Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(41)

He twisted around, puzzled. "My what?"

"The part in your hair," she explained. "It changes the cut."

"Jesus, this is complicated. It's wherever it happens to be at any given moment that I yank my hair back. I never really noticed."

"Oh, you are hopeless," she snapped.

She trimmed his hair with slow, methodical precision. She drew it out as long as she could, so she could linger close to him, but she finally had to straighten up and run her hands through his hair. "All done," she said. "Now for a blow-dry, and you're all set."

He recoiled. "Like hell. That's where I draw the line."

She brandished her blow dryer. "But Connor, it's just a—"

"Get that thing away from me before you electrocute us both!"

"You are such a baby." She gathered up the cut ends, dropped them in the trash basket, and hurried from the bathroom. She shoved her sticky, hair-covered bottles into her toiletries case with none of her usual anxious neatness. She was so angry at herself. All those openings, and she had just let them go by, one after the other. Idiot. Coward.

"Erin."

She turned. He leaned in the bathroom doorway, still naked to the waist. The slicked back hair accentuated the stark, chiseled beauty of his face. She sank down onto the bed. "What?" she quavered.

"This was really nice of you. Really sweet. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she whispered.

Sweet. He thought she was sweet. And nice. There it was, like an evil enchantment. She tried to swallow it, but it wouldn't go down.

People had called her that all her life. Ever since she'd been an unnaturally well-behaved little girl who tried to be perfect, and make the world harmonious for Mommy and Daddy. Since they couldn't be harmonious on their own and needed all the help they could get.

Sweet and nice. Respectful and polite and studious. Straight As, honor society, squeaky clean, pure as the goddamn driven snow.

She couldn't endure it any longer.

"Uh… Erin? Did I say something wrong?"

She looked up at him wildly. "No, of course not! I, uh, need the bathroom for a while, if you don't mind."

He nodded. The smile he gave her was so sexy, her toes curled up. She snatched her toiletries case and her nightgown, and hustled into the bathroom while she still had partial control of her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut beneath the pounding spray of the shower. She was going to have to do something dramatic to break this awful spell. Worst case scenario, he would just laugh at her.

No. Connor was brusque and hard-edged, but he wasn't cruel. If he didn't want her, it would be so painful for him to have to reject her. But it wouldn't kill them. They would both live through it.

She turned off the shower. Then again, maybe it would kill her. But even the prospect of death by embarrassment was no excuse for cowardice. She toweled off, and put on her nightgown and panties. She put her hand on the doorknob—and stopped.

She'd bought the nightgown because it was like something out of a Regency romance, gauzy and lace-trimmed and romantic. But it was so virginal. Nowhere near sexy enough to make the statement she needed to make. Neither were her white cotton bra and panties. If she wanted to go past the point of no return, she had to be bold. Once she stepped out that door, she was going to be as mute as a statue anyway. If there was a message to be sent, it had better be a nonverbal one.

She pulled off the nightgown and hung it on the hook. Peeled off the panties, folded them and refolded them. Her cold fingers were clutching the door handle when she remembered her hair. She pulled the bun loose, let it tumble around her shoulders.

She stared into the mirror. Naked, with her hair down, she might almost pass for sexy. Too bad she'd left the makeup case out on the bed. No help from that quarter. She would have to do this au naturel.

A better chance to seduce him would never come her way. And she might not be talented, but oh, was she ever motivated. She tried to take a deep, bracing breath, but no air would go into her lungs.

She pushed the door open and walked into the room.



* * *





Chapter Eight





Connor turned at the sound of the door.

His shocked silence made her feel both terribly alone and terribly exposed, as if she stood naked on a stage in front of a murmuring crowd, and Connor's burning gaze were a spotlight. The silence went on and on. He opened his mouth. Closed it. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Holy shit," he said hoarsely. "What the hell are you doing?"

Her lips started trembling, then her whole jaw. "I don't know," she whispered. She had no idea what she was doing. But whatever it was, it was obviously the wrong thing.

Well, here it was. Worse case scenario. Times like these were a girl's opportunity to show her true quality. "I'll just, urn, put my clothes back on," she mumbled. "Excuse me."

Her eyes filled up as she turned. She launched herself in what she sincerely hoped was the direction of the bathroom door.

He grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and shoved her hard against the wall. "Not so fast. Wait a goddamn minute."

His furious face was inches from hers. His naked chest grazed her nipples. She opened her mouth, but nothing intelligible came out. "I—"