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Authors: Shara Azod

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BOOK: Designing Berlin
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“What the hell are you doing?” he asked himself with disgust, covering her with the blanket.

Had it been that long that he was ready to jerk himself off while watching an unconscious woman he was supposed to be helping? He tried to remember the last time he’d had sex or any kind physical contact with a woman. Had it really been five years ago that he’d had moved into what used to be his summer retreat?

Damn, it had. Five years since he’d left Los Angeles, walking away from a red-hot career and a gorgeous fiancée. Matty just couldn’t take it anymore, all the plastic people smiling in his face. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the pressure. He thrived under pressure. It was the nasty undercurrent, the false friends, the soulless relationships he couldn’t stand. Had he been left alone to create and only deal with his clients, it would have been fine. But Matty had allowed himself to be sucked into the L.A. lifestyle, even going so far as to get engaged to a brainless starlet who cared about little else than money and being seen. It’d been killing him inside, his creativity giving way to empty construction without depth, without character. So he’d left.

Other than going into town for supplies, Matty hadn’t really had contact with much of anyone except his accountant in New York and his best friend Davis Grady, who was currently a town sheriff somewhere in South Carolina. Like Matty, Davis had gotten tired of the fast lane and moved back home. He had given up his life as a high-priced, high-powered attorney for the nice slow life of a lazy southern town. Matty knew Davis understood why he’d come home to West Virginia, even if that did mean any sexual gratification usually came from Rosy Palm and her five sisters.

But if the angels were with him, Rosy was about to get a break. Matty’s eyes swept over the delicious woman before him and he suppressed another urge to rub his aching member.

Taking a deep breath, Matty gathered his fallen clothes, as well as his visitor’s. He hung them in the kitchen, and then went to draw a warm bath. She hadn’t been exposed long enough to catch more than a cold as long as he got her temperature up soon. Hopefully, she would come around and tell him what the hell she was doing up here in the mountains.

Matty stared into the tub’s depths and knew it didn’t matter, really, why she’d come. He didn’t want her to leave. Maybe if he could collect his senses long enough not to pounce on her, she’d tell him how she’d come into his life and how, without whispering a word, she’d practically stolen his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Berlin sighed, shuddering against something wet. She had been so cold, colder than she could ever remember being before. Smiling, she stretched her body as the water lapped gently against her skin.

Water?

Her eyes snapped opened and she bolted upright, finding herself in luxuriating bubbles of warmth.

Wide-eyed, Berlin stared straight into the same clear blue eyes she had seen right before she had passed out. Only now she could see the entire face of her kidnapper. Dark, well-defined eyebrows and thick, equally dark lashes framed those eyes. There was a five o’clock shadow covering strong jaws, and his nicely chiseled face was saved from being too beautiful by a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow. A deep indent in his left cheek suggested a dimple. Thick, curly auburn hair flowed to his shoulders. Why would any guy who looked like that need to kidnap a helpless, stranded woman? Surely he could get plenty of women, even here in the middle of nowhere.

“There are people looking for me,” she warned in a clear, stern voice.

Every brain cell was screaming she should be terrified, yet she couldn’t even claim to be the slightest bit scared. Those blue eyes contained kindness, and that alone disarmed her terror. Each blink of his wonderful eyes chipped away at her fear, rendering it down to nothing. Sure, she had wanted to scream when he had first grabbed her, but that was more being startled than being frightened. It made absolutely no sense. How could she know he was kind? He’d kidnapped her, after all. What if this “nice guy” thing was a ploy to get her to trust him? Even still, when her eyes met his once more, those windows to the soul revealed a gentleness she didn’t think a kidnapper could convey. It puzzled her that she felt completely safe with this mountain man.

“I sure as hell hope so,” the mysterious man muttered, heaving to his feet.

Damn!
Berlin mentally gasped. He was truly a mountain of a man, standing at what had to be six-five, maybe even six-six, all hard, compacted muscle. He wore a pair of jeans that seemed to love his ass and legs, judging by the way it hugged them, and his plaid shirt was unbuttoned and hung open. His chest was well defined with rock-hard abs and not a sign of any hair. Although it was the height of winter, his skin held a light golden bronze hue. His nipples were deep copper and standing at attention. Berlin couldn’t help but lick her lips as she thought about teasing them with her tongue.

Whoa! No thinking about doing the kidnapper! Wait, what did he just say?

“Are you hoping to get a ransom or something?” she demanded incredulously.

The mountain man frowned and returned to the side of the…where the hell was she? She looked around and realized she was in a tub, a very big tub, with her head resting against an incredibly soft, fluffy towel. Well, he was a big man; of course he would have a big tub.
Hold up!
Did he undress her while she was passed out? Looking down, Berlin noticed she still had on her underwear; a quick mental inventory indicated she hadn’t been violated. That disappointed her a bit, but she smashed that traitorous thought down quickly. Yet that was another point that escaped logic. Why would he literally drag her off the road to his lair or wherever the heck she was; strip her down to her bra and panties; and put her in a tub?

The cold, dumb ass,
she mentally castigated herself.
So you wouldn’t catch pneumonia or frostbite.

This guy wasn’t some kind of mad mountain freak; he had saved her from killing herself trying to get to town. She was damned lucky he’d come along and found her when he did. He had even kept on her underwear to preserve her modesty, such as it was. The sheer white silk and lace was see-through now that it was wet. She could clearly see her dark nipples through the material, as well as outline of her pussy lips.

“I’m sorry,” Berlin muttered as the man came closer. “I thought…I thought…”

“You thought I kidnapped you?” the man asked and laughed, kneeling beside her. Those blue eyes twinkling with amusement angered her. Nothing about this was funny.

