting needle.

The sight made her knees go soft. Okay, the man had a chest out of her deepest fantasies. So what? You didn’t go to bed with a man just because he had a fantastic chest and abs to die for.

At least you shouldn’t, she thought wildly.

“My first topic is bed.” Gina felt her face go hot. “I mean, bread. Then I’m doing puff pastry and custard-style desserts. Andreas will be able to get things started.”

“Bread. I’ve always loved a hot loaf fresh from the oven. You must be a great teacher. And don’t worry about your sweater. I’ll bring it to you.” He took her arm, guiding her up a set of narrow metal steps.

Sweater? What sweater?

She was worrying about a lot more than some cashmere yarn. Right now her sanity seemed to be at risk.

“I appreciate your help.” She tried to ignore the way his muscles bunched and flexed as he moved in front of her to open an interior door.

But she couldn’t ignore the way her nipples felt, tight and hot, driving against the soft lining of his uniform. The friction was making her lose all focus as her body came alive.

“By the way, was that Mongolian cashmere? Four-ply?”

She simply stared at him.

All this, and the man knew about yarn, too? Be still my beating heart, she thought dizzily.

She managed to make her voice cool and casual. “You noticed that?”

“My friend is a knitter. A fanatic, actually. When she finally scored a whole bag of cashmere on eBay, she went nuts. I heard about it for months.”

“Your friend is a she?” Somehow the question just tumbled out. “Not that it’s any of my business,” she said stiffly.

His fingers cradled her wrists. For a moment he held her lightly, their bodies touching, while the sense of contact between them grew, nearly electric. Gina’s throat went dry.

“Miki,” he said quietly. “A she. Just a friend, in case it’s important.”

It shouldn’t have been.

She barely knew the man, so his friends and background were of no possible significance.

Like hell, they weren’t.

“You’re not—married or anything? Seeing anyone, I mean.” Great job, Ryan. Spell it out, why don’t you? Let him know you’re a complete tongue-tied idiot in a major state of lust.

“No one.” He slid one hand slowly over her hair. Just that and no more, letting the warm strands play through his fingers as if they were infinitely interesting. “What about you?”

Gina took a deep breath. “No one for me, either. No time for any of that stuff.”

“Good.” The word was rough.

He moved before she knew it, and his mouth brushed hers, careful and slow. Gina made a lost sound. Somehow her fingers were locked around his strong shoulders and there was no space between them. With her thigh to his, she felt the sudden tension of his body.

“Hell,” he whispered.

“What?”

“This. You. It shouldn’t be happening.” His tongue slid against hers, hot and searching, and Gina’s fingers tightened. He kissed her hard as if he couldn’t stop himself, but had to try. His arousal was unmistakable.

The suggestive pressure at the base of her stomach made her greedy for more.

The sharp vibration of her cell phone jolted her back to reality. She shouldn’t be doing this. She had never been interested in casual sex. She hadn’t been too good with long-term relationships, either. But the slick, damp feeling between her legs told Gina that her body was making up for lost time.

The vibration continued, and she dug in her purse, found her cell phone and answered breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“Chief, where are you?” Andreas sounded worried. “I’ve got Reggie at bat, but the natives are restless. You’ve got four food critics and six reporters up here, and they want you, not us.”

“I’m on the way. Ask Reggie to grab an extra white jacket in my size and leave it out, okay?”

“Why—”

“Don’t ask. Just stall. I’ll be there in five.”

“You got it. There’s a television crew here, too. Someone from the home office set it up and forgot to let us know.”

Gina coughed back a sound of dismay. No need to worry Andreas more than he already was. “Not a problem. We’ll start with the bed recipe—I mean, bread,” she said quickly.