Golden Binds

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“I’m not company. Company implies something more formal. Where you have to offer cups of coffee and cake and be polite.”

“I’m never polite.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

His charming smile faded as his whiskey-colored gaze landed on her boxers. “Whose are those?”

“Huh?”

His voice had gone from light and flirty to cold. It rocked her for a moment, and she realized she’d actually been enjoying the banter. What was wrong with her? Had they drugged her earlier? Given her something that made her feel attracted to them?

What, Gigi? Like a love potion? Get a grip.

“The boxers. Those are men’s. Whose are they? Do you have a lover?”

She gaped at him in disbelief. “Yep, I’ve got a lover. He’s hiding under the bed.”

He turned to the bed.

“You fucking idiot!” In a fit of anger, she pulled her hand back, balled it, and smacked it into his chest. “Do you really think I’d let you into my bedroom in the middle of the night if I had a lover in here?”

“Was he here earlier?”

“None of your goddamn business, you jerk. Now get out.” She pointed to the window.

&nb

sp; “Fine,” he snapped, making his way to the door.

“What? No, you can’t go out that way.” Not for the first time she was grateful for thick walls that muffled all but the loudest of noises.

“Why not? What’s on the other side?”

She pushed herself in front of the door, spreading her arms and legs out. Oh, he could easily move her if he wanted to. She was a complete lightweight and she felt like an idiot. But if he went out that door, he was dead. He couldn’t sneak out of here, and she couldn’t live with his death on her conscience. Damn him for getting to her.

“I don’t have a lover, all right? Satisfied?”

“Not at all.” He watched her with a narrow-eyed intensity she hadn’t thought him capable of. Seemed like he hid a lot behind that easy-going exterior.

“A woman can wear a pair of men’s boxers. It’s not a fucking crime.” She moved cautiously away from the door.

“Joe is going to have a heart attack at your language,” he told her warningly.

She threw her hands up into the air. “Oh, I’m so fucking scared. Shaking in my fucking boots. Oh, I’m not fucking wearing any. How’s my motherfucking language now?”

His lips twitched. “I said Joe would be horrified. Personally, I don’t care. Makes me hot.”

“Everything makes you hot,” she muttered, moving to the chair to sit down. Her legs didn’t seem to be all that steady anymore.

“Now, that hurts. Not everything makes me hot. I have limits.”

She snorted and realized her mistake as he sat on her bed. She should have left him the chair. She didn’t want him anywhere near her bed. He glanced over at the rumpled covers then picked something up. “Now, what do we have here?”

Embarrassment flooded her, along with a hint of fear. “Give that back.” She forced herself to remain sitting, when all she wanted to do was jump up and snatch it out of his hands.

He turned the bunny around, taking in all angles. It was worn in places, had been patched so many times it was unrecognizable from the stuffed animal it had originally been. And it meant more to her than anything else in this house. Well, except for her brother.