From Paris With Love This Christmas. Jules Wake

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СКАЧАТЬ of condensation, dripping bottles and the shock of the cold on his throat were abruptly terminated by an outraged shriek as he took his third step into the room.

      Bloody hell fire. Lying completely naked – why wouldn’t she be in a bath – was a vision of rosy tipped nipples, magnolia skin, long legs and a narrow strip of strawberry blonde that declared the owner was a natural blonde. He swallowed hard, unable to take his gaze from her pert high breasts, which she was doing her best to cover by crossing her arms.

      ‘Get out, get out!’ She flapped her hands at him.

      ‘Shit, what are you doing in here?’

      ‘Taking a bath, you espèce d’imbécile? What are you doing?’

      Jason tried to avert his gaze to focus on her face. Even at the height of her embarrassment, the flush that outlined her high cheekbones was dainty pink.

      ‘I was hoping to take a shower.’

      ‘Turn around. Stop looking.’

      He bit his lip and turned around. ‘I was trying.’ Not as hard as he was trying not to snigger now.

      ‘Try harder,’ she snapped.

      He heard a slosh of water and the slide of skin on plastic and a thud as she manoeuvred out of the bath.

      When he turned round, she had a towel firmly wrapped around her, toga style.

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you still doing here? As Laurie’s not here I thought you’d be on the next plane back.’

      There was a silence and all he could see was the crown of her head. It gave him a momentary feeling of victory. Then she tipped her head up, her chin thrust upwards.

      ‘I thought I’d stay until she comes back.’

      She was in for a very long wait then. He sucked in his cheeks trying to bite back a smirk. ‘When did you last speak to her?’

      ‘This afternoon.’

      Jason almost laughed out loud as he caught the reflection in the mirror of her quickly crossing her fingers and slipping them behind her back. With her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyes watching him warily, she reminded him of a defiant teenager, except that there was nothing teenage about her body; she was all woman.

      ‘Funny that she didn’t mention she’d moved to Yorkshire permanently.’ There didn’t seem much point trying to hide it any more. Siena would realise soon enough that her sister now lived in the house in Yorkshire.

      Her eyes clouded and he could see her weighing up what to say next. He wanted to laugh, but something in her face made him aware for the first time of a slight hint of vulnerability. Not as self-possessed as he’d assumed. It made him pause.

      ‘It was a really bad line,’ she tossed her chin in the air, ‘but it doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? You said she’d moved to Yorkshire. So, what? You thought you’d move in?’

      She folded her arms, giving him a hard stare before realising it’s pretty difficult to hang on to a towel and fold your arms. The towel slipped, revealing one very erect and perky nipple. Desire shot to his groin. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, trying to quash the unruly thought that he wanted to reach forwards and touch her naked breast. What the—? Where the hell had that come from? He was in danger of embarrassing himself in his boxers.

      Flushed from her bath, her chest rising and falling with fast breaths of indignation, her pink, pink mouth pursed in imperious indignation, she looked very cute. The kind of cute he’d long since given up on. The kind of cute that needed a lot of looking after which, as he’d so disastrously proved, he was not capable of.

      ‘If you leave now, I won’t report you to the police. I took your registration number down last night, you know.’ The way she lifted her chin, trying to hold his gaze, told him she had a nice line in bravado but was making every word up.

      ‘The police will find you. I texted my mother. Go now and I won’t tell your company.’

      Jason frowned as she carried on talking complete gibberish, taking perverse pleasure in her rising determination to appear in control, which he knew wasn’t very nice of him but he didn’t want to be nice to this girl. He wanted her out of his house.

      Two spots of colour burned fiercely on her cheeks, giving her away.

      ‘Won’t tell them what exactly?’ He leaned his hip against the sink and folded his arms.

      What was she on about? He was the company, Will was a silent partner, so there was him, and Ben, but most of the time Ben was away with the fairies. She obviously meant some other company, although he wasn’t sure where that came in.

      ‘That you’re,’ he could see her struggling to find the word, ‘squatting.’

      ‘Squatting?’ He spat the word out. No one accused him of not paying his way, especially not these days when money was tight. How many times had he tried to pay Laurie more in rent than the ridiculously low amount she charged? Every time she insisted he was doing her a favour keeping an eye on the house.

      ‘Yes.’ She shrugged her wide but fine boned shoulders. ‘I bet you used the same key as last night when you let me in.’

      ‘And how did I get that key?’

      Her mouth shut with a tight snap. The silence yawned between them and he left it hanging there, stringing out her uncertainty.

      Her mouth firmed in a mutinous line and her eyes narrowed.

      His mouth quirked as he imagined the Sergio Leone music from A Fistful of Dollars and a standoff between two cowboys.

      She tossed her head. ‘I don’t know but I’d like you to leave.’

      ‘For the record, sweet cheeks, I live here. And newsflash, I’m having a shower right now.’ He turned his back on her, switched the shower on and pulled his boxers down.

      With a startled gasp, she fled from the bathroom and he heard her bedroom door slam.

      Jason stomped down the stairs ready to strangle someone. Preferably Siena with one ‘n’. No judge in the land would see him go down. The spoilt brat had used every last drop of hot water. He felt chilled to the bone and three seconds of lukewarm water had almost finished him off. She was still hiding in her room and just as bloody well. Hopefully she was packing her bags, although she could organise a taxi herself to the airport this time.

      He stormed over to the fridge about to yank open the door, when he did a double take. Surely not. A plastic container sat on the side by the microwave, ringed with what looked suspiciously like the remnants of a shepherd’s pie. His stomach rolled, the familiar twinge of acid burning. Bugger, he needed a proper meal. Slowly he opened the fridge door. ‘I don’t bloody believe it,’ he yelled and slammed the door shut. Trust fund Barbie had helped herself to his dinner and to add insult to injury had left the plate, cutlery and packaging on the worktop.

      Scrap all previous thoughts, he’d happily drive her to the airport, with her fancy pants СКАЧАТЬ