Page 10 of One Bed

She had a party to organise, a new series to plan – her rough notes needed to be typed up and she suspected her premise needed a top-to-toe overhaul – and at some point, she grudgingly supposed she needed to think about finding a new agent, one who would understand her need to stay incognito.

Bea desperately wanted to sleep in that big California King alone, to breathe the island air, to calm her nervous system.

He needed to go. And she intended to make that very clear to him.

Hergodmother,hercottage.

ChapterThree

In the exquisitely decorated cottage, she found the five-foot long and two-foot-wide divan –AKA the horsehair seat from hell – squatting opposite two exquisitely decorated chairs. Where was the Art Deco couch? Bea winced. She’d assumed thefuglydivan had been chucked, and not the pretty couch. Dammit. And wasn’t burning it a rather drastic step? Couldn’t Golly have had it fumigated instead?

She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers; her head was pounding. Did she still have any aspirin? She’d emptied a box this morning, did she chuck another in her suitcase before she left? She couldn’t remember.

Bea looked around, taking in the recent changes to the cottage. The walls were now a delicate sage green, and the two chairs a soft grey. The carpet under the wooden coffee table was new, a swirly pattern of greens and warm creams, a nice contrast to the dark slate floors. If she ignored the boil-like divan, vomit-yellow and blergh-brown, it was a pretty, pretty room. Why redecorate so beautifully but leave the divan? Or, at the very least, why didn’t Golly replace the Art Deco couch? The mind boggled.

The kitchen had also been remodelled and the breakfast bar removed. In its place was a warm wooden table with bench seats on either side. Golly had also bought a new pale blue fridge, and the counters had been replaced with white granite.

Despite beating her to the villa by only ten or fifteen minutes, Gib had already made himself at home. His wallet and phone sat on the kitchen counter, and his laptop on the glass and wood coffee table. She suspected his clothes were packed away in the bedroom cupboard, his toiletries on the bathroom shelves.

Well, he could simply pack them all up again. She wasn’t budging on this. Bea frowned, confused by the strength of her feelings. She genuinely didn’t recognise herself; this wasn’t like her. The teeny-tiny part of her that wasn’t shocked by her uncharacteristic bolshiness was doing high kicks and waving pompoms, proud she was standing up for herself.

Bea turned to face him and looked up into his hard-as-nails, inscrutable face. ‘I’ll help you pack your stuff.’

He had the gall to, almost, smile. Well, she presumed it was a smile because the corners of his sexy mouth lifted a fraction. ‘That won’t be necessary because I’m not going anywhere,’ he calmly responded. ‘I like this cottage, I like the location. I had the best time that summer twenty-five years ago and I’ve been looking forward to being here forweeks. But I am very happy to call my assistant and ask her to find you a room on the island. There should be something.’

‘Of course there is, and you can move, not me,’ she retorted. Scrubbing her hands down her face, she plopped down on the arm of one wingback chair. ‘You’re being ridiculously stubborn, Mr Caddell. This is my home, my cottage. I need to be here, while you are just a visitor to the island. There are many places as nice as this.’

He shrugged, unmoved by her argument. ‘As I’ve said a bunch of times now, I paid Golly a considerable amount of money to stay here, we made a deal. I am not going anywhere.’

‘Well, neither am I.’

She lifted her chin, digging in her metaphorical heels. Why now and why with this man? He was big, intimidating and annoyed but instead of trying to please and placate him, her default mode, she was defying him.

‘You’ll have to kill me while I sleep because it’s the only way you’re going to get my body out of this cottage!’

‘There’s no need to be dramatic. I could always just pick you up, toss you out, and lock the door behind you.’

Ha! ‘The patio doors don’t have locks, and neither does the bathroom window,’ she retorted. ‘I’ll be back inside and in that big bed before your head hits the pillow.’

‘Are you that desperate to sleep with me?’

The air between them changed and started to sizzle. Bea knew he didn’t mean his comment to sound sexually charged, but it hung there, tiny bolts of electricity coating every word. She wanted to mock him, tell him that he had an overactive imagination, but the hell of it was that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Naked.

He’d be glorious, and she could easily imagine his big muscles moving under tanned skin. The scratch of his stubble against her breasts, between her legs. Those big hands on her skin, sliding under her butt to lift her hips as he positioned himself between her thighs?—

Shit!Shitshitdamn.

What the hell was she thinking? But, judging by his pained expression and his fuller-than-before package, she wasn’t the only one riding this crazy train.

Gib groaned, sank to sit down on a chair and rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands and head dangling. He released another set of creative curses, something about this being a shitastrophy (she couldn’t argue with him there), and ended his imaginative cursing with a deep, loud sigh.

‘Despite sharing a room when we were kids, we barely connected back then. I’m a stranger to you, so why aren’t you running for the hills?’ he demanded, his voice rougher than before.

She met his eyes. She knew that if she even hinted at her being wary of him, he’d pack up his stuff and leave. It was tempting to use that as an excuse to get her way, to make him leave. But she didn’t want to resort to subterfuge. She felt strong and vital, and was reluctant to taint her burst of bravery by being underhanded.

She wasn’t scared of him, she knew – and don’t ask her how – that he was utterly … what was the word … honourable. Despite the heat in his eyes and the way they kept dropping to her mouth, she was convinced he’d never make an unwelcome advance.

He seemed honest and was very direct. So …clean. No artifice and no hidden meanings and innuendo.

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