Page 61 of Hot & Heavy

The reason Maddie hadn't come to eat was because she was asleep. In his bed. And she was NAKED.

Ian's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

She was covered with a sheet from her groin to the top of her breasts, but that didn't matter. He saw more than enough. Her damp pale blond hair was spread on the pillow under her head. Her eyelashes were honey-colored and long, curling naturally against her flushed cheeks. Her legs ran on forever. Her waist was small, flaring out to the curve of her hips. The shape of her firm breasts was crystal clear.

Jessica Simpson had nothing on her.

How could I possibly not have seen this magnificent body on that hag back in the cave?

What the hell am I going to do?

He was only a man. He could not live in the same house with a woman who looked like this, a woman who claimed she could love him, a woman who came from nowhere and claimed his cat was a frickin'

omen, a woman who was still under suspicion of being a terrorist. He would have a nonstop hard-on in her presence from now on.

He decided to do the thing that most SEALs did when they were stressed out. Run. Changing into a pair of nylon shorts and running shoes, he went jogging on the beach. He ran five miles. It was totally dark when he came back to the sandy stretch behind his back deck. Bending over at the waist, he panted to get his heartbeat down. Then he looked up and realized that Maddie stood in the bedroom doorway, which led onto the deck. Backlit by a lamp, she wore one of his white T-shirts. And only that.

"Shit!" He groaned and decided to run another five miles.

You run, and run, and run, why?…

Madrene had a new concern to add to her long list of concerns. She had cast her lot with a barmy man.

There he was, running. Not just running, as in running from an enemy, or running to get something, but he appeared to be running for the sake of running. Up and down the sandy beach, for an hour or more.

He was a nicely built man, she would give him that. Very nicely built. But then, the men of Norseland were much the same, tall by birth and well muscled by necessity, being warriors always on the alert for a good fight. Still, she got that fluttery feeling in her stomach when she looked at his body as he ran.

He stopped once, down by the water. So riddled with exhaustion and probably pain was he that he was bent over at the waist. But what did he do? He looked up toward his house and began to run again.

Sam came out and rubbed herself against Madrene's bare leg. "Meow, meow, meow!" Madrene could swear the cat was saying, "What a lackwit!"

Yea, he must be demented.

Sweet temptation…

When he came in from his run, Maddie was on her hands and knees, butt in the air—very fine butt, by the way—licking his kitchen floor.

I swear to God, my life is going down the toilet. What next? "What the hell are you doing down there?"

Maddie hadn't realized that he'd come back. Her head shot up and she fell over, first on her side and then into a sitting position.

At least she's wearing fatigues and a T-shirt. I'm not sure I could resist her bare butt. I'd probably be down there licking, too… but not the floor.

Meanwhile, Sam, who had been licking beside her, let out a howl of outrage as Maddie apparently sat on her tail.

"Oh, it is you."

What? You'd think I was some intruder. I live here, for chrissake!

"You scared me. You scared the cat," she accused him.

Said cat, belatedly deciding to show a little fear, shot up into the air and landed on Ian's bare chest.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" he cried as he tried to pry Sam's claws from his flesh. He had about fifteen pounds of fur ball mauling him. "I'm going to have this cat declawed. First thing tomorrow."

Sam dug in deeper.

Maddie got up and came over to help take the cat off of him, cooing at the beast like it was the injured party. "Poor cat. Did you get scared by the big man? Everything is fine now."