The Bare Facts Read Online Free PDF Page B

in his little black book under L.
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    T HE MAJESTIC SNOW-COVERED mountains loomed over them, creating an intimate, sizzling tension in the car. Trees filled the landscape, boxing them in. Devoid of leaves, their limbs reached to the sky, standing mute and waiting for spring. When she and Dylan arrived at his rustic cabin in New Jersey’s Sourland Mountains, the word rustic did not describe the structure at all. Although it was built of seasoned wood and resembled a cabin, the place was a beautiful wood and glass structure that screamed money.
    â€œNice place, Dylan. I can see we’re going to have to rough it.”
    Haley picked up the bag with the sauce and the small Crock-Pot to warm it, throwing the outrageous white bearskin rug over her shoulder.
    â€œHey.” He pulled the rug off her shoulder. “That’s a great rug. I’ll carry it for you.”
    â€œDylan, didn’t you see it when I put it in the car after you picked me up?” Haley smiled warmly, taken in by his boyish interest over the rug.
    â€œI wasn’t looking at the rug, Haley.”
    The soft tone of his voice and the obvious interest in his eyes caused nerves to unfold in her midriff. She drew an uneven breath, trying to control her emotions. It was going to be so hard to keep them separate from the sex.
    Her tongue darted out to lick her sensitive and tingling lips. She had to keep reminding herself that it was just sex.
    They climbed the short flight of stairs to the door. On the porch, next to the door, were a couple of boxes filled with groceries.
    Haley frowned, shooting him a suspicious sidelong glance. “Where did the food come from?”
    â€œI have it delivered whenever I come up here.”
    He looked totally innocent, but Haley had a sneaking suspicion that Dylan was very good at that I’m-not-up-to-anything look. He’d probably perfected it with his mother.
    â€œDylan, I said I couldn’t stay for dinner.”
    â€œI know, but you never know about the weather in the mountains and it pays to be prepared.”
    â€œYou are such the conscientious Boy Scout.”
    â€œI might be very conscientious, but I’m no Boy Scout.”
    Slow heat bloomed low in her abdomen. There was no mistaking the look in Dylan’s eyes. It certainly wasn’t boyish at all. Dylan was one hundred percent man.
    She waited while he opened the door and she had to remind herself to breathe. He was dressed in ababy-blue Henley that heightened the dark color of his skin, a navy fleece vest, a pair of tight hip-hugging jeans and rugged hiking boots. He looked so different in these clothes. Less corporate, more approachable. She wished he would put that suit back on. But she guessed that wouldn’t help with the fantasy.
    She followed him into the cozy living room. The fire in the hearth was already laid and ready to set ablaze.
    He arranged the rug and a bunch of plump jewel-tone pillows. Taking the sauce and the Crock-Pot from her, he plugged in the appliance, unscrewed the top of the jar and dumped the sauce in to warm. Then he lit the fire. The kindling caught and flames flared up, both beautiful and deadly. He set the screen in front of the fire and turned toward her, preparing to rise.
    She unbuttoned her coat and pulled it off. Dylan hesitated in midrise. She’d chosen a ribbed black turtleneck and a pair of black stretch jeans. Like him, she thought hiking boots were smart footwear, especially since it looked as if it might snow.
    Rising slowly, he didn’t take his eyes away from her. She got distracted at the way his thighs bunched. The way his powerful forearms looked.
    Suddenly uneasy, she pulled her eyes away from him and walked to the bank of windows that overlooked the breathtaking view of the mountains.
    â€œIt’s beautiful here.” She didn’t think she could go through with this. It seemed too clinical, not the kind of experience she wanted.
    He came over to her.