Get a Clue(26)

“Sorry,” he said with dubious regret. “Go on.”

“It’s just that I don’t know how he got in—”

“Wait.” He tightened his grip on her and pulled back to see her face. “This isn’t about you coming here for a slumber party, is it?”

“No!”

“Damn.” He sighed, but sounding extremely alert now, he gave her one of those long, studying looks that did something funny to her belly. “Finish.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized he was once again shirtless, but as he was still holding her, that was only a bonus. “I saw a face leaning over me—” Just saying it brought it back. “Leering—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t know what to do, so I—”

“Jumped me.” He held onto her when she might have wriggled free, but truthfully, she didn’t want to get away.

Even awkwardly sprawled over the top of him, she could feel the easy strength in his body, the delicious heat, and then there was the disconcerting fact that he smelled better than the most expensive chocolate, better than coffee on a freezing morning, better than anything she’d ever smelled, which was really damn unfair.

The room had seemed pitch-black when she’d first entered in her blind panic, but her eyes had slowly adjusted. He had candles in a tray on the dresser, too, though there was only one left burning, just a small flicker of light in the huge room.#p#分页标题#e#

He brushed her hair from her face. “Did you really see a face, or did you have a dream about a face?”

“I really saw a face.” At least she thought so. “When I opened my eyes, someone was leaning over me.”

His sharp gaze swiveled to the door, which she’d left wide open. “Wait here.”

“What?” She scrambled to her knees when he set her aside and rose out of the bed, wearing . . . nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“Oh, my God,” she said, staring, mouth open.

Perfectly at home in his own skin, he walked to his bag on a chair and took out a pair of sweats.

The man had the best ass she’d ever seen. She was still staring when he pulled on the sweats, and oh, baby, how they fit. Low on the hips, snug to his fabulous physique . . . if she hadn’t been so afraid, she might have pretended to be. “You can’t go! What if it gets you?”

He glanced back at her, and even in the dark, with the grim mood hovering over them, she caught his vague and brief amusement. “Don’t worry, Princess. I can handle myself.”

“But . . .”

Without bothering to tie the sweats, he moved to the door, ready to defend her world.

“Cooper? I’m sorry I called you a jerk earlier. You’re not.”

A brief smile touched his lips. “Yeah, I am.” He nodded toward her. “Stay.”

Right. Stay. Normally just the word would awaken every ornery, defensive bone she had, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not when she’d slid beneath his blankets and yanked them up to her chin, absorbing the incredible body heat he’d left behind; not when she’d been struck dumb and mute by the incredible protective gesture he’d just given her, whether he’d meant to or not.

Not when God knew what was out there, waiting.

At that thought, she clutched his blankets closer, frozen to the spot. What had she sent him into? If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. She should go after him, she should . . . do as he said and stay because he seemed more than capable of taking care of himself, and, in fact, more than a little dangerous in his own right.

Just the way he’d left the room, without drama or a need to show off, proved that.

She’d grown up with testosterone all around her, but typically her relationships with her brothers had been about torture. That is, their torture of her. The few times she’d needed any sort of rescuing or protecting, she’d done it on her own.

The men she’d been with had been more of the same. In the time she and Dean had been together, she’d rescued him quite a few times—from his boss, from other women, from his family.

He’d not returned the favor even once.

Which brought her back to her past decisions, and how she’d always made the wrong ones.

But no more.

It didn’t matter how attracted she was to Cooper. When he got back—if he got back—she’d thank him, and then go back to sleep.

Temptation averted.

If only she could avert her tendency to screw up just as easily.





In another part of the house entirely, a shadow flattened against the wall as Cooper moved down the hallway.

Sweat beading.