His gaze lowered to her lips and he slid closer. The undeniable pull of the man made it hard to think. And that was the problem. Sex was clouding her brain just like the fog in the room. She may have married him for money, but could she keep her heart out of it if they started sleeping together? “Are you this convincing in all your business deals?”

“Am I convincing you?” His hands found her waist and his fingers kneaded her flesh.

“Asking me now when I’m keyed up isn’t fair. You know that, right?”

His other hand came to rest on her thigh and started a slow ascend. “I seldom play fair. I never play when I don’t think I’ll win.”

It was a warning. One she really needed to heed.

Reluctantly, Samantha stopped his hand from moving up her leg. “I’ll think about it,” she told him, because saying no wouldn’t have been possible and saying yes was reckless.

Blake let a grateful smile linger on his lips. “I’ll take that.”

She pushed against his chest, hopped down from the counter, and started to pull her shirt over her head.

“Done thinking already?”

Samantha rolled her eyes and flung her shirt to the floor. Underneath was a pink lacy bra. “Give me your shirt,” she demanded.

“What?” Blake’s eyes never left her br**sts. Men are so easy. A set of boobs rendered them speechless.

“Your shirt.”

He blinked, twice, three times and then unbuttoned his white dress shirt to reveal a span of pure masculine chest.

Tearing her eyes away, Samantha moved around Blake and pushed the shower curtain back. The water had turned cold while they spoke, which served her well. Keeping the rest of her body out of the water, she ducked her head under the spray and shivered as the water wet her hair.

“What are you doing?”

Poor Blake was having a hard time catching up. The fact she’d managed to keep him in a semi state of confusion brought a wave of feminine pleasure over her. “Sorry you missed it, but we just made love in the shower. Leaving here dry would be a dead giveaway.” Her eyes drifted down his frame to his obvious state of arousal pressing inside his slacks. “That and… other things.”

Blake glanced down and moaned.

Samantha pushed her arms into his shirt. After buttoning it up, she carefully removed her bra and then leaned down to remove her jeans. When she kicked free of her clothes and straightened to her full height, Blake’s eyes were riddled with desire so thick she felt sorry for him. The cool water dripping off her hair and down her back did a decent job of chilling her libido.

“You’re wicked.” Blake’s hungry words made her laugh.

He reached for her but she squealed and managed to duck away. He let his hands drop.

“Take a cold shower, Blake. I said I’d think about it.”

“I’ll get naked and we can think about it together.”

She laughed. “Even if I decided to go for your completely foolish proposal, I wouldn’t act on it now… not with a camera in the next room.”

Blake’s rubbed his hands down both sides of his face. “But we’re trying to convince whoever is watching that we did… why not just—”

“Not gonna happen,” she cut him off. “Take a cold shower.” Wearing her underwear and Blake’s shirt, Samantha slipped from the bathroom and smiled as she continued with her packing.

****

They packed a minimal of things, mainly clothes and personal items Samantha needed immediately. Then Blake suggested they hire a moving company to do the rest. He went out of his way to mention his intention in front of the camera in her livingroom. With any luck, whoever planted the surveillance cameras would scramble to remove them before the movers had a chance of finding them.

Neil had already hired some friends to watch the house to follow and record whoever came and went. They might get lucky, find the culprit, and put an end to their watchful eyes.

Back at his Malibu home, Blake informed his staff that any and everything Samantha needed was to be taken care of immediately. She had complete charge of his house and expected her to be treated like the duchess she was. He considered her small role here a launching pad for what was to come.

“It’s been a long time since I had a maid,” Sam told him once they were alone.

“I can’t have my wife doing housework.” He was prepared for her fight, and smiled when she didn’t challenge him.

“I never liked mopping floors. You’ll get no argument from me.”

Such blatant honesty and about the simplest of things, pleased him.

“You won’t have time for that anyway,” he informed her. They sat out on the veranda and watched the sun setting over the Pacific.

“Why’s that?”

“I need you to talk to the caterers and designers about the reception at Albany Hall.”

“You want me to plan a party for a place I’ve never been, for people I’ve never met?”

Blake sent her a sympathetic look. “I need you to approve what they come up with. I trust my staff there completely, but I need them to be prepared to ask you about these things when we get there. It’s best we start that relationship now.”

She stretched her legs out on the chaise and tucked them under a blanket. “Is this the first party you’ve thrown at your home?”

“No.”

“Then who planned them before? I can’t see you doing it.”

Her mind was so sharp. “My mother did most of the party planning.” Although his mother would want to continue planning everything in his ancestral home, he wanted to make certain Samantha had choice over everything.