Page 21 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

I couldn’t say that, because Ididthink that was what she’d said. “I think it could have been a wrong number, or a crank call—either that or Jason’s nitwit wife has gone off the deep end again and is working herself up for another shot at me.”

Okay, so it isn’t that easy to get over paranoia.

“If you think you can get a deadline extension out of this, forget about it,” he said, his eyes going even more narrow.

I scowled up at him, ticked off. I’d been genuinely alarmed, and even though I could now see the probability that there was nothing to the call, not once had I thought about using any of this to get a deadline extension. He’d issued achallengewith his damned deadline; no way would I wimp out now. I’d make that wedding happen if I had to be pushed to the altar in a wheelchair, trailing bandages like some mummy out of a horror movie.

“Have Iaskedfor an extension?” I snapped, pulling out of his arms a little too forcefully, which made my head throb.

“You’ve complained about the deadline plenty.”

“Which is not the same thing! This wedding will happen even if it nearly kills me.” And all the trouble and bad stuff would be held over his head for the foreseeable future. See how this works? Why would I give up an advantage like that, just because of a concussion and some scrapes? Not that he’d care about all the bad stuff being held over his head, because he’s contrary that way, but he’d still have to deal with it whenever we had an argument.

I poked him in the chest. “The only way we won’t get married in four weeks—”

“Three weeks and six days.”

I glared at him. Damn him, he was right. “Four weeks” sounded much longer than “three weeks and six days” even though there was only one day’s difference between the two. Time was ticking away from me. “Is if you don’t getyourstuff accomplished.”

“My stu—” he started to ask, then memory surfaced. The flowers. “Shit.”

“You forgot? Youforgotthe flowers for ourwedding?” My voice started to rise. Can I play a situation, or what? If he stopped to think for a minute he’d realize no way would I leave something that important to any man who wasn’t gay, but so far he hadn’t had that minute. A little payback is a good thing.

“Calm down,” he said testily, walking past me into the kitchen to get a drink of water. I suppose loading and unloading an arbor can be thirsty work, even though the cool snap had persisted. “It’ll get done.”

I followed him. “I’m calm. I’m pissed, but I’m calm. Calmly pissed. How’s that?” I was getting a little testy, too. The last couple of days had been stressful. The proof of that was that we seemed to be getting into an argument, a real argument.

He slugged back a glass of water, then set the glass down with a definite clink. “Is it time for your period, or something?”

With unerring instinct, he’d found a great big red button, and pushed it. Wyatt fights to win, which means he fights dirty. I understand the concept because that’s how I fight, too, but understanding it didn’t stop me from reacting. I could practically feel my blood bubbling with steam.“What?”

He turned around, all controlled aggression, and damned if he didn’t push the button again. “What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?”

I paused for a moment, struggling against the urge to leap on him and tear him limb from limb. For one thing, I love him. Even when he’s being an asshole, I love him. For another, any attempt to leap and tear right now would hurt me way worse than I could possibly hurt him. It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, “It isn’t that we’re bitchier, it’s that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all thebullshitwenormally SUFFER IN SILENCE.” By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out.

Wyatt took a step back, belatedly looking alarmed.

I took a step forward, my chin lowering as my eyes narrowed, watching him like a starving puma watches a wounded rabbit. “Furthermore, that’s the kind of question that makes a normally sweet-tempered woman anticipate, with great pleasure, standing over a man’s bloody…mutilated…dismemberedbody.” It’s really, really impossible to sound sweet when your teeth are clenched.

He took another step back, and his right hand actually went to his hip, though of course his weapon was upstairs on the bedside table. “It’s against the law to threaten an officer of the law,” he warned.

I paused, considered that, then gave a dismissive flip of my hand. “Some things,” I growled, “are just worth eternal damnation.”

Then, with Herculean effort, I turned around and left the kitchen, went back upstairs, and lay down on the bed. My head was throbbing, maybe because my blood pressure had shot up during the last couple of minutes.

He followed a couple of minutes later, lying down beside me and easing me into his arms so my head was pillowed on his shoulder. I settled against him with a sigh, the tension in me melting as I was surrounded by his heat and the hard solidity of his body. The scent of crisp air, the hint of approaching winter, still clung to his clothing and I buried my nose against him, sniffing in appreciation.

“Are you crying?” he asked suspiciously.

“Of course not. I’m smelling your clothes.”

“Why? They’re clean.” He raised his arm, the one I wasn’t lying on, and sniffed himself. “I don’t smell anything.”

“They smell like winter, like cold air.” I snuggled closer. “Makes me want to cuddle.”

“In that case, I’ll hang all my clothes outside.” His mouth curved as he turned on his side to face me, his hand going to my butt and urging my hips closer to his. Sure enough, a full erection prodded at me. Some things are as reliable as Old Faithful.

I love having sex with him. I wanted to have sex with him right then. And knowing that we couldn’t, that the headache would be too severe for me to enjoy it if we tried, was in a way its own turn-on. Forbidden fruit, and all that. We couldn’t make up after our argument the way we usually made up, which made the making out even more delicious.

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