Her eyes were all over him, which made him feel even better. “Your turn,” he said.

She pulled the dress farther down on her hips, but stopped just before she got to the really good stuff and gave him that mischievous look he loved. “What’s the credit limit on your American Express card?”

“You stop worrying about credit limits and start worrying about whether or not you’re still going to be able to walk when I get done with you.”

“I’m trembling, Mr. Tough Guy.” She stuck out her lip—stuck out her front. Then she peeled that slinky black fabric down inch by inch over those full round hips, those shapely thighs, giving a performance so sexy he thought he was going to explode before he ever touched her. Even before she lifted first one high heel and then the other to step out of the puddle of net and straps at her feet, he saw that she hadn’t lied about what she didn’t have on.

Two black nylon stockings and a sexy pair of high, high heels were all that was left. She was wild and wicked, and for the rest of the night, she was his.

He wanted to run his hands over every inch of that body, slip his fingers into each crevice, but he’d have to get up to do that, which meant he’d lose this incredible view. Instead, he stayed where he was and stroked her with his eyes, sliding his gaze all the way down those incredible legs and back up to the spot between them.

The seconds ticked by, one after another, and as the silence lengthened, Phoebe’s nervousness returned. Why didn’t he say something? The longer he looked, the more certain she became that he had found something wrong with her. She had been bubbling with sexy confidence, but now she remembered that she wasn’t even close to fashion model skinny. Her thighs weren’t thin enough, her hips were definitely too round, and the only time her stomach had been truly concave was when she’d had the flu. When he showed no sign of breaking the silence, she lost her nerve and reached down to snatch the straps of her dress.

He was immediately on his feet, concern furrowing his brow. “Phoebe, honey, I was kidding about the hooker thing. You know that, don’t you?” He pulled the dress from her fingers and took her in his arms.

His chest was warm against her breasts. She pressed her cheek to one of his hard pectorals. Her mind told her she wasn’t safe in his arms, but her heart felt as if it had found a home.

“Tell me what’s wrong, darlin’. Have I been teasing you too much? You know I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She could hide behind her old flirtatious evasions, or she could be honest. “I’m embarrassed to have you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“I know I should lose ten pounds, but I can’t diet, and you’re used to skinnier women. Valerie is—”