Nerves tickled her stomach and shook her laugh. “Sorry, Wes, but I don’t know you well enough to show you that one.”
Yet, she added silently.
His gaze jerked up to hers. Heat flared in those blue depths even as he lifted his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, I know.” She gave him a playful tap on the shoulder and backed toward the bathroom with her pulse racing. “Lighten up, man.”
After closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment. Stupid rain. Then she remembered how wonderful Wes’s arms had felt around her on the bike, and she took it back. And what was she doing standing here freezing when she had his warm, dry clothes to change into? Peeling off her leather top, she considered tossing it in the garbage. One, her image was hopelessly ruined, and two, she never wanted to wear it again after the past hour of uncomfortable clamminess.
Then she realized the zippered leather halter top couldn’t go in the dryer and she’d have to put it back on later. Wet. She cringed and shivered at the unappealing thought while removing her black lace bra so she could slip into Wes’s shirt. The soft cotton against her chilled skin urged her to get the rest of the wet stuff off and pull his sweat pants on. A look in the mirror made her groan, but it wasn’t like she had any other choice—and they were so nice and warm.
Resigned, she laid her leather top across the edge of the bathtub, gathered her wet clothes, and stepped back into the hotel room. “It’s all yours—”
Wes turned, pulling a dry tee shirt down over his muscular stomach as he faced her. His gaze swept over her from top to bottom, making her feel even more self-conscious. Then he grinned while scooping up his wet things from the floor.
“They look a little big.”
“Just a little,” she said dryly.
“Let me run these to the dryer down the hall.” He held out a hand for her things. “And then, what do you say to a pizza? My treat.”
The mention of food made her mouth water and took her mind off handing Wes her bra and underwear rolled inside her jeans. “Nino’s is the best in town and they deliver.”
“You want to call? Anything but anchovies, please.” He started to close the door, but stuck his head back in. “And no pineapple.”
“Sausage, mushroom and black olives?” No onions, just in case.
“Add pepperoni to half and we’re good.”
Tara called in the order, then stared at the phone a few seconds before picking it up to dial again. She prayed for the answering machine. Or anyone but—
“Hello?” her dad answered.
Her heart lodged in her throat, then abruptly dropped into her stomach when she heard the hotel room door open behind her. She looked over at Wes as she said, “It’s me, Dad, I just wanted to let you know—”
“Where the hell are you? Charlie said—”
Tara pulled the receiver away from her ringing ear. Wes’s brows rose, telling her he’d heard, too. She sat with her hand in her lap, waiting until silence fell on the other end. Wes frowned and started toward her, but she shook her head and lifted the phone.
“Dad? Are you willing to lis—”
“Are you with him?” her dad thundered.
“Yes, but—”
“Where are you?”
Wes’s hotel room. That’d go over real well.
“Tara Russell, I want you home in…”
Tara lowered the phone again and waited. Wes’s brows rose, but she just shook her head again.
“Tara? Honey, are you still there?” Her mother’s faint voice reached her ears and she sighed with relief while raising the phone.
“I’m here, Mom.”
“Everything okay?”