him see her act like a nervous female! Not at her age!
He straightened, kicking off the dark leather shoes. The case containing the horn-rimmed glasses rested on the nightstand. His hazel eyes swept over her as she industriously began turning down her side of the bed.
"Thanks," he murmured, getting to his feet.
In spite of herself, Dara's gaze followed him as he disappeared into the bathroom. The broad shoulders and smoothly muscled back tapering into a narrow waist pulled at her awareness. She remembered how it had felt dancing with him earUer this evening and wondered at her own reaction. Never had she been so immediately attracted to a man.
Shaking her head, Dara slipped off her high-heeled shoes and panty hose and slid beneath the covers. Very carefully she arranged herself on the far side of the bed and lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling. Was there such a thing as love at first sight? she wondered. Probably not. But until tonight she wouldn't have expected to encounter attraction at first sight, either.
And attraction was a good place to start, she assured herself with a small smile, provided it was mutual.
"Don't tell me you're going to sleep in that dress!" Yale exclaimed, emerging from the bathroom and flicking off the overhead light as he walked toward the bed.
"As I didn't think to bring a nightgown, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Dara told him acidly and then winced as she heard the sound of a buckle and zipper being undone.
"Suit yourself ," he remarked carelessly. She listened anxiously as he slung the dark slacks over a chair. A moment later the bed sagged once again and the large male body moving in beside her raised the temperature under the cold covers by several degrees.
"The least you could do is wear your slacks," she said in brisk annoyance, lying rigidly on her side of the bed as he shifted and stretched beside her.
"In order to keep warm, you mean?" Yale asked politely and reached for her with shocking swiftness. "That's what my own personal stockbroker is for," he informed her, dragging her into the curve of his body.
"Yale! Stop that! What in the world do you think you're doing?"
Dara flung out a hand in protest and encountered the pelt of curling hair on his chest. She pulled her fingers away as if they'd been burned. "Stop teasing me like this!"
"Teasing!" he growled, his arm moving around her waist to anchor her against him. "You're the tease in this little party. You've been badgering me all evening, and I've finally decided to give you what you want."
"I'm not in the mood for any more of your truck-stop manners!" she snapped haughtily. "You've had your fun tonight. Behave yourself!"
The hand on her waist slid around to her stomach and moved upward to settle just under the full curve of her breast.
"So you don't like my truck-stop manners? That's unfortunate, isn't it? You didn't seem to like my more gentlemanly behavior, either. You're a hard woman to please, Dara Bancroft. But I'll try...."
Dara opened her lips to annihilate him verbally, but his mouth came down on hers before she could get the words out.
"Yale!" she managed in a muffled voice, and then the heated mastery of his kiss overwhelmed her senses. His mouth was like a narcotic, she realized dimly. A drugging, overridingly powerful thing that roused her emotions as nothing else had ever done. If she didn't stop him soon, she wouldn't be able to do so.
His fingers followed the under curve of her breast, seeking the nipple and finding it easily. She should have left on her bra, Dara thought wretchedly. Now his hand was shaping the softness of her as if the dress she wore was only a nightgown. The sensations he was causing began undermining her will power, urging compliance.
"Hank was right," Yale said huskily against her throat as he dragged his mouth away from hers. "You have got what a man needs in bed."
" Don't talk to me like that, Yale. We both know you've come a long way from the kind of world where