“Huh?”
“Your mouth’s wide open. I can see that you have three silver fillings and maybe a crown.” He took her chin in his hand and peered into her mouth.
“Haha.” Reese snapped her jaw closed, jerked out of his touch, and glared at him. “I’m just in shock. I never would have guessed you could clean up so well.”
He just smiled. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment. Now, shall we go?”
He offered his arm, which she took reluctantly, flustered at her reaction. Also, she was annoyed that he hadn’t said anything about the way she looked. It wasn’t easy walking in those stilettos—he could at least acknowledge that her legs looked good.
“You look incredible,” he whispered in her ear. “But all I can think about is you naked.”
Reese caught herself before she tripped in the toothpicks called shoes she was walking on. She swallowed hard and commanded herself not to look at him or to think about nudity in any shape or form. If she allowed her raucous thoughts to travel the path she wanted to, it was probable they wouldn’t even end up at the wedding, but would turn around and head up in the elevator to her room.
“Are you wearing any panties?” he asked as they stepped into the revolving door together.
Reese stopped moving and the door thunked her butt from behind. He put his foot between her and the glass to stop her from losing the back of her heel to the relentless motion of the heavy door.
His eyes were dark, his left hand in his pants pocket. There was a predatory stance about him that made her nervous.
“Of course I am. They’re big and plain white, with one of those stomach flaps on them to hold my gut in. Not sexy at all.”
He had done something to his hair, trimmed it and slicked it back a little with hair gel, giving it that tousled model look. Reaching up, he brushed his bangs back and up with a little jerk of his hand.
“You’re lying again.”
Then that hand, that wandering, big, hard man hand, slid down her side and around between them to cup and squeeze herbehind. Warmth flooded her ivory thong panties as she sucked in her breath and tried not to moan.
“See? I don’t feel any panty lines at all.” That hand moved over, over until his finger traced the dip between her cheeks, sliding down, low, floating back up until she was moist with need, her body tense.
A knock on the glass had Knight pulling his hand away. Dazed and disappointed, Reese turned toward the sound.
A man was standing on the street, holding his suitcase in hand and looking seriously annoyed.
“The thing about these revolving doors,” the guy said with biting sarcasm, “is that you can’t stop moving in them.”
Embarrassed and horny, Reese pushed the door without warning, causing the guy to jump back. “Sorry,” she said with a wobbly smile as he had to step out of the way for her and Knight to exit.
Charging ahead, no destination in mind, she was heading down the sidewalk when Knight grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. “Hey, slow down. Let’s call a cab.”
“Fine.” She glowered at him.
He let out a chuckle and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “What’s the matter? You look like you might rip my head off.”
“Is that possible?” she said testily.
“You want to explain why you’re so upset?”
“Because it ticks me off that you look so good.”
His eyebrow rose. “You’d rather I’d have shown up looking scruffy and unattractive?”
“Yes. No.” She blew out her breath, making a raspberry sound with her lips. “I mean, with you distracting me looking like an FBI pinup, I can’t concentrate on this case, which you failed to tell me involved Phillip Chatterton, by the way.”
Knight dropped his hand, which he’d been hailing a cab with, and shot her a guarded look. “This case doesn’t involve you, Reese, and it’s a simple coincidence that you’re going to Chatterton’s wedding.”
“Oh, right, how stupid do you think I am?” Reese covered her arms and rubbed. The late September wind was kicking up a little, raising goose bumps on her flesh. “You’re going to bust him, aren’t you?”
“Not today, for Christ’s sake. It’s his wedding.” Knight turned and called the bellboy over, who had just finished loading a suitcase rack with luggage. “We need a cab, please.”