A Sure Thing?

The shower cut off, and he turned, quickly crossing to his overnight bag where he pawed through his clothes, then pulled out a pair of dark blue sweatpants. He'd just slipped them on when the bathroom door opened, engulfing him in a cloud of fragrant steam. A tousle-haired, damp, towel-clad Jilly Taylor materialized from that lusciously scented vapor, a curvaceous goddess emerging through the mist like Venus gliding to the shore in a Botticelli painting.

She caught sight of him and stopped dead in her tracks, clutching the sarong-wrapped towel tighter against her breasts. Every thought except Whoaaaaa, baby fled from his head.

It certainly wasn't the best moment for him to forget how to speak English, but unfortunately God had given him a brain and a penis, and only enough blood for one of them to function at a time. And at this particular moment, his brain was not in charge. And when-make that if-his brain was ever in charge again, he was going to try to recall when he'd last been so powerfully attracted to a woman.

'I didn't know you were up,' she said.

You don't know the half of it. Reaching down, he snatched up his sweatshirt from his overnight bag which yawned open at his feet. He rose and, feeling like an idiot, held the worn, gray material in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. 'I left a wake-up call. I'm meeting Jack for breakfast at nine.'

Something flashed in her eyes, sending up a warning flag. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, 'What time are you meeting with him today?'

She hesitated, then said, 'I'm having breakfast with him as well. At seven-thirty.'

Matt's fingers tightened around his sweatshirt. The fact that she was meeting with Jack first didn't bode well. Damn it, she'd have her foot in the door first, a definite advantage. But the real question was, how far would Jilly go to win ARC'S account? She was ambitious-was she unethical as well? On a clean playing field, he could compete with anyone. But would she play fair? Or would she turn out to be another Tricia and use her feminine wiles to win Jack's favor? After their breakup, he'd learned Tricia had slept with a potential client to get his business. Would Jilly do the same? If so, that was definitely something he couldn't compete with, and gave her an advantage that set his teeth on edge.

'Look, Matt, I've been thinking a lot about this,' she said, regaining his attention. 'I'm not any happier about our situation than you are. I think Adam placed us both in a very awkward situation, made even worse by the fact that we're going to end up sharing this room. I called the front desk when I woke up, and there's nothing they can do. And I don't see either one of us checking out and finding a room elsewhere… right?'

'I'm not moving out.'

'Right. And neither am I.' She pushed her damp hair back, tucking the dark strands behind her ear, and he absolutely did not notice how smooth and silky and touchable her damp flesh appeared. 'That being the case, I think we should lay some ground rules-just a few guidelines to keep the level of awkwardness down to a minimum.'

'What did you have in mind?'

'Well, first, I think we should agree to remain, um, clothed at all times.'

Her gaze skimmed over his bare chest, and he wasn't sure if he was more relieved or alarmed by the quick flash of unmistakable desire he saw flicker in her eyes. Relieved, because, thank God he wasn't the only one feeling this unwanted attraction. By damn, misery loved company. But alarmed, because, holy hell, if she was feeling the same powerful desire he was, how could they possibly hope to fight it?

He nodded slowly, forcing his gaze to remain on hers and not wander over her luscious form. 'Fine. Clothes on at all times. Although, I have to warn you, that's going to make showering a challenge.'

Her lips twitched, drawing his attention to their ripe fullness. How was it possible that he'd worked with her all these months yet neglected to notice how beautiful her mouth was? He made a mental note to schedule an appointment to have his eyes checked. Or maybe he had noticed, but since he hadn't been thinking about Jilly in terms of kissing her, the lusciousness of her mouth just hadn't registered.

Well, it was registering now. Big time. Those full, pouty, unpainted lips silently beckoned him to step forward and taste them. It was all he could do to keep his bare feet planted in place and not give in to the temptation.

'Clothes on at all times-except to shower,' she amended.

He nodded his agreement. 'What else?'

'Well, in the interest of fair play, I think we should agree to stay out of each other's way as far as Jack Witherspoon is concerned.' Her golden-brown gaze was direct and steady. 'I want this account. I intend to play hard, and I always play to win. I fully expect the same from you. But it's not my style to play dirty. I'd like the same consideration from you.'

He studied her for several seconds, trying to figure out what her angle was. Sure, she seemed honest, sounded trustworthy, looked sexy-er, sincere, but he wasn't about to be taken in again by an ambitious competitor. 'You mean don't encroach on each other's time with Jack?' he asked.

'Exactly. Or try to sabotage each other's work.'

He raised a brow, irked and insulted by the suggestion. 'You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?'

'I'm suspicious by nature.'

'As am I.'

'Which is why I think it's important that we lay these ground rules. I have every intention of fighting, but you have my word that I'll fight fair-provided you promise you'll do the same.'

'Contrary to what you obviously believe, I don't cheat,' he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. 'I don't need to.'

'Good. Neither do I.' She held out her hand. 'Deal?'

Although he remained suspicious of her motives, he nodded. He'd play as fair as she did. So long as she kept up her end of the bargain, so would he. But if she played the seduction card with Jack, all-out war would rage, and then she'd be sorry. All's fair in love and war, Jilly. Not that love had anything to do with this. No. Just war. And he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

He clasped her hand. Her handshake was firm and professional, and the brief contact certainly shouldn't have whooshed heat up his arm. He had to fight back the urge to yank her into his embrace and start off the morning by breaking the rule of keeping clothes on at all times. Her skin felt so warm and soft against his fingers, and she was only wearing that skimpy towel…

He gave himself a firm mental shake. He needed to remember who and what she was-an ambitious coworker. A rival who wanted nothing more than to pull the ARC account out from underneath him. Of course, that would be much easier to recall once she put on some damn clothes. As soon as she was once again dressed in one of her conservative, don't-mess-with-me suits, and had her hair all pulled back in that severe bun, all would realign in his universe. Then he'd be able to shake her hand and not feel a thing.

His gaze slid over her, and he stifled a groan. Man, even when she was again fully clothed, it was going to be really, really difficult to erase from his mind the sensual image of Jilly Taylor fresh from the shower. But he could do it. He'd accomplished tougher quests, completed more difficult missions. He was up to the task.

She stepped back and gave him a slightly shaky smile. 'I'll just get my makeup bag, then the bathroom's all yours.'

'Uh, thanks.'

She emerged from the bathroom seconds later, a tan leather pouch clutched to her midsection. He watched her walk past him, his gaze attached to her backside as if velcroed there, his imagination conjuring up the very fine sight he knew lurked beneath that towel. His erection stirred against his sweats and, with a frown, he stomped into the bathroom and closed the door with a decisive click.

He tossed his sweatshirt onto the white marble counter and looked down at his tented sweatpants and grimaced. Damn. Had he just thought he was up to the task?

Well, it certainly appeared that he was. Damn, damn, double damn.

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