“Don’t worry. I didn’t believe you.”
“And I’m still in your bed! Crap.” This was accompanied by a flurry of movement. “Maybe we can just forget about all this and start over.”
He’d have said he was too tired to care what the hell she was doing, but curiosity got the better of him and he cracked open an eye.
She was hopping out of his bed, small but curvy in a pair of plaid boxers and a dark blue tank top-no bra, which he noticed because one, hello, he was male, and two, he’d gone one full year without sex.
“So can we?”
He blinked and brought his bleary vision back up to her face, which was fixed in an expression that clearly said they were going to be talking for quite a while. Oh, yay. “Can we what?”
“Forget about the kung-fu thing? And the bed thing?”
“Absolutely, if we can also stop talking.” Leaning back again, he snuggled into the chair, enjoying the blissful silence-until she cleared her throat politely.
He ignored her.
“Excuse me. Mr. Wilder?”
Jesus. Mr. Wilder? That had been his father. Not him. Never him. He didn’t need to throw his weight and authority around, demanding respect but getting none. “Look, Goldilocks-”
“Katie.”
“Fine. Katie. You should know that I don’t care if you’re an ax murderer. I need sleep. Kill me while I’m at it if you must, but do it quietly.”
“So you’re just going to sleep right there? Really?”
“Yeah. And I’ll give you a raise to be quiet, very, very quiet.”
“You don’t even know what your brother is paying me.”
No, he didn’t. He didn’t because he hadn’t talked to his brother. “I’ll double whatever it is.”
“Well, that’s just crazy. It’s only a temporary position, a month, until your regular office manager comes back, and-”
“I’ll triple it,” he vowed rashly. “Just please, please stop talking.”
She fell into what he hoped was a lasting silence, and he let out a sigh.
“You’re too big to sleep in that chair,” she murmured.
“Are you offering to share my bed?”
“No!”
Yeah, he didn’t think so. “Hence the chair.”
“I’m sorry, but you really need to leave now.”
“Or you’ll what, kung fu me?”
“You said we could forget that,” she said with disappointed censure.
Wow, that was new, disappointing someone. “If you stopped talking. Which you didn’t.”
Indignant was a good look on her. Her eyes were flashing, arms all akimbo. And he was really enjoying that tank top, especially since she’d gotten a bit chilly in the past few minutes.
“I can’t sleep in your bed while you’re right there staring at me.”
Yeah, pissy too, and actually sort of hot with it.
“I’m sorry about the mix-up,” she said stiffly. “But-”
“You. You’re the mix-up. You’re in my cabin.”
“Fine. I’ll just go to another cabin.”
“Perfect.” He stayed where he was, happy to have her do just that and leave him alone with his own misery. Oh, he’d accepted his new limitations…well, almost. But the not knowing what to do with himself, that got to him.
Move on.
If he had a penny for every time some well-meaning ass-hole had told him that, he’d buy each and every one of them a f**king clue. He wanted what he’d lost, and short of that, he planned to continue to wallow in peace.
But she didn’t leave. He knew this because he could feel her whiskey eyes boring holes in his face. “What now, Goldilocks?”
“It’s dark out there.” She was peering out the window into the admittedly dark, cold night. The sharp wind whistled through the trees and rattled the glass. “It’s so secluded.” She turned to him. “A gentleman would offer to walk me.”
He didn’t know how to break it to her, but he was no gentleman.
“Cameron?”
“Shh, he’s sleeping.”
She let out a sound that defined annoyance. “You are the singularly most unhelpful man I’ve ever met.”
Yeah, He already knew that.
She was shifting around again and bumped into his legs. “Please move so I can get by.”
He didn’t. Interesting that he usually shied away from touch-with the exception of sex, that is-and yet he remained utterly still now, absorbing the fact that her legs were knocking into his.
The sensation was shockingly pleasant.
Unlike her talking. That was distinctly not pleasant. He wanted silence. Needed silence. Needed that more than his next breath.
“Excuse me.”
Without opening his eyes, he dropped his legs down so she could pass him, then settled in again, his hands linked low on his belly, head back, eyes still closed.
The front door opened, then shut.
Ah, yeah. Perfect. Finally alone, where he could contemplate how he’d tell his brothers and Annie that he was back-
“Dammit.”
He shook his head and opened his eyes. Yep, there she was, still with him, leaning against the door, chewing on a thumbnail, her hair wild around her face, her eyes filled with misgivings, her body-
Well, wasn’t that a shame. She’d dressed.
She’d put on white jeans and a pink soft fuzzy sweater that zipped from chin to waist, with two tassels hanging down stopping just short of her br**sts, pointing to them as if in emphasis of how long it’d been since he’d last seen a woman’s br**sts.