Jill Shalvis - Instant Attraction

“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 fucking 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 breasts, pointing to them as if in emphasis of how long it’d been since he’d last seen a woman’s breasts.

“It’s really dark out there.”

“Yes,” he agreed, looking to where the stars littered the black velvet sky like a sea of diamonds. There was no sky on earth like a Sierra night sky. He waited to be moved by it, as a sort of test, a gauge of his emotional depth. He waited for the mystic wonder to hit him like it used to.

Waited.

And waited…

Nothing. Not even a twinge. “Which means it’s also too dark for any ax murderers to find you,” he pointed out.

“That may be, but there’s something else out there, something that always lurks in the bushes and makes this sort of rustling noise. It’s done it all week.”

He met her gaze. Those pale, clear depths could really haunt him, could make him yearn. Except he no longer did things like get haunted or yearn. “Nothing’s stalking you. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Well, there’s been some sightings of Big Foot over the years.”

She looked horrified but spoke bravely, “There’s no such thing.”

“Tell that to the people who reported seeing him. Or to the bushes next time they…rustle?”

She nodded in confirmation. “There must be an explanation.”

“Sure there is. It’s Old Pete. He runs the gas station in town. He grew up on a commune and hasn’t shaved since the seventies.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Is this amusing to you?” Her hands went to her hips. “Making fun of my fears?”

What was amusing was his own reaction to baiting her. Why it was so much fun, he had no idea, but he was enjoying the spark in her eyes, the attitude all over her, and for some stupid reason, loved her crazy bed-head hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You are not.”

Okay, he wasn’t. “Look, I’m tired. It’s like three in the morning. I’m feeling punchy.”

“It’s one. One in the morning.”

“Well, it feels like three. I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight and I’m dead on my feet.”

“Does that mean you’re not moving?”

“Not a single inch.” He closed his eyes again.

“Maybe Annie-”

“Go for it. But fair warning, she’s cranky when she doesn’t get her sleep.”

A sound of frustration left her, but Cam was already drifting off, dreaming about his knee not aching, dreaming what Annie would be cooking for breakfast in the morning up in the main lodge, dreaming about his feisty Goldilocks sleeping in his bed and whether he could coax her to share the bed tomorrow night…

Huh.

Seemed as if maybe he was feeling plenty of things, after all.

Cam woke up to the sun slanting through the window into his face.

And something else was right in his face.

The temp, the one with a healthy fear of ax murderers and the dark. The one with the quick wit and shiny hair and the sweet soulful eyes that stared into his as if he were a loaded shotgun. Odd how he found that sexy. “Hey…” He’d already forgotten her given name.

“Katie,” she supplied helpfully, in the tone of “Bite me, asshole.”

Aw, she thought he was sexy too.

“You fell asleep,” she said tightly. “Dead asleep, as if it was no big deal for us, two perfect strangers, to sleep together.”

She had a point, and in the light of day, which was currently blinding him, he felt just a little bit guilty that he hadn’t gotten up and left her his cabin. “I was really tired-”

Abruptly, she turned and left the bedroom.

Yeah, that charm of his was working wonders.

She’d made his bed. She’d changed her clothes, fixed up her hair, and apparently also built up a pretty big attitude. With a sigh, he got up, his knee giving him a hot, fiery stab of pain just for shits and giggles. Wincing, he thought belovedly of the Vicodin he’d given up because he’d liked it too much, and followed her into his living room, noticing that her hair smelled good, damn good. “I really am sorry.”

“You are forgiven,” she said formally, even politely, as she handed him back his key and picked up her bags, turning toward the door.

In his experience, women weren’t much into forgiving, so her words left him a little confused. “I’m forgiven?”

“Absolutely.” She struggled to hold her stuff and open the front door, so he reached around her to help. Their hands tangled on the knob. Her hair smelled good. And then there was her booty, a very fine booty, which bumped into the front of his thigh, and he abruptly, unexpectedly, noticed her as a woman.

