Page 12 of Flirting With Disaster

He flinched.

“I can’t keep calling you Beast and Count. It’s rather presumptuous.”

He glanced over his shoulder, those golden eyes piercing her. “You’d be smart to keep considering me a monster. I’m not a good bet for whatever you’re up to.”

Her lips twisted. Did he know what she had planned? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stood, his eyes traversing her body as she sat on the bed, filling with interest as his gaze stilled on her bosom. She glanced down, expecting to find her clothes had surreptitiously fallen off.

His eyes returned to hers. “I get the feeling you are up to no good. And, for some reason, I keep ending up in the position to set you straight.”

“You had no reason to ‘set me straight’ today. I had complete control of the situation.”

The Beast’s brows lowered. “Like last night when you propositioned me?”

Her heart clenched and her spine tightened. Did she? Oh God, she didn’t remember. “I-I assumed that was what you were interested in when you approached me.”

He shook his head and his beautiful lips lifted at the corners. “I don’t make a habit of taking advantage of drunk, distressed women.”

“I’m not distressed,” she lied. “I may have been a tad bit intoxicated, but I’m hardly distressed.”

The Beast laughed. It was a stunning sight. She couldn’t help but search out those canines just to be sure. Things in this castle all seemed so…strange.

“Honey, you make a nun during Catholic school detention look like she’s channeling Richard Simmons.”

She shot him a sneer, then stared down at her hands. Her ankl

e throbbed, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept over her lips. Her Beast had studied her well.

He sat next to her on the bed, the heat from his body warming her.

“Beckette. My name is Beckette.” He lifted her ankle onto his lap, removed her shoe, and ran his hand over the minor swelling that had started. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m a bastard and tend to hurt people when they get close. It’s my curse. That’s why I don’t do emotional attachments.” He smirked. “As if I were even capable.”

Like finding two almonds in a bite-size Almond Joy, her future flashed brightly in her mind. Yes, he’d be the one.

Her heart beat wildly as she reviewed the ramifications of what she wanted to do…seduce him. Seduce Beckette, The Beast, the man of mystery and beauty. She wanted this emotionally stunted, beautiful man to be the one to take her virginity, father her child…without him knowing, of course. She didn’t need a man. Not that he’d want her. He was a perfect stranger, never to be thought of again.

She was ovulating. She’d always had her menses schedule plotted in her brain. Now all she had to do was get him to take her to bed.

It was ludicrous. It was unethical. But she was desperate.

Our little bundle of joy will be arriving in May!

She pulled her foot from The Count’s lap, then stood and slid off her other shoe. She paced the small room without a limp. Her nerves had numbed the pain. He watched her, humor lighting his secretive eyes. This man was dangerous, hardened, disreputable. Perfect for an unscrupulous mission.

But he was also smart. She needed to include that in her calculations.

“I’m fine, really.” She stood with her back to him and covertly unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Cleavage. Men liked cleavage. She turned and tried to swing her hair in the sultry way women did. Her head thudded against a gourd lantern hanging from a shelf.

Smooth.

He leaned back on his hands and smirked, his eyes zeroing in on her burgeoning breasts. She had a good bosom, she’d been told. It’d be advantageous to use her positive attributes to the best of her ability.

She noted his body language—visual interest, pulsating carotid in the neck, relaxed posture, erection.

All promising signs.

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