Darien dials, lifting the phone to his ear and letting his other hand rake lazily through his hair. Heidi's pulse jumps at the masculine glory displayed before her. She tries to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but the sight pins her there.
He speaks into the phone with effortless authority, talking like he's giving an order to a bunch of stray wolves, and she sits there, naked under the sheets, feeling absurdly nervous. Funny how she is not sweating because of the call—no. It's because of him. Because she knows if he glances back right now and catches her staring, he'll never let her live it down.
When he finally hangs up, he tosses the phone onto the bed and gives her a look that says I've handled it.
"Problem solved."
Her shoulders drop with a rush of relief she didn't expect. "Thank God."
