Earth Angel by Linda Cajio Read Free Book Online

like this.”
    She was helpless to do anything else. Her body was breast to chest and hip to hip with his. His hand was at the small of her back, his fingers pressing her into him. Their thighs brushed together, his slipping lightly between hers. He kept her one hand wrapped in his, tucked into his chest. Her left hand rested lightly on his shoulder, and it took all the effort she had not to explore the hard muscles under the silk shirt.
    The music faded; the other dancers were barely on the edge of her consciousness. Every inch of her torso was aware of every inch of his. Every sense was aware of his breath against her hair … his scent imprinting on her brainwaves … his mouth just there for the tasting …
    She had been terrified to dance the blatant lambada with him, but this was much worse. The lambada was all sex and no tenderness. As they swayed to the gentle rhythm, she felt as if they were making love in front of everyone—slowly, prolonging the passion in a test of control before a wild burst of ecstasy erupted.
    “You feel so right,” he murmured. “I knew you would.”
    Some shred of sanity told her to keep it light. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
    He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. The sweeping lights hid his expression. “Hardly.”
    She laughed, and it sounded like a donkey caught in quicksand. That was about how she felt. “You give a very impressive business dinner, Miles.”
    He looked down between them, obviously admiring the swells of her breasts crushed against his chest. “You are a very impressive business dinner partner.”
    The heat of embarrassment flooded her face as a deeper, more volatile heat flooded her abdomen. At this rate, she would be in his bed before midnight.
    “I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned, appalled at her uncontrollable reaction to him.
    Miles immediately stopped dancing and stepped away from her, his hands tight on her upper arms. He peered at her intently. “You’re going to be sick?”
    She realized he’d overheard her and actually thought she was unwell. She seized on the notion.
    “Yes,” she said, slumping and letting his hands take more of her weight. “The smoke … my stomach …”
    “Right. We’ll get you home.” He hustled her off the dance floor and toward the exit.
    Catherine went along quietly. Hell’s bells, she thought in awe. She’d just performed a miracle.
    They arrived at her place in record time. There was one little hitch at the door.
    “I’ll stay awhile to make sure you’re okay,” Miles said.
    The gentlemanly gesture really did set her stomach to churning. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine with a little rest. All that smoke just got to me. Like I told you in the car, my allergy to it flares up from time to time.”
    “I don’t know.” He frowned at her, peering at her in a way Sherlock Holmes would have admired. “I have to admit you don’t look as washed out as you did on the dance floor.”
    Thank goodness for stark lighting, she thought. She turned her various keys in the right locks and opened the door. “Just getting out of there helped. I’m really sorry about this.”
    He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Good night, Miles.”
    “Good night, Catherine.” He stepped forward …
    She quickly shut the door on him before he could kiss her. If he did, he’d discover how unsick she really was. She pressed her ear to the hard wood until she heard his footsteps fade from the stoop, then she leaned back and sighed in relief. It had been a narrow escape. And one she would never repeat.
    Next time she would risk looking stupid and silly rather than go out on another “business” dinner with Miles.
    That decision made, she went off to bed.
    •     •     •
    Things didn’t go quite as he’d expected, Miles mused, but the evening had turned out to be extremely profitable.
    He tucked his arms under his pillow and stared at the ceiling.