Okay, so he’d noticed her as a woman last night, in her tank top sans bra. He’d have to have been dead not to; but it magnified now, much like those eyes behind her glasses, and if he’d been all the way awake instead of groggy and hurting, it might have shocked him. He wasn’t used to being back among the living, feeling things like hot and bothered.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” She pulled open the door, shivering as the early icy air sliced through them. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell Stone you tripled my salary. It’s very generous of you.”

“Hey, wait. What?”

But she was out the door, shutting it in his face. He yanked it open in time to see her swinging her very cute little ass down the front steps to the path. “Goldilocks.”

“Sorry. Can’t stop.” She was peeking beneath each bush that she passed. “I don’t want to wake up Big Foot.”

“Aren’t you funny.”

“Oh, I’m a riot.” She flashed him a quick look over her shoulder as she paused to push up her glasses, looking quite pleased with herself. “I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with Stone, and I’m never late.”

“I did not offer to triple your salary.”

“Oh, yes, you most definitely did. You said, and I quote, ‘I’ll triple your salary if you stop talking.’”

Oh, Christ. He had said that. He quickly switched mental gears from figuring out how to get her back into his bed to getting her to forget the raise because Stone was going to kill him. “But you didn’t,” he said, just a little desperately. “You never stopped talking.”

She only smiled, flashing a little dimple on the right side.

Hell of a time to remember that once upon a time, before he’d fucked up his life, he’d had a serious softness for dimples.

“How would you know if I did?” she asked. “You were snoring.”

And smart-asses. He had a soft spot for smart-asses too. Had he thought her a sweet little thing? Try feisty as hell.

Another personal favorite.

What was happening to him? He’d been having a great time feeling sorry for himself, wallowing. Plus, he’d spent his entire life being wary of people since all they’d ever wanted was a piece of him-past tense-and here he was, already forgetting to put up his guard. “I don’t snore.”

“Oh, yes, you do. Loudly. Like this-” Turning back to face him, she snorted air through her mouth, sounding like an elephant in heat as she backed down the path toward the main lodge.

“You’re making that up. I don’t snore, and you weren’t quiet. There was no way you could have held your tongue.” He pointed at her. “You, Goldilocks, are not a tongue holder.”

She laughed again, and he felt something tug deep in his gut as she sauntered off. And for a long moment he just stood there in the doorway of the icy morning, watching her go. Eventually, the cold got to him.

In no hurry to face his family, he headed back inside the cabin to the shower. As far as delaying tactics went, it felt like a good one. He hadn’t seen his brothers or Annie in close to a year. Hadn’t seen anyone who’d once mattered to him in all that time. But he’d hardly stepped out of the shower before he heard his front door open and Stone call out his name.

Showtime.

Cam opened the bathroom door and faced the music.

Stone stood there with Annie. She’d been only eighteen when she’d taken in an eight-year-old Cam as her own, but she owned the age-old maternal expression on her face, the one that said she didn’t know whether to hug him or kill him. Stone too. The both of them stood there staring at Cam as if they’d seen a ghost.

And to be fair, he certainly must look like one after all these months without a word. They had the same green eyes, which could be warm and laughing, or icy and slicing. Annie, short but mighty, stepped forward, hers definitely doing the latter. “Hey, Annie-”

Which was all he got out before Annie put two hands to his chest and pushed. “Don’t you hey me.”

Ever the middle child, and therefore the peacemaker, Stone pulled her back before she could push him again.

“Let me go. I’m not done with him yet.”

“Yes, you are.” Stone eyed Cam evenly. Eleven months older than Cam, he’d made it his life’s goal to be superior, bossy, and nosy as hell. He took one good long look at Cam and then just let out a breath. “You’re really back.”

“In the flesh.” Far more pummeled by looking into his brother’s face than from his aunt’s shove, Cam just soaked the sight of them in because damn, it was good to see these guys, the only people in his entire life who’d ever accepted him for who he was outside the celebrity.

And just like that, a whole bunch of messy, shitty emotions slapped into him, emotions he hadn’t wanted to face, emotions that gripped his throat like a vise. Still wearing only a towel, he carefully let out a breath. “For better or worse.”