Baby, It's Cold Outside

Baby, It's Cold Outside-Chapter 3

Grant watched Jenna shiver, despite the heat of the blaze that scorched his back. He didn't know why she wasn't warming up more quickly. Between the fire and the smoking hot woman in front of him, he might have to venture out into the blizzard himself to cool down. His stupid, clueless body didn't care how lame her story was.

"How long have you known my sister?" His family was a subject that could kill his libido if anything could.

"Several years. I met her when I first moved to Florida. Recently, I took one of the classes she teaches at the community center."

He nodded neutrally. He didn't care about the damn classes.

"You shouldn't blame Kate for anything I do," Jenna added. "She doesn't think I should be let out after dark without a keeper."

He eyed her bedraggled state. "She might have a point—"

"Hey! I did not pop out of a cake! I am not your singing birthday telegram! So you can just stop eyeing me like I'm your playmate du jour." She bolted upright and her feet hit the floor.

"Calm down." He moved after her as she stood, and caught her arm. He was a little appalled at the sense of dismay that had whipped through him when she started to leave. "You can't go. There's a terrible storm out there."

"I came in from that storm, and I can go right back out in it. I'm every bit as tough as I look."

He couldn't help laughing. "You don't look tough at all." Long, golden brown hair, curling a bit now that it was drying. Big brown eyes that managed to look both uncertain and inviting at the same time. And lips as full as Cupid's arched bow. Just waiting to strike and slay a man.

She wrenched her arm from his hand. "And don't patronize me."

He held up a hand and pantomimed wiping the smile off his face. "Okay then. You are tougher than that ten line algorithm I've been working on over there." He jerked his head towards his computer. "Lord knows it doesn't talk back like you do."

She stifled a giggle.

But he didn't feel like laughing any more. Her arm had still been cold and, when he considered the state of her clothes, he couldn't be surprised.

"There won't be any cabs out there, anyway," he reminded her.

"I got a cab to come here." She edged away from him.

He grasped her arm again, surprised at his own determination to keep her. "That cab driver was real anxious to hit the road and get home. He said the only good thing about this weather was that the streets are deserted."

"There's the subway."

"They have problems in bad weather, too. Besides, the way you're dressed you can't go anywhere." His eyes strayed to her tits for the hundredth time since she'd appeared. Though he tried not to be obvious, a woman couldn't dress like she did and not expect a man to look.

"You could lend me a sweatshirt."

He eyed her sexy sandals. Aside from their complete inability to protect her from the snow, he damn well knew what the message was. As would any other man who saw her in them. "I can't help you with your footwear. And a sweatshirt with your bare legs sticking out—" He shook his head. "Not safe for public viewing."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you kidding? You must know you have fabulous legs."

"A leg man, are you?"

"Nope. More of a boobs and butts guy myself. Since you asked." He couldn't help grinning at her flustered face. "But I like anything and everything on the right woman."