Bugger. He couldn't go back to her looking like this. He grabbed the glass of ice water and dumped half of it on himself. "Oy! Bloody hell."
"Are you all right?"
He spun and discovered Olivia standing in the kitchen doorway. He froze for a few seconds as he looked her over. She was clutching her wet clothes to her chest, effectively hiding the parts he really wanted to see. Still, he enjoyed seeing her bare arms and lovely long legs. His gaze wandered to her face, and he realized she was giving him a similar examination.
Her eyes widened at the sight of his groin.
Water dripped from his wet boxers, the droplets plopping onto his feet. Bugger. He must look like he'd just peed on himself. The blood he'd recently ingested rushed to his face, giving him a rare blush.
"'Tis naught but water, ye ken." He winced. His embarrassment was causing his accent to thicken. He lifted the glass so she could see it was half full. "I used some of yer ice water to...minimize a growing concern."
She made an odd strangled sound that sounded suspiciously like a stifled giggle. With pink cheeks, she focused on the counter behind him. "I thought I'd be safer in the house, since there's a jaguar out there."
"I see." So much for making love to her in the hot tub. "Did ye want this water? I can refill it for you."
"That's okay." She looked at the bottle in his other hand. "I'll just have whatever you're having."
"Nay! Ye-Ye wouldna like it." He quickly emptied the rest of the synthetic blood in the sink. "'Tis flat."
She watched him curiously. "It was wine, right?"
"Would ye like some wine? I can pour you a glass."
"That would be lovely, thank you."
He set the glass of water on the counter and retrieved a wineglass from an overhead cabinet. Then he located a bottle of merlot in the fridge that Carlos had opened earlier when he'd eaten the leftovers that Olivia and her grandmother had left. He filled the glass, then handed it to her.
"Thank you." She shifted her clothes to one arm so she could take the wineglass. Her wet jeans slipped from her grasp and tumbled onto her feet. "Oops."
"I'll get it." He leaned over to grab her jeans, then noticed how close he was to her bare legs. He straightened very slowly, enjoying the view. By the time his eyes reached her face, her cheeks were pink again.
She cleared her throat. "I need to get out of my wet clothes."
"That would be nice. Ye want to do it now?"
"I need a towel to dry off."
"Of course." He grabbed a clean kitchen towel and handed it to her.
She gave him a dubious look. "That won't cover up much."
"Works for me." He tossed it back onto the counter. "I'll bring you a bath towel."
"Could you find something for me to wear?"
"Aye." Maybe a handkerchief.
"Is there a dryer in the house? I need to rinse out my clothes and dry them."
"Aye, right through there." He motioned to a door by the refrigerator.
"Great. Thank you." She headed to the utility room.
He waited for her to pass so he could see her from behind. Her wet panties clung to her rump, wedged into the crease and molded to each rounded cheek. Lord Almighty, he wanted to touch her. Kiss her. Make her shudder and scream.
She cleared her throat.
He glanced up. "Yes?"
She'd paused just inside the utility room to glare at him. "I need those jeans."
"Of course." He strode to the doorway and tossed her wet jeans into the sink next to the washing machine. "I'll be back with some clothes and a towel."
"Thank you." She shut the door after he left.
He dashed to his bedroom to change clothes. He glanced at his bed and smiled. The night was still young, and like Carlos said, a good Vamp could last all night long.
CHAPTER 8
Olivia was relieved to find a stack of clean beach towels on the dryer. She rinsed her sweater in the sink, then laid it on the counter on top of a beach towel. After rinsing the rest of her clothes, she tossed them in the dryer. She glanced at the closed door. Hopefully, Robby would knock first. She quickly stripped off her wet underwear, rinsed it out, and threw it in the dryer.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Just a minute." She grabbed a beach towel and wrapped it around herself. "Okay."
The door cracked open, and Robby peered inside. "Och, ye found a towel."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
He grinned. "Lass, ye could never disappoint." He set a bath towel and some clothes on the counter next to her sweater. He was still barefoot and bare-chested, but he'd traded in the wet boxer shorts for a pair of white martial-arts pants. "Come out when ye're ready." He closed the door.
Ready for what? She grabbed the wineglass off the counter and gulped down a swallow. Relax. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. But that was the problem. Where Robby was concerned, she found herself wanting the whole shebang. And she'd only known him a few days.
She turned on the dryer, then examined the clothes he'd given her. They were definitely for a woman, so she assumed they must belong to the wife of whoever owned the villa. They were summer pajamas: a blue tank top and a pair of cotton shorts that were blue with white fluffy clouds.
The shorts fit, although they seemed a bit baggy around the legs. The top was a snug fit that left little to the imagination. With a grimace, she wrapped the bath towel around her shoulders like a shawl. As soon as her clothes were dry, she'd put them on and hurry back home. Or could she? She didn't dare walk home with a jaguar out there. Maybe Robby had a car. Or maybe she'd have to spend the night with him.
She snorted. Her grandmother would never believe the jaguar excuse.
She took another sip of wine for fortification, then left the utility room. The lights in the kitchen had been turned off, but enough light filtered in from the family room that she was able to find her way. She reached the arched entrance to the family room and stopped.
A fire blazed in the hearth. Spare pillows and an afghan from the couch had been spread on the rug in front of the fireplace. She swallowed hard. Robby's intentions were clear. He meant to seduce her.
He blew out a match he'd just used to light a candle on the coffee table. "Would ye like more wine?"
"I'm okay." I'm in deep trouble. She perched on one end of the couch and set her wineglass on the coffee table.
"Are ye warm enough? The only clothes I could find were summer ones that Shanna left behind."
"Who's Shanna?"
"Shanna Draganesti. She owns this house, along with her husband. Several houses, actually." He sat in the middle of the couch and shifted sideways to face her.
She noted how muscular he looked, and how the hair on his chest was more brown than red. He'd tied his damp auburn hair back into a ponytail. "Where is your home?"
"Scotland, a few miles south of Inverness. I have about twenty acres next to my grandfather's land. I have my own house, but he always expects me to stay in his castle."
She blinked. "A real castle?"
"Aye. 'Tis a wee bit drafty for my taste. My house is cozier, but I'm rarely there. I'm usually on assignment."
"What kind of assignments?"
He rested an elbow on the back of the couch. "Security and investigation."
She nodded. Even though her lie detector skills didn't work with Robby, she believed he was being honest. The physical signs were correct. He was facing her, keeping eye contact with her and looking comfortable. What's more, she had a strong feeling that he wanted her to trust him. He'd claimed from the beginning that he was trustworthy. He'd endured torture without betraying his colleagues. So why shouldn't she trust him? He'd confronted a huge jaguar in order to save her.
"You were working for your grandfather's company last summer when you were captured?" she asked. "What kind of assignment was that?"
He rubbed his jaw. "Sometimes MacKay S and I gets involved with some sensitive security issues."
She sat back. "You mean national security? That's how you know people in the CIA?"
He nodded. "We were trying to locate a group of domestic terrorists."
"Where? How come I never heard about this?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "'Tis a secret."
She took a deep breath. "And these terrorists are the ones who tortured you."