Page 52 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“Matt, I told you I—”

“You can have the bath all to yourself. You can even leave your clothes on if you insist.” He smiled. “Of course, it’s a lot more relaxing and you get a whole lot cleaner naked.”

She laughed then, her eyes taking on the richness of cut green velvet. His laugh joined hers as his mind formed a picture of Olivia squishing out of the bath, with bubbles dripping from her clothes. Then there was an awkward silence while he pictured her stepping out of that same tub completely naked with tiny droplets of water clinging to her. ...

“Matt? Are you okay?"

“Oh, um, yeah. Sure.” He cleared his throat and lifted the champagne to top off their glasses. “I was just thinking about some things I need to go over with Ben. I want to prep for my show before we sit down for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and take an hour’s snooze, Livvy? I’ll have your bath drawn and waiting for you at six-thirty so you can be nice and relaxed for your birthday dinner.”

She stood and rested one hand on the back of the barstool. “You’re going todrawmy bath?”

“But of course,ma chérie,” he replied in his best French accent, which degenerated into a campier version of Inspector Clouseau. “It wheel be my great pleasure.”

Continuing the imitation, he put his palm under Olivia’s to cup her hand so that he could drop a kiss on the outside of her wrist.

“Until six-thirty,ma petite. At which time I will be chomping at zee bit.”

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia knew deep shit when she soaked in it. It might be disguised as hot water frothing with perfume-scented bubbles, but it smelled like trouble all the same. Incredibly, she’d slept for more than the allotted hour and would probably be sleeping now if not for Matt.

He’d banged on her bedroom door until she finally forced herself out of bed to open it, and then with a finesse that spoke of too much experience, he’d led her to the bathroom and presented her with the promised bubble bath.

So here she sat, her hair piled on top of her head, soaking her naked self, nibbling on fresh strawberries and sipping a fresh glass of champagne. She’d never felt more pampered or more suspicious in her life.

Olivia swirled a hand through the water, idly watching the bubbles slide across her skin. They parted and reunited around her, while the warm water caressed her to the bone. She knew Matt was up to something, something undoubtedly fueled by her food donation and votes jump after this morning’s show, but it was hard to keep up one’s guard when one felt as wonderfully relaxed as she did right now.

The juice of an especially plump strawberry trickled down the corner of her mouth, and Olivia licked it off with her tongue, enjoying the sweet stickiness. She trailed the washcloth lightly over her body, down one leg and up her belly to pass across a hardening nipple as she imagined sharing the steamy tub with Matt.

Weightless, she floated in the warmth, her body tingling. Slowly, she drew the cloth over her breasts and felt an accompanying ache begin to build deep within her belly.

Closing her eyes, she sank deeper under the water, drew her knees up, and skimmed the washcloth slowly up between her thighs. The water-weighted cloth pressed against her, and she gave herself up to the sensation, imagining Matt in the tub with her....

A light rap sounded at the door.

“Livvy, how are you coming?"

Olivia dropped the washcloth and sat up in the tub. “I’m good.”

She imagined her audience’s reaction if she were to open the bathroom door, reach an arm out, and drag Matt inside so that she could have her way with him.

“Do you want some more champagne? I could top your glass off if you’d like.”

She wanted to yell, “Fill her up,” and knew she wouldn’t be referring to her glass. Lying here naked with Matt a mere doorknob-turn away was doing funny things to her insides. And her brain. This was not good.

“Um, no thanks. I’ll be out soon.”

With water cascading down her body, she stood and wrapped herself in a towel.

“I’m completely shriveled,” she hollered.

When he didn’t respond, Olivia released the drain lever with one toe and stepped out of the tub. Opening the bathroom door, she peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, and finding the hallway empty, she tiptoed the few steps to her room.

She dressed quickly but with care—repinning her hair into a smooth French twist and applying both eyeliner and mascara along with a swipe of blush high on both cheekbones. Then she painted her lips poppy pink and stepped into a fitted black halter dress.

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