Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

‘If I were more like George, I’d have no trouble telling you how well you wear my T-shirt.’ His smile deepened, a small dimple appearing in one cheek. ‘And how much I’m kicking myself for being so abrupt last night.’

Abrupt? He’d been more than abrupt.

‘I hope you can forgive me,’ he said, as smooth as molten chocolate.

She didn’t trust anyone who said anything nice to her—certainly not a man. Not any more. She was sure that in the depths of James’ equally molten chocolate eyes, she’d find calculation. ‘Is that what you really want?’ she asked bluntly.

‘What I really want...?’ he echoed softly.

Oh, she was not falling for his sudden smoothness. She knew what he was up to. ‘You’re worried I’m going to tell the world what a jerk the James Wolfe actually is?’

His concern was laughable. He clearly wasn’t aware there was no way the world would ever believe her.

His chin lifted, his smile turned self-mocking. ‘Not worried about the world, but I am a little concerned about what George might say.’

George would probably laugh.

‘So,’ she challenged. ‘You thought you’d turn on the Wolfe charm and befuddle me so much I’d forget all about it?’

His brows arched high. ‘I thought it was worth a try.’

He was so obviously joking—trying to tease them out of this embarrassing situation. But to have another guy faking flirt with her for his own gain? She couldn’t raise a smile. ‘Why?’ she asked tartly. ‘You need the world to think nothing but the best of you? Your ego is so huge you need every woman to want you?’

He paused, a small laugh escaping beneath his breath. ‘No, I just wanted you to forget how rude I was. But if you want to want me, I guess that’s okay too.’ He shrugged.

‘I don’t want you.’

‘No?’ He adopted a farcically crestfallen look.

Suddenly she couldn’t not laugh. ‘You’re appalling.’ Last night she’d never have imagined he’d be so ridiculous. ‘What would you have done if I said I did want you?’

‘You calling my bluff?’ His smile burst back.

‘So it was a bluff.’ She’d been right, the guy was only out to cover his butt. That hot appreciative look he’d sent her way before was an act. The ‘explanation’ of why her relationship with George mattered was his fear for his reputation. Not because he was attracted to her and didn’t want to tread on his brother’s toes. And she was not remotely disappointed by that fact.

His expression went bland enough to mask all manner of nefarious intentions—but his dark eyes danced. ‘I can neither confirm or deny.’

‘Well, I can’t conform.’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t be one of your millions of adorers.’ She didn’t care how many lives he’d saved, she wasn’t worshipping him.

His chin lifted in a sudden movement, as if he were a predator who’d just caught a whiff of tasty prey nearby. ‘True,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You’re not like most women I meet.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment, given you only seem to meet people who think you’re the best thing ever. It strikes me you’ve gotten away with too much for too long.’

‘I have?’ he queried, his lips almost quirking into another of those smiles. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

Caitlin paused, counting to ten to douse the flicker of attraction. She was super glad her ‘hideaway’ flight clothes swamped her and hid the unreasonable reaction of her body to his. She was all tight, all hot. Perhaps she’d picked up flu on the flight?

She didn’t want this trip to start fraught with failure. Yet it was already. Lost luggage. Random midnight roommate. Looming homelessness. Could it get any worse?

Actually, yes. She’d run away from worse. She could handle this. She might be screwed but she wasn’t going to beg. She’d figure something out. She had in the past, she would now. She straightened her shoulders and sucked it up. ‘I’ll go to a hotel.’

‘No,’ he shot back surprisingly quickly. ‘Hotels are awful,’ he added. ‘Soulless places. Stay here.’ His eyes twinkled.

‘There really isn’t room.’

‘Sure there is,’ he said easily. ‘We managed just fine last night, didn’t we?’

Last night she’d lain there for ages, barely breathing before accepting the guy was making like a gigantic piece of Lego. Immovable, inanimate, so faultless he had to be plastic. She’d wished he’d snored or something—she’d wanted to find a flaw, aside from the fact he’d briefly leapt to an unflattering assumption. But even now, with the air of weariness he wore, with the shadows under his eyes and the stubble on his jaw, even with that raw scar, he was the most startlingly sexy man she’d met. So truthfully, she hadn’t managed that well at all. But given how broke she was, she was going to have to cope. The question was whether he wanted to—and if so, why he would?

‘You don’t mind the state it’s in?’ She paused to clear the frog from her throat. ‘Or being so squashed?’

‘This is nothing.’ He looked amused.

Of course, he’d have seen places in far worse messes and no doubt lived in greatly uncomfortable situations for months at a time. Because on that level, he was that hero.

‘I have a twin. I’m used to sharing,’ he explained. ‘We used to have a line of masking tape down on the floor marking out the boundary. Pain of death if you crossed it.’

Caitlin could easily imagine the scene. But she knew he came from wealth. His family had created the world’s most popular independent travel guides. A total dynasty, they sold millions of books each year. Surely he’d grown up in a huge house? Her innards softened; the guy was trying to make her feel better. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with gross exaggeration. ‘You didn’t have your own room?’

‘Course not,’ he answered instantly. ‘We fought, but we’re brothers. Half the time Jack would be in there as well.’ He chuckled. ‘When we got older, sure, we had our own rooms. But we were really close.’

Were. She paused, wondering about why that was. But she wasn’t going to pry about anything so personal. Besides, he was only sharing this to make her feel as if she weren’t putting him out. ‘And how long is it since the two of you shared a room?’ she asked bluntly.

He laughed. ‘About twenty years,’ he conceded.

Hmm. ‘So this arrangement...would be...brotherly?’

‘Sure.’ His eyes crinkled even more at the corners. ‘I really am used to sharing. Sometimes it’s really cramped quarters when I’m on an assignment.’

‘All the more reason for you to have your space now you’re at home.’ She really shouldn’t stay.

‘You don’t take up that much space.’ He grinned amiably. ‘I like to curl up like a cat.’

Ha. ‘I slept beside you last night. I know how much you stretch out.’

A rueful expression crossed his face. ‘Did I leave you any room?’

‘Less than an inch.’

‘Sorry about that. We can do something better with the pillows.’

Caitlin pressed her lips together for a moment to suppress the heat suddenly flaring inside. She could well imagine his physical demands would be great. He was the kind to want more. To take more.

‘I can’t let you do this.’ Ugh, her voice had gone husky. She cleared her throat. ‘I’ll disturb you.’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘I can sleep through anything.’

Actually, she figured that was true. He’d been out cold last night. ‘So you’re suggesting that we—two total strangers—share this one room?’

‘I am.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’ll only be for a couple days at most. I’ll be heading out on another assignment soon. You’ll have the place to yourself the rest of your month.’

Given she had no back-up plan,

what choice did she have? But there was that one thing and she couldn’t not spell it out. ‘You honestly think it can work given what you thought on seeing me here last night?’

‘I was really tired. Not thinking clearly.’ For the first time he glanced away from her first. ‘You can’t blame me. I think most men look at you and think “sex”.’

‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’ she drawled acidly.

‘Hey, I’m just a man.’

‘But you’re not, are you? You’re not just any man.’

He looked back at her. ‘I think you’ll find I’m very much just a man.’

‘Given that, I’m really not sure it’s a good idea I stay here.’

He studied her silently. Then smiled gently. ‘Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about.’

Somehow—ridiculous as it was, given he was trying to reassure her—she felt even more insulted than she had last night. ‘Sweetheart?’

He grinned. ‘Sugar, honeypot...’