I thought those came as a pair?
‘But you look like you might need a hairdryer first.’
I begin to pat my hair, suddenly aware of what a sight I must be. But, bugger it, I’m not here to have sex, even if the stranger in my bed is criminally good looking.
‘Look here,’ I begin, gathering my somewhat forced indignation around me like a cloak, ‘I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but I think we can both agree that it’s time you left.’
That’ll teach him. Life of crime meet Miss Manners at her best.
‘I’m pretty sure you have that the wrong way around,’ he replies, still sleep rumpled and gorgeous as he rubs one massive paw though his almost chestnut coloured hair. That’s to say, his hand—he rubs ahandthrough his sandy coloured hair. A big hand. A really big hand. I hopetheycome as a matching pair. Otherwise, that would just be odd.
But he’s still smirking.
I take a deep breath and stick with my authoritative tone. Control the situation, don’t let it control you. ‘If you leave now,’ I begin, ‘we’ll say no more about it. You’ll just toddle off, and I won’t be forced to call the police.’ I make a shooing notion with my hand. ‘No harm done, see?’
With the exception of the extensive bruising my bum will no doubt develop later on.I hope I haven’t smashed my phone, I think as it pokes me in the bum.
‘The polis? You want to call the polis?’
‘I ... I .. . if I must.’
Why is he smiling? That’s not exactly the response I was expecting. Nor was I expecting to feel the deep, primal tug at my insides as he stretches out to grasp his own phone from the nightstand.
‘Here,’ he says, throwing it to the bottom of the bed. ‘You can use this. The local policeman’s name is Jim. Filed underJ.We went to school together,’ he adds, probably interpreting my expression. ‘On you go. Funnily enough, I saw him earlier in the pub. He said he was on duty tonight. This’ll give him a laugh.’
‘Oh, I’m sure,’ I respond tartly. ‘But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just dial emergency services—999. You know, rather than call your accomplice.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he replies, sitting up. He leans back against the roughhewn wooden headboard and mountain of snowy white pillows, folding his arms across his chest and adding a little pec flex for good measure.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ I snipe, lifting my bum a little to pull my phone from my back pocket.
‘Whatever makes you say that?’
‘The whole chest flex thing for a start,’ I mumble, swiping it open to input my passcode.
‘I’ll grant you, it’s maybe no’ so appealing as what you can do with yours.’ Phone in hand, I’m suddenly aware of my breasts, then the frilly ruffle edging of my bra, and lastly, my lack of coverage. My head comes up slowly, my gaze meeting his. ‘I can’t jiggle mine,’ he qualifies oh-so helpfully.
‘I amnotjiggling,’ I splutter, scanning the room for my sweater. The bedroom is long with an open door at the far end leading to a shower room, but it’s not a very deep space.Hence my meeting with the wall and almost the bottom of the staircase.On instinct, I get to my knees, reaching out to pull the corner of the duvet towards my chest in the interest of modesty.
‘You’re sure you want to do that?’
I halt in my action of pulling the covering closer, my gaze following the stranger’s to where I’ve left him a little more exposed.The trail of hair widens, the suggestion of muscled hipbone. You know—that amazing V?
Cover me to expose him? The thought has its merits, for sure, because I think I’d quite like to know if I’d imagined the size of the package in the dark.I might’ve been mistaken, small hands and all that.
As he speaks, my attention snaps back to his face.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve had so much fun in bed. Alone.’ His dark eyes positively gleam with mischief. Meanwhile, mine see red. As red as my cheeks, at least.
‘That’s it. I’m calling the police.’
‘Fine, go ahead,’ he replies with a short flourish of his hand. ‘Not that I’d expect Jim to call around before the morning.’
‘You can’t be serious. You think this is a joke?’
‘Some would think so,’ I think he says, his words coughed into his hand.
So or Mo? He can’t mean . ..
Still clutching the bedding with one hand, I raise my head slowly from the screen of my phone, the knot in my stomach tightening. ‘What has Mo got to do with this?’ My words halt immediately, my head filled with only one thought.
Mo didn’t only order the food in the bloody fridge.
He ordered me a man!
