It's "Look, but don't touch." Until the object of Hailey's fantasies catches her looking and demands she touch him. Everywhere.
Hailey Jennison is smart, funny and, unfortunately, stacked like a blonde brick house. She's well aware the impact her looks have on the male gender, and she hates it. Socially awkward, she keeps to a safe, boring routine, meeting friends once a week for dinner, some laughs, and entertainment.
Entertainment comes in the form of a little harmless voyeurism, watching the living, breathing sex god across the quad parade around his apartment half-naked. Hailey watches and yearns, indulging in this weekly fantasy that almost--but not quite--satisfies her every desire.
When Gage catches Hailey in the act of ogling him, he gives her a choice--go out with him, or he'll call the cops. But he has no intention of calling the law down on every man's wet dream. For he's been watching her, as well. And he has plans to fulfill her naughty fantasies.
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February 09, 2007
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Excerpt from Enjoying the Show by Marie Harte
"I'm sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else."
He narrowed a gorgeous, steel-gray gaze that made her womb clench and frowned. "Honey, I don't think you understand. Apartment 306? Faith Sumner ring a bell?" Crap, he did know about Faith and where she lived. "Now we can discuss this here, with an audience." He nodded to several people laughing as they crossed the parking lot. "Or we can go somewhere private and discuss the matter...without getting the police involved. Frankly, I'm tired of being stared at."
Crossing his arms, Gage looked completely menacing, and mouthwateringly real. Without the distance separating his apartment from the Friday night shows, Hailey's normally nonexistent sexuality kicked into overdrive. Good lord, but this man was even making her mouth water.
She eyed his irritation, figured what she knew about him after several months of observation, and knew she'd never get another chance to be this close to the object of her fascination.
Nodding, she let him drag her the distance to his apartment, not wanting to appear eager. But as they drew closer to his place, she wondered at her sanity. He'd seen her watching, knew all about Faith and her friends. Why the hell was she going to entertain his questions? Then again, considering the alternative he gave her was to talk to the police, she had no choice but to take him up on his offer to discuss matters privately. With any luck, Sydney would spot them walking the distance to his wing, or better yet, see Hailey in his apartment and race to the rescue.
Unfortunately, Hailey's worries paled next to her sudden, combustible libido. God, being so close to him was like walking in a wet dream. His rock hard body enticed, demanding adulation. And not wanting to look directly into his burning gray eyes, she was more than happy to focus on his broad shoulders and sculpted delts, his corded forearms, and especially on the taut ass encased in those jeans.
She followed him up the stairs, her gaze helplessly drawn to his powerful thighs. With some difficulty, she swallowed around a dry mouth. She still couldn't believe she was accompanying her fantasy man back to his apartment. Sydney would be expecting her back with the booze, and instead Hailey walked behind Mr. Tool, caught in a firm grip promising retribution.
At his door he paused, his eyes darkening with menace. Instead of appearing scary, he only looked sexier. "Wait right here. You move one step, I'm calling the cops on you and your peeping friends."
Frozen, she nodded and waited. As if she had a choice in the matter. She could just see her name plastered over the local news. Dull and prudish Hailey Jennison caught peeping at hard-working, blue-collar stiff. At the word "stiff" she inwardly groaned. She did not need to be focused on sex around an angry, half-dressed Adonis who didn't seem to have a woman on the horizon.
He jerked his door open and pulled her inside, locking the door behind her. From what she could see through dimmed lights, he had a nice, masculine place. Up close, his apartment had more charm than she'd seen through his windows. White-washed walls framed a spacious apartment with brown leather furniture. He had oak hardwood floors, dark cabinetry that looked extremely expensive and definitely hand-crafted. His small kitchen was bright and cheery, with an apple-green tile backsplash against white cabinets. No dishes cluttered the sink, and the rest of his place looked tidy, as if he'd recently cleaned.
For a split second she wondered if he had a girlfriend they'd never seen, or worse, if he might in fact be gay. But Faith had seen him watching porn, she remembered, and unconsciously glanced toward his windows. She blinked, noting them completely covered.
"No need to give your friends more of a show than we have to," he said in a gritty voice.
She whipped her head to him, studying him warily. What the hell had she been thinking? She stood alone in an apartment with a virtual stranger, one who seemed in a pretty fierce mad as he glared at her. He towered over her, his muscles clearly outlined in the soft lighting of the room. She took a cautious step back, aware he'd locked his door, and swallowed loudly.