Page 4 of Unintentionally Yours

A woman. A naked woman, to be precise—all lush curves and porcelain skin glistening with moisture as she stood under the spray of his showerhead. Her dark hair hung in damp tendrils around her heart-shaped face, brown eyes wide with a mix of shock and chagrin. If he was a gentleman, he’d hand her a towel. But no one had ever accused him of being a gentleman.

“Would you believe I’m a figment of your imagination?” the woman asked, a telltale flush staining the tops of the luscious breasts she was trying so hard to conceal. He wouldn’t be the one to tell her she’d failed.

“Darlin’, I assure you, if I were going to hallucinate a woman in my shower, she’d be a lot less chatty.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as if taking his measure. “Wow. Rude much? Here I thought you might be my soulmate, what with your excellent taste in potato chips and all.”

Finn glanced at the can of sour cream and onion chips sitting on the vanity, a single brow arching toward his hairline. He walked over and picked it up, shaking it. Half empty. Go figure.

“I do have excellent taste in snack foods,” Finn agreed amiably. “What I don’t have is a penchant for strange women in wedding dresses…,” he held up the stained garment, “barging into my cabin uninvited.”

Layla sighed, momentarily letting her arms drop in apparent surrender...only to squeak and cross them back over her chest when the big man’s gaze roamed over her once again.

“Would you believe I took a wrong turn on my way to the reception?”

Finn bit back a smile despite himself. Scared and sassy. Quite a unique combination. He had a feeling the woman in his shower was equally exceptional. He gave himself a swift mental kick. Now was not the time for his libido to wake up and take an interest.

“Not likely, Goldi. Last I checked, the Ritz-Carlton hadn’t opened a branch in my backyard.”

“Pity,” she said with a tremulous attempt at a smile, “I could really go for a mint on my pillow tonight.”

His thoughts immediately flashed to the night ahead. Her. In his bed.

Eating a mint wasn’t the image that took root in his mind.

“I know how this must look,” she began, worrying at her plump bottom lip with her teeth again, a habit that was strangely endearing, “but I swear I didn’t mean to intrude. I just...I needed a place to regroup. To hide out for a bit until I can figure out what I’m going to do.”

Finn studied her for a long moment, taking in the exhaustion bruising the delicate skin beneath her eyes, the minute tremors wracking her frame. She looked like a spooked deer ready to bolt at any second. Which made every bit of his alpha maleness roar to life. To protect. To defend. To do exactly what he had done for most of his life. But, he realized sharply, there was another layer to those instincts now.

To possess. To dominate. To take.

His body hardened at the images those thoughts evoked.

“Tell me your name. Or should I just keep calling you…Goldilocks?” His voice emerged as guttural and unrecognizable as his hungry gaze raked once more across every inch of her curvy form. She might be a mystery, this disheveled runaway who had turned up on his doorstep like magic, but she was also clearly in trouble. And if there was one thing Finn Brody couldn’t resist, it was a damsel in distress.

He probably should send her on her way. It’s what any sane, rational person would do in this situation. Finn was neither of those things. Hadn’t been for a very long time.

The woman blinked at him, suspicion warring with cautious hope on her expressive face. “You’re not going to call the cops on me?”

His brows lifted. “And tell them what? That I found Goldilocks in my shower, eating me out of house and home?” Finn shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Nah. I’ll hear you out first, then decide if the authorities need to be involved.”

She swallowed audibly, fingers flexing around her upper arms. “I... Thank you. That’s very decent of you, Mr...?”

“Brody. Finn Brody.”

“Finn,” she repeated as if testing the weight of it on her tongue. “I’m Layla. Layla Bryant.”

“Layla. Unusual name. Pretty. It suits you.”

She flushed at the compliment. “It was my grandmother’s name. She was…unique.”

“Then I think you inherited more than her name.” He straightened. “Now, I’ll leave you to finish your shower. Alone. Unless, of course, you’d like me to join you.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m done. Now, if you could just hand me a towel…”

Finn smirked. “What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Afraid you might like it?”

Arrogant bastard, Layla thought, even though she was in the wrong, stealing into his house. Two could play at that game.

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