Merry and Bright(33)

He didn’t move.

She swiped her arm over her forehead. Yeah, it was getting hot in here. With one arm still holding the blow-dryer in place on the frozen pipe, she pulled off her scarf and hat, trying not to picture what her hair must look like.

His face appeared next to hers as he, without regard for those expensive clothes and the dirty floor, stretched out on his back at her side and peered at the pipe, an icon of grace and physical power.

“You’re making progress,” he said. “You have another blow-dryer?”

He was polished, where she was not. He was smooth and knew what to do in any social situation, where she most definitely did not. He was her mortal enemy.

So she had no idea why she looked at his mouth and felt an odd pang of excitement. She’d simply gone too long without a man’s touch; that was what was causing this ridiculous and untimely sense of loneliness that was clearly making her lose her mind.

“Hope?”

She was still looking at his mouth. It was a really nice mouth. Probably all the better to pull his prey into his web.

He caught her staring at him and skimmed his hand up her arm. “You okay?”

Was she? His fingers were warm and sure, and his body was lying so close to hers that she could almost taste the testosterone coming off him. Tiny prickles of desire raced up her spine to the back of her neck.

Huh.

“Hope? You with me?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

He stared down at her hand as he slowly traced her skin. “Blow-dryer?” he murmured.

Right. “Upstairs. Second bathroom beneath the sink.”

She didn’t have a spare blow-dryer upstairs in the second bathroom beneath the sink, but it would get him out of her hair, because clearly his closeness was killing off her brain cells one by one.

When he left, she let out a long, careful breath. Whew. How in the hell she’d managed to both hate him and lust after him at the same time, she had not a single clue....





3


A lone in the cellar, Hope felt the vibration of Danny’s footsteps going up the two flights of stairs. Since she was sweating, she pulled off her jacket and sweatpants and went back to blow-drying the frozen pipes. When she heard Danny coming back down, she yelled, “Don’t let the cellar door shut!” just as he did exactly that.

Shit! She sat straight up and bashed her head on the now semi-frozen pipe. Stars exploded behind her eyeballs. Damn, shit, f*ck. Rolling to her hands and knees, she crawled out from beneath the pipe, but before she could get to her feet, Danny was there on his knees, pulling her up against him.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“No, I’m not. You locked us in here, Genius Boy.” She sucked in a breath and pressed her hands to her forehead. “And you nearly killed me.”

“Didn’t have to.” He pulled her hands down and put his face within an inch of hers as he studied her forehead. “You almost did it on your own.” He probed the spot, making her hiss in a breath. “Miraculously, you’re going to live. You know your name? Mine? Where you are?”

“Hope O’Brien, Idiot, in my damn cellar.”

His lips twitched. “I thought I was Genius Boy. You didn’t break the skin, but you have a good-size lump. You need ice.”

“Ouch,” she breathed when he kept touching it.

“Aw.” Lips still slightly curved, he leaned down and pressed them to her forehead.

She jerked back in shock. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing it all better.” His eyes were hot silk and sweetness, one hell of an intoxicating combination, quite lethal to her resistance effort. “Did it work?”

Well, her forehead was tingling now instead of aching. And in fact, her entire body was tingling. Good Lord.

“Did it, Hope?”

Yes. “No!”

His slight smile told her he read the lie quite easily.

“We’re locked in,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let’s worry about that.”

“Are you sure?” He craned his neck to look up at the door. “Maybe—”

“Locked. In.”

“Okay. So we have lots of time for you to tell me why you sent me on a wild goose chase.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Because he had taken her face in his hands and was staring into her eyes. “Stop that.” She tried to pull back. “I’m fine. So don’t even think about kissing me again.” Because she was thinking about it enough for the two of them.

“Damn, you foiled my evil plan.” But for all his joking, there was concern in his eyes and his voice, and there was something in her that reacted to that, something she didn’t trust. She didn’t need worry or concern, she took care of herself. Always had. “You should know, I’m only attracted to the bad boys. You don’t come even close.”

“I knew I should have worn my leather pants.”

She heard the laugh huff out of her and shook her head at herself. Not going to be charmed by him . . . Still way too hot, she yanked off her sweatshirt and tossed it aside. She got to her feet and stalked the length of the cellar. When she whirled back, she stumbled to a halt.

Genius Boy had pulled off his sweater as well, unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, and shoved up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing forearms that weren’t scrawny but looked surprisingly strong. “What are you doing now?”