Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a large towel around his waist and padded back into his bedroom in search of something to put on. The sight of Emmaline standing inside his doorway stopped him in his tracks. She wore a skimpy pair of cutoffs and a blue halter that matched the color of her eyes perfectly. Her glorious hair tumbled freely down her back.

J.C. gripped the towel tighter and willed his eyes to focus on her face and away from the sight of her delectable body. It didn’t help. The look in her eyes as she gazed at his partially nude body only fanned J.C.’s fire. He’d never had a woman look at him with such stark desire. Emmaline was looking at him as though he were a priceless work of art.

The thought that this sexy woman could want him with such hunger made him feel ten feet tall. Unconsciously he stood straighter, loving the way her eyes followed the movement of his body.

“Is there something you wanted?”

His voice was silky smooth, as soft as melted butter, and Emmaline didn’t miss the double sided question or the way he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting down her scantily clad form. She could say she’d come for the dirty towels, which was true. She hadn’t heard J.C. come in and she thought she was alone in the house. She hadn’t expected to see him, in all his hard bodied perfection, standing before her half naked like some Greek god either. But hey, sometimes life handed you a gift. In this particular instance, J.C.’s softly voiced question deserved a whole lot better answer than dirty towels.

Feeling bolder than she’d ever felt in her entire life, Emmaline walked forward until she stood only scant inches from the chiseled perfection of J.C.’s chest. Tiny drops of water glistened in the mat of dark hair that arrowed down his flat stomach and disappeared behind the towel that covered him from her heated gaze. Lifting her hand, she idly traced one drop as it ran down his stomach, following the bead of moisture to the edge of the towel.

The gasp of air that issued through J.C.’s clenched teeth only emboldened her. His eyes had turned a stormy green and the flush of desire reddened his high cheekbones.  Smiling into his eyes as though experiences like this were commonplace, Emmaline slid her hand beneath the edge of the towel. His breath hitched.

“I want.” She leaned into him, letting her forearm rest against the hard plane of his stomach. “This dirty towel for the laundry.” She gave a light tug and suddenly the towel was in her hand. Automatically her eyes skimmed downward.