“Yeah, well, what was I supposed to think? You literally plucked me off the road and I wake up here, in a bathtub!”

Berlin couldn’t look at him. She gave up a silent prayer of thanks for her dark complexion. It camouflaged her burning cheeks beautifully. The flush didn’t come from being exposed like this. Nope, it came from the hungry thoughts racing through her. With him so close, all she could do was hope he didn’t touch her. If he did, she’d come undone.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man whispered in awe. “I do believe you’re blushing.”

The deep, smooth voice with such a slow, lazy drawl sent little chills down her spine despite the warm water.

“Berlin Jameson,” she introduced herself, extending her right hand. She bit her cheek to keep from scampering out of the tub and into his lap.

“Matthew Hartsfield,” the man, replied taking her hand in his much larger one.
Berlin immediately perked up, bolting upright in the tub again.
“Hartsfield? Any relation to Mattie Mae Hartsfield?”

Oh, please, please, please, let her be his mother
, Berlin silently pleaded. She wasn’t sure why, but it just might break her heart if the ultra-fine Matthew was married. It was wild; she generally didn’t find white men attractive, but there were exceptions. He was definitively a big exception. Even if she weren’t sitting in a tub full of water, she would be wet from his voice alone, never mind his drop-dead sexy looks.

“Mattie Mae Hartsfield? How did you hear that name?” Matthew demanded.

His heart stopped at her question. Mattie Mae had been his exclusive clothing line he sold from his boutique shop on Rodeo Drive. He’d named it after his grandmother who had raised him after his parents had been killed in a car accident when he was six. She had taught him to design and sew, always saying a man knew what looked good a woman far better than a woman could. Matty didn’t exactly agree, but he’d been damn good at what he did. After college, he’d been accepted into a premier design school in Paris. Soon after graduating from there, he’d headed to L.A.; and within three years, he’d become a clothier to the stars. Fame and fortune had come easily, too easily. He had fallen into a decadent lifestyle, forgetting who he was and where he came from until his grandmother’s death.

He had left Mattie Mae Clothiers behind and everything it stood for. There had been plenty of up and coming designers who would have gladly bought his by-appointment exclusive design boutique from him, but he’d wanted it to die. It wouldn’t be right to sell out to someone else, to have anyone but him designing clothes under his grandmother’s name. His fiancée hadn’t understood that. All she cared about was the fame and the fortune. Thank the fates above he had found that out before saying, “I do.”

If this woman had hunted him down in hopes he would design for over-privileged, self-absorbed stars again, she was bound to be disappointed. God, he didn’t want to disappoint her. Even the thought of her lovely face shadowed by unhappiness irritated him.

Looking down at her again, the hard-on he had finally lost came rushing back so quickly, it left him slightly dizzy. He would love to design for that body. Unlike the sickly stick figures in L.A., this woman Berlin had curves for days. Full, bountiful breasts; nice, thick thighs; a tapered waist made for the span of a man’s hands. Oh, the things he could dress her in, only to have the pleasure of undressing her once more.

“Pictures of your designs were sent to my office for consideration,” Berlin answered, shivering under the intensity of his stare.

She felt her nipples harden as his gaze caressed them. In any other circumstance she would have been pissed, but not with him, not now. His concentrated perusal made her feel sexy, completely feminine. He better not be hiding a wife somewhere. Berlin might have to take the woman out, even though she usually wasn’t down for the home-wrecking scene.

“What? I never sent any pictures to anyone. Who do you represent?” Matthew asked, bringing Berlin back to the present and her eyes up from his crotch.

“I am the head buyer for
Femme
,” Berlin answered, fidgeting now from his stare. “And unless you’re Mattie Mae Hartsfield, why would you know about it?”

Damn it!
He was married. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t often she got the hots for anyone these days, and the one man who rang her bell, without even touching her much less, was taken. There ought to be some kind of law against shit like this.

“Mattie Mae was my store in L.A. I closed it five years ago. Seeing as how the real Mattie Mae Hartsfield died around that time, I would say I would know all about who was sending around pictures of
my
designs,” Matthew informed her. “At least I should.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Berlin murmured, confusion riding those words as they left her mouth.

Someone had most certainly sent in pictures of this man’s designs. But who would do that? A wife. That would be the only person who would dare do such a thing. Probably tired of living in the middle of nowhere, especially if they used to live in the middle of the bright lights of Hollywood.

“My grandmother lived a full and happy life,” he informed her. “But thank you for the condolences.”

“Maybe your wife?” Berlin offered, holding her breath and hoping he didn’t have one. Really, she wanted to know if he were married far more than she wanted to know who had sent in the pictures.

“Oh, I’m not married.” Matthew smiled, no, more like
leered
at her.

His eyes dropped to her breasts once again, and damned if she didn’t stick out her chest just a little. It might have been a little…forward; but hey, she was single, as he had just confirmed he was too. Even if they did work out a deal about his line, it wasn’t as if she would be working with him. She bought the clothes and signed up the designers. The production, marketing, et cetera, would be done in their respective departments. She’d be in the wind long before those clothes hit the stores, and he would be good stock for her fantasies.

“I have no idea who sent the photos, but I would like to talk to you…”

“No.”

It was said with such firm conviction. Berlin blinked, unbelieving what she had heard. He surged to his feet once more, turning his back on her. She could see the tension gathering in his shoulders. Odd how she should notice that. She had never been particularly astute with any of her past boyfriends—all three of them.

Going over to a large oak cabinet, he withdrew another towel, then returned and handed it to her.
“That water has probably gotten a little chilly. I’ll go wrestle up something for you to wear.
And with that he was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Designing Berlin
7.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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