Whose Bed Is It Anyway? by Natalie Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

rest.’
    â€˜Yeah.’ That wretched heat beat its way into her cheeks. Somehow she couldn’t think ‘rest’ when he was in bed like that—all big and bare and bold.
    â€˜You’re going to sleep in the travel clothes?’ he asked softly, a way too wicked whisper.
    â€˜I don’t have much choice,’ she said wryly.
    â€˜Wear another of my T-shirts.’
    She licked her dry lips. ‘I don’t think the grey is my colour.’ She tried to joke, because she knew he was joking with her like some panto character—all twirling moustache and gleaming eyes.
    â€˜I’m betting all colours would suit you,’ he said.
    â€˜Are you flirting with me again?’ She tried to stand tall. Tried to breathe. But the heat he generated burned her lungs.
    â€˜I was trying for more subtle this time,’ he said. Humour laced his words but his triple-strength-espresso eyes were locked on hers. ‘Is it working? I’m a little rusty.’
    Caitlin couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Couldn’t contain her own rusty reply. ‘Maybe you should try a little harder.’
    He stilled; his alert eyes drilled as if he was searching out her secrets. That tiny roguish twist to his lips remained. ‘How hard?’
    She swallowed. But then shook her head, taking a step back from the ledge; she wasn’t buying into this game. Because it was a game. ‘I’m not sure you can deliver.’
    â€˜How do you know if you don’t let me try?’ His voice deepened; so did the amusement slipping into his eyes. ‘I don’t like not being given the opportunity to prove myself.’
    She dragged in a scalding breath. ‘This is you being brotherly?’
    His smile broadened. His shoulders rose and fell in an easy gesture. ‘You make it very difficult not to tease you.’
    Caitlin sent him a look and stalked into the bathroom, locking the door on his low laughter. The man was all tease, with the lack of shirt and lapse into outrageous flirt. He was only doing it to amuse himself, she knew that, but it was fun and frankly a little flattering to her decimated-by-Dominic ego. So what if James didn’t mean it?
    Trouble was her body was totally buying it. All aware, totally absorbed by his physique. With that chest and those sculpted abs, all she wanted was to wrap herself around him. Her body was taking his carefree, fun flirt way too seriously. Good thing she was human and able to control her bodily desires.
    Will power over want.
    She towelled off and pondered her nightwear dilemma. One of his grey shirts was neatly folded and waiting on a shelf. She half laughed as she saw it, feeling a ridiculous glow at his thoughtfulness. He might have been teasing, but he’d remembered her no-luggage predicament and was genuinely happy to help.
    So the real question was what to wear beneath the tee. She should have been just a smidge less frugal and bought some more knickers this afternoon. Except she’d already blown her daily budget. So now she washed out her undies and hung them over the bath to dry for tomorrow—refusing to wince. The man spent most of his time in emergency camps—he’d have seen worse than a pair of knickers drying over a rail. Fingers crossed her luggage would show up some time soon. For now she slipped into the T-shirt and checked in the mirror how low it fell. Almost to mid-thigh. He’d never know whether she had undies on or not. It wasn’t a problem at all. Right?
    Emerging from the bathroom, she stopped in the doorway and saw he’d created a Great Wall of Pillows in an engineering feat that NASA scientists would be proud of.
    â€˜Like the border?’ He winked at her from where he stood on his side of the bed.
    â€˜Impressive.’ She was so talking about the tower, not James in nothing but boxers. ‘That’s a very big...pile of pillows.’
    His eyes danced. ‘I did ship in some