His L.A. Cinderella. Trish Wylie
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Название: His L.A. Cinderella
Автор: Trish Wylie
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Romance
isbn: 9781408911778
isbn:
She had to sit on the edge of the bathtub to struggle her way out of everything without another dizzy spell. Then she hid the offending underwear under a pile of towels, in case he decided to use the bathroom before he left. Stupid cold! That was what she got for working in a room full of children—she must have incubated the germs on the plane. So much for being considerate and taking the time to see the children through the last term, postponing her trip by a couple of weeks until the summer holidays. They’d repaid her in germs. Bless them.
‘You okay in there?’ He sounded as if he was standing right by the door.
When she yanked it open, he was.
‘You can go away now.’
Will blocked her exit and took his sweet time looking her over from head to toe and back up again, for the second time in as many hours. Only this time it left her skin tingling with more than the cold sweat from her cold. Just one comment about her two-sizes-too-big pyjamas and he was a dead man.
Then his gaze clashed with hers and her eyes widened. What was that?
He stepped back. ‘Bed.’
Cassidy made a big deal about making sure she patted the covers down the full length of her legs when she was between the cool cotton sheets. The room was wonderfully cool too. Had he turned on the air-conditioning for her? Then she saw the glass of water on the bedside table, alongside the remote control for the television, a box of tissues and the large folder with all the hotel’s numbers in it. He’d thought of everything. It was amazingly considerate, actually. It tempered the sharpness brought on by her humiliation, and her voice was calmer as she snuggled down against the large pile of cushions.
‘There. Happy now?’
When she chanced another look at him he had the edges of his dark jacket pushed back and his large hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. He seemed so much larger than she remembered—as if he filled the room. And yet still with those boyishly devastating good looks and that thick head of dark hair, with its upward curls at his nape, and the sharply intelligent eyes that studied her so intensely she felt a need to run and hide…
Half of her silently pleaded with him to go away.
The other half probably wished he’d never left to begin with.
‘I’ll be back later.’
‘You don’t need to. Call in the morning if you like. I’ll sleep.’
The green of his eyes flashed with determination. ‘I’ll be back later.’
The balance of power within Cassidy swayed towards ‘go away’. ‘I won’t open the door Will.’
‘I know.’ He took his hands out of his pockets and backed towards the door, his long legs making the journey in three steps. Then he lifted a hand and casually turned something over between his long fingers like a baton, ‘That’s why I’m keeping your key card.’
Cassidy could have growled at him. But instead she rolled her eyes as she turned away and punched the pillows into shape, hearing the door click quietly shut behind her. After counting to ten, just to be sure, she fought the need to cry. Oh, how much easier it would be if she could hate him…
He was way out of her league now. Way out.
She wanted to go home.
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