Blame it on the Bikini - Page 13

She couldn’t believe her madness. Her brain had been lost somewhere between here and the bar.

He stood and picked up the pages as they came out of the printer and put highlighters and sticky notes in front of her. She almost laughed. It seemed the guy was as much of a stationery addict as she was.

‘It’s all vital for doing an assignment.’ He winked. ‘I’m off to make you some coffee while you get started.’

He’d left the documents open on screen so she could cut and paste quotes as necessary. Hell, he’d even opened up a documents file, named for her, and saved the other cases he’d downloaded. She stared at them, not taking in a word, just waiting.

Five minutes later he put the steaming mug in front of her and stayed on the other side of the desk.

‘I’m turning in now. There’s more coffee in the machine in the kitchen, fruit in the bowl, chocolate on hand too. Stay as late as you like. Don’t go walking out there at some stupid hour of the morning.’

‘I can’t stay the whole night.’ There was just no way.

‘It’ll probably take you all night to get the assignment done anyway. No point in taking unnecessary risks.’ He walked back to the doorway in jeans and tee—she noticed his feet were now bare.

‘Thanks,’ she said rustily. ‘Really appreciate this.’ And was so disappointed when he disappeared down the hallway.

She stared at the screen. All this info was at her fingertips. All she had to do was read, assimilate, process, write. It wasn’t that hard. She’d done enough essays to know what her lecturers wanted and what it was she needed to get that extra half grade.

But the house was silent.

Acutely aware of his presence under the roof, she sat stupidly still, listening for sounds of him. Imagining going to find him—imagining sliding into that mountainous cloud of a bed and …

She’d pushed him away and it had worked. For him. She still wanted what she couldn’t have and with that she’d lost her ability to concentrate. That was a first. She glanced at the big printer on the table behind her. Half a tree’s worth of paper and twenty minutes later she was ready to leave.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked just as she’d tiptoed to the front door.

She whirled around. What was she doing? What was he doing standing there almost completely bare? Only a pair of boxer shorts preserved his modesty and even then they were that knit-cotton variety that clung rather than hung loose. And speaking of things being hung …

She burned. ‘I can’t work here.’ It was a pathetic whisper.

‘You’re sneaking out.’ He crossed his arms. It only emphasised his biceps. It was so unfair of him to have such a fit body.

‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

‘How are you planning on getting home?’

‘I can walk.’

‘It’s after two in the morning.’

‘I walk home from the bar all the time. I have a safety alarm. I walk along well-lit streets. I’m not stupid.’

His jaw clenched. ‘Take my car.’

Could he make it worse for her? ‘No, that’s okay. I’m fine walking.’

‘It’s not fine for anyone to walk home alone this time of night. Take my car.’

She sighed. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I can’t.’

‘You have a real issue accepting help, don’t you?’ he growled.

Possibly. Okay, yes, particularly from him. His whole ‘friendly’ act was confusing her hormones more. ‘I can’t drive,’ she admitted in a low voice. ‘I’ve never got my licence. I’ve never learned to drive.’

For a second his mouth hung open. ‘Everyone learns to drive. It’s a life skill. Didn’t your dad teach you?’

Her dad didn’t drive either. That was because the accident at the factory years ago had left him with a limp and unable to use his right arm. He’d been a sickness beneficiary ever since. Living in a house that was damp, in a hideous part of town that was getting rougher by the day. She was determined to get her parents out of there. She owed it to them. ‘You’re assuming we had a car,’ she said bluntly. They couldn’t afford many things most people would consider basic necessities, like a car and petrol or even their power bill most of the time.

‘Okay.’ He turned and strode back to his bedroom. ‘I’ll drive you.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ she called after him, beyond frustrated and embarrassed and frankly miserable.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘It’s way too late for that.’ He returned, jeans on, tee in hand. ‘I’ll drop you home.’

She needed him to put the tee on, and she really needed him too. She’d had such sensual thoughts in the past hour she was almost insane with it.

But he read her fierce expression wrong. ‘Don’t you dare argue with me any more.’

He opened the front door and waited for her.

To her horror her eyes filled and she quickly walked out. She was too strung out to argue. She’d not admitted to anyone the struggle she’d been having. Not even to Lauren. But she was so tired. The relentless shifts, the constant pressure of squeezing in assignment after assignment, of fitting in lectures around work, of desperately trying to get the highest of grades every time, of never, ever getting enough sleep. But it was something she alone had to deal with. And she certainly couldn’t lose more time or sleep fantasising about him.

CHAPTER SIX

BRAD’S tension didn’t ease as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door in the middle of the night for her. For someone so independent, her inability to drive threw him. They lived in New Zealand. Everyone drove here. And she shouldn’t be walking home alone night after night after work at the bar. She was so pale; the amount of work she had on bothered him. It didn’t help that he’d lumbered her with this party as well. He was thoughtless. And, yes, selfish.

Because all it had been about was him stealing time with her. He’d wanted her—and any excuse would do to get that time. But now? Now he really was concerned.

‘I’ll teach you to drive,’ he said, putting his car in gear and pulling out into the quiet, dark street.

‘Thanks all the same but it’s not necessary. I live centrally. I walk to work. I use public transport—it’s better for the environment.’

‘You’re happy to learn bar tricks from Jonny,’ he pointed out, annoyance biting at her refusal.

‘I wouldn’t want to damage your car.’

His body tautened to a ridiculous degree, urging him to pull over and kiss her into silence. Into saying yes—to this, to anything, to everything. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. Who’d have thought that a picture could have affected him li

ke this?

No. It wasn’t just the picture. It was every time she opened her mouth and shot him down while eating him up with her eyes. If they ever got it on, it would be mind-blowing. He knew it. But that wasn’t happening. She wasn’t into flings and he wasn’t into anything else and he was man enough to back off. He’d drop her home now and go out tomorrow night and find a new friend to play with.

But the idea left him cold. Instead, he went back to thinking about her.

‘About Lauren’s party.’ He revved the engine while waiting at another infernal red light. The ten-minute drive seemed to be taking for ever. ‘If it’s too much for you—’

‘It’s not too much.’ She interrupted him and he heard the attempted smile in her voice. ‘I just got behind on this one assignment and I’ll get that done tonight. At home. I want to help. I can do it. Just to the left here is fine.’ She pointed out her apartment.

‘I haven’t thought much more about it.’ He hadn’t thought about the party at all. He’d spent all his spare moments imagining the delicious things he’d do to Mya the minute she let him.

She turned to face him as he cut the engine. ‘The cocktails will be fun. Just get in a good band and a DJ and good food. It’ll be fine.’

He flicked on the interior light so he could see her properly. ‘You wouldn’t be lowering your standards for me, would you?’

The colour ran under her skin but she kept on her smile as she shook her head. ‘I’d never do that. I still expect the best.’

Brad grinned despite his disappointment. She’d have got the best. Her automatic, instant refusals of anything he offered? They pricked his pride. He wished she’d come to him, wished she’d be as unable to resist their chemistry as much as he seemed unable to.

‘I really don’t know how to thank you.’ She clutched the door handle, her eyes wide and filled with something he really wished was desire.

‘I can think of a couple of ways.’ He couldn’t help one last little tease.

Tags: Natalie Anderson Billionaire Romance
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