A SEAL's Temptation

“It takes a lot of talent to make something this intricate,” he said, waiting until her gaze met his to slide his hand over hers. He felt her fingers tremble even as he saw that spark heat. Her lips looked so soft as she puffed out a soft breath before tugging that full bottom cushion between her teeth. He wanted to do that for her, just nibble there for a little while.

“I’m good with my hands,” she finally said, her words so low they were almost a whisper.

How good? he wanted to ask, just before he dared her to prove it.

Before he could give in to the temptation, Sara came back into the room.

“This is a great apartment, Lark. Shane, you’re going to love staying here. It’s so comfy and cozy,” she said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’ll put groceries in this cute little kitchenette, then we’ll go get dinner, okay? Anywhere but the sports bar.”

Her words trailed off, then she giggled.

“What’chya guys doing?”

Lusting, dammit.

Shane blinked once, then shoved aside the knife-sharp edge of frustration, calling on his years of training to yank himself back under control.

“Nothing,” they both said at once.

“Uh-huh.” After a brief silence, Sara asked, “Lark, do you want to join us for dinner?”

Lark slowly shifted her gaze from Shane to his sister. She pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath that did amazing things for her lush breasts.

“Thanks.” Before Shane could decide if spending more time with her was good or bad, she shook her head. “I’ve got a lot to do tonight. Besides, I’m sure the two of you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Are you sure?” Folding the canvas grocery bag, Sara tucked it between the counter and the refrigerator before joining them. “I’d love for you to join us.”

With an unreadable look on her face, Lark gave Shane a long look again.

“I’d better not,” she said quietly. She took the key ring out of her pocket and slipped one key off. “This will get you back in later. Why don’t you guys go eat? I’ll set out the bedding, towels and such.”

He’d rather stay.

Which is why Shane didn’t object when Sara tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and called a goodbye to her friend.

He shot Lark one last glance on his way out the door. Not because he wanted to remember what she looked like—her image was etched on his brain. He just wanted to see if she was looking.

Damn.

She had the sexiest smile, standing there with that dragon in her hand. The one she’d made by fondling a long tube. Sure, the tube was clay, but he’d bet she was good enough to extend that talent to tubes of flesh.

And she was off-limits, he reminded himself as he followed Sara down the stairs. It was just as well that Sara had sideswiped his making a move on her friend.

His mind agreed.

His dick, however, called it pure bullshit.

3 (#ulink_752a3733-0b38-5ab8-aac9-59ce17d58e38)

GRABBING THE GROCERIES from the back of her Scout, Lark glanced at the back stairs of The Magic Beans building. Nerves danced in her stomach as she eyed the door to the apartment next to hers.

She must have gone over the bend into crazy.

What other reason was there for her blah, bland and boring behavior the day before? Instead of flirting or acting interested when she met the sexiest man in the world, she’d babbled about pottery.

Why else would she spend an entire night with her ear pressed against the adjoining wall just because she was fantasizing about the guy on the other side?

Where was she ever going to meet another guy with the perfect combination of a gorgeous face, a body hot enough to dim the sun and a personality that made her want to curl up on the couch and talk for hours?

When would she get another shot at a little fun to break up the miserable monotony that had become her life?

Yet, she’d blown it.

At first, she’d tried to excuse her behavior by reminding herself that Shane was Sara’s brother, so the standard dating rules were in effect. But somewhere around midnight, she’d remembered that oft-used loophole in the rules—that if the sibling never found out and it wasn’t a big deal, then the rule didn’t count.

Shane was only here for a few days, a week at the most. Despite his family, he clearly had no strong ties to the town. And she’d been without sex for over a year and a half. All of which, she’d decided, qualified her for the loophole.

But somewhere between her middle of the night fantasies and produce shopping, she’d made a vow. She wasn’t going to wimp out next time she saw Shane O’Brian.

Excitement danced in her belly as she reached the landing. Was Shane in the apartment? She wondered if he’d slept okay. She could stop in and ask. That was totally nonwimpy.

Maybe she should offer him some muffins or cookies from downstairs. She suddenly wished for some of Heather’s reputedly sex-inducing passionflower tarts. Or, she glanced at the cloth bag in her arms, at least something more exciting than granola.

Boring snack or not, checking on him was the neighborly thing to do. The fact that he was the sexiest, most appealing man she’d ever seen in her life had nothing to do with it.

But he was the sexiest, most appealing man she’d ever seen in her life. He might be quiet, but he was well-spoken with that deep, husky bedroom voice. And even though the idea of hooking up with a male stripper had its drawbacks, she figured it meant he had to have some seriously incredible moves—on and offstage.

Because she was so ready for hot, wild sex. The kind that came without commitments. The kind that came with multiple screaming orgasms.

She wanted to experience a wickedly wild affair.

And she knew exactly who she wanted to experience it with.

Because not only did he look as if he would be amazing in bed, but Shane O’Brian was the kind of guy she could get seriously hooked on.

She was halfway to his door when her feet stopped all by themselves and it hit her. She’d been hooked before. And she knew that hooked meant hurt.

Her eyes lingered on his door for a long moment, but she didn’t step forward to knock. Instead, she turned left and unlocked her own apartment.

As homes went, the place wasn’t very big. But it was hers.

She’d painted the walls a dusky blue leaning toward indigo and kept the windows bare. She’d sold most of her furniture when she’d given up her apartment, only keeping the pieces she loved most. Her purple velvet chaise lounge. The brass floor lamp with its dangling crystal shade. Her bedroom set, with its ornate brass headboard and etched armoire. And, of course, her art supplies.