Page 22 of About that Fling
“Right. Ugh, I’m going to be sticky.”
“Could you stop touching yourself like that? You’re turning me on.”
Jenna looked up, her cheeks flushed, her dark hair pulled back in some sort of complicated twist that Adam ached to unravel with his fingers. Instead, he plucked the sodden napkin out of her hand.
“Seriously, stop rubbing it,” he said, handing her the saltshaker. “You’ll set the stain. Just cover it in this and wait ’til it dries.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” She pulled the fabric away from her body, then let it fall back against the curve of her breasts. All the blood remaining in Adam’s brain vacated the premises.
“It’s not exactly a flat surface,” she pointed out.
“I noticed,” he said. “I’m grateful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, what do I do? Should I just shake some on the stain or what?”
“Here, let me help.”
He reached for the saltshaker again, fingers grazing hers as he took it. He plucked the fabric away from her chest, trying to be as clinical as possible about the whole operation, but how the hell was he supposed to do that with his finger dipping into the warm hollow between her breasts? He’d managed to stay professional all week at Belmont, not letting his libido surge at the sight of Jenna or his anger surge at the sight of his ex-wife. But now?—
“What on earth are you doing up here, anyway?” she asked.
“Working.”
“On a Saturday? On a hotel roof?”
“Hotel rooftops are only for midweek work?” He plucked at the damp fabric again, admiring its determination to cling to her breasts. “I think better with a little fresh air, so I followed the signs from my room to the roof.”
“When did you change hotels?”
“Two days ago. Hold still, will you?”
He tipped a little salt onto the liquid, rubbing it in with his knuckle. A little more, his finger grazing her breast again. Christ, it was hot up here.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to take off the dress?”
“Nice try. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll just go back downstairs and do it. Hopefully there’s something in the hotel lost and found I could change into.” She nodded and stepped away from him. “Thank you for the salt.”
She turned and started to walk toward the stairwell, but Adam called out to her. “There’s one problem with that.”
She pivoted back to look at him. “What’s that?”
“You just trapped us up here.”
She stopped, hand outstretched toward the doorknob, bare feet lovely on the dirty roof. “What?”
“See that piece of paper?” He nodded toward the sports section pinned against the ledge, one corner fluttering in the breeze. “I’d shoved it into the latch so it wouldn’t lock while I was up here. It fell out when you came through the door.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “How is that possible?”
“See for yourself.”
He waited to see if she’d take his word for it, not surprised when she didn’t. She gave the door a hard yank, her body jerking as the latch failed to give.
She turned back to face him, expression accusatory. “Why would a hotel have a door that locks people on the roof without some sort of warning?”
“Security. Besides, there was plenty of warning. Didn’t you see the signs?”
“Signs?”
