Devilishly Wicked by Kathy Love Page B

what he was doing. One good, sweaty, orgasm-filled night with Peaches, and he’d be more than ready for world domination.
    After all, he was only so obsessed with this particular woman because he’d been denying himself. Once he had her, it would be like every other conquest in his long, long existence. He would get his fill of her and then quickly want to move on to his next acquisition.
    But he had to admit, he was relieved to see the current object of his desire bustling toward her desk, her arms weighed down with bags.
    “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said, her voice breathy and so sexy.
    He instantly imagined her in bed, under him, begging him in that same breathy voice. His cock hardened just as instantly. Of course, that was nothing new around his Peaches.
    “I—I had to go to a few places to find a dress that would . . .” She pursed her lips. “The right dress.”
    “And you got your hair done.”
     
    Georgia hesitated, fighting the urge to touch her hair self-consciously. Of course, the multiple bags she carried made that impossible anyway. Instead, she just tried to read Tristan’s expression. Had she gone too far? Truthfully, her newly dyed black locks striped with chunky, bright red highlights were rather tame for her. She had replaced her hot pink highlights with the red. To match her dress, of course.
    “I love the red,” he stated. Then to her surprise, he stepped forward to rub one of the flaming red locks between his thumb and forefinger.
    “Oh,” she said, feeling as if the air was being sucked from her lungs at his closeness. “Good.”
    She realized that was a lame response, but she couldn’t be expected to think straight with him so near. His body seemed to overwhelm her, and his gaze held hers. Vivid green locked with dark brown. His woodsy, spicy scent filled her nostrils, and she desperately wished her hair had nerve endings so she could feel his fingers stroking her.
    He touched her hair a moment longer, then seemed to realize what he was doing, and dropped the strand. He stepped back, and she pulled in a shuddering breath. Their eyes held for moment longer, but then the look in Tristan’s eyes, an almost dazed look, returned to his usual irreverent, sardonic expression.
    Of course, she had to have been imagining that bemused gaze. Why would he be staring at her that way? She had to be projecting her own overwhelmed feelings onto him. That was the only answer that made sense to her.
    “So do I get to see the dress?” His green gaze flicked to the bags she held.
    “Isn’t it bad luck to see the dress before the big event?” She instantly wanted to groan. Dear God, had she really just made a wedding reference to this man? Her cheeks burned and she knew they probably matched the streaks in her hair.
    Tristan grinned, and she had no doubt he noticed her embarrassment.
    “I think you are referring to a different kind of event. Plus, we couldn’t possibly have bad luck tonight. It’s not allowed.”
    Georgia appreciated his not making more of the stupid comment. Although he probably thought it was pretty presumptuous to imply a man like Tristan McIntyre would marry a woman like her. As always, visions of supermodels danced in her head. Okay, he probably thought it was downright delusional.
    But she wasn’t going to make any more of her foolish comment. Tristan hadn’t, so neither would she.
    But she still hesitated, not wanting to see the inevitable disappointment on his gorgeous face when he viewed her dress. Of course, he was going to see it eventually, so what the hell. She wrestled the bundle of bags onto her desk and pulled out the bright red halter, holding it by the shoulder straps in front of her.
    Tristan didn’t react for a moment, and some of her bravado wavered. She started to lower the dress, but his words stopped her.
    “You are going to be the sexiest woman in the room.”
    She gaped at him. Was he being sarcastic? He didn’t appear to be. If anything, that