“No, you’re just asking me to pretend they don’t exist and launch myself into some whirlwind sexual affair with you. How will that even work, Seth? You’re going to sneak into my apartment after I tuck Sophie and Jason in and ravish me while they’re sleeping next door? You’ll pay for a babysitter while you and I go to some sleazy motel?” She shook her head. “For the millionth time, I’m not interested.”
He rewarded her speech with his trademark smirk. “Has anyone ever told you that you look sexy when you lie?”
“What does that even mean?” she mumbled. “Whatever. Don’t answer. In fact, don’t say another word.”
She brushed past him and yanked on the door handle. Out in the hall, the drum and bass bounced off the walls and vibrated beneath her feet. Perching her hands on her hips, she turned to scowl at Seth.
“I’m serious. Quit coming here every night. Quit hitting on me. Quit acting like being my former boss’s son gives you some kind of say in my life.”
As usual, he seemed unfazed by the rejection. Stepping closer, he brought those tempting lips to her ear again, his hot breath fanning over her skin. “See you Monday night, Miranda.”
“Seth—”
Holy crap, had he just licked the shell of her ear? He had. And now his lips were closing over her earlobe.
A jolt of pure desire hit her hard and fast. Before she could lay into him for his sheer presumption, he was moving away.
“You’ve got my cell number,” he reminded her. “Call me when you’re ready.”
When. Not if.
Presumptuous jerk.
As her heart pounded up a storm in her chest, she watched Seth stride off, angry with herself for noticing how incredible his ass looked in those black jeans. Angry at him for walking away without once looking back, while she was standing there like a slack-jawed moron, unable to take her eyes off him.
“Who was that?” The breathy female voice came from the long line in front of the ladies’ room.
Sighing, Miranda met the eyes of a young blonde in a gold micromini and black halter top. “That was our resident troublemaker.”
The blonde grinned. “My kind of trouble. I’d trade my firstborn for even ten minutes with that hottie.”
A few of the other women in line overheard the remark and laughed, but Miranda only managed a weak smile. Being around Seth Masterson was utterly exhausting. She was forever on guard, waiting for his next seductive ambush, steeling herself against the sexual magnetism he possessed in spades.
You have a problem, Miranda Rose Breslin.
God, she totally did, didn’t she? Why was she always attracted to bad boys? Those kinds of men were all well and good in the movies, but in real life, you had a better chance of teaching a dog to send an email than taming a bad boy.
She needed to do something about this silly schoolgirl attraction, pronto. Maybe she ought to lock herself in her bedroom tonight and put her vibrator to good use. A few orgasms and she’d be thinking, Seth who?
Seth Masterson, that’s who, and you’re an idiot if you think your battery-operated boyfriend will make you forget it.
Oh for the love of…was that Seth’s voice in her head?
Wonderful. The man was already shadowing her at work. Haunting her dreams. Starring in her fantasies. And now he was narrating her damn thoughts.
How on earth was she supposed to crush this attraction to dust when even her own subconscious was against her?
With another sigh, Miranda headed back to the main floor of the club. And prayed that the deafening dance beat would pound all thoughts of Seth right out of her head.
Chapter Two
Seth had never felt more on edge as he stalked into the dark townhouse he shared with Dylan Wade. Seeing Miranda on a nightly basis was absolute torture, and tonight had been particularly brutal. Probably because it was the closest he’d ever come to battering through her defenses. He’d seen her pulse jumping in her throat when he’d told her he wanted her. Heard her intake of breath. Witnessed the haze of arousal in her eyes.
She could deny it all she wanted, but Seth knew when a woman was hot for him. And this one was. Big-time.
Which was a damn good thing, because he was hot for her too. He’d wanted Miranda Breslin from the second he’d laid eyes on her. They may have officially met four months ago when he’d helped her move into her new apartment, but he’d already been lusting over the woman for more than a year by then.
First time he’d seen her was backstage at the Paradis, which he pretty much considered his second home. Miranda had been sitting at a vanity table while a makeup artist hovered over her. She’d worn an elaborate costume studded with blue jewels and adorned with peacock feathers. The leotard-like outfit had offered a lot of cleavage and emphasized her long, shapely legs, made even longer and shapelier thanks to her sheer silver stockings and high-heeled dance shoes. She’d yet to put on her feathered headdress, so her long sable-brown hair had been slicked back in a tight bun, drawing his attention to her high cheekbones and intriguing features.