Page 45 of Here Comes Trouble
They weren’t.
He didn’t even acknowledge her and continued to swipe at the canvas, lost in his secret little world. The rejection stung. Was she really going to let him get away with ignoring her like that?
No. She certainly wasn’t.
Picking up a paintbrush from the table, she dipped it in a discarded palette of rich, purple paint. It was gloopy enough to hang onto the brush for a second or two before dripping back down into the pool of shiny, slick liquid. Turning back to him, she raised the brush to ear level, then brought it forward quickly, flicking the paint towards him. It landed with a splatter against his golden skin, a line of dots making their unsubtle way from his shoulder blade to his hip.
He swivelled round and looked at her, startled. ‘What the hell?’ he said, raising a challenging eyebrow.
She grinned. ‘I thought I’d paint you for a change. You look good in purple, but then you look good in everything.’
He huffed out a laugh, before turning back to his easel.
Outraged at his snubbing, she moved round so she was standing facing him, just behind the easel. She flicked another splodge of paint, which caught him on his chest this time, right above his nipple.
His eyebrows shot up as he lifted his head slowly to look at her again. ‘Are you sure you want to start a paint fight with me, Miss Prim? How will you ever cope with your perfectly clean and pressed clothes getting messed up?’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she teased, delighted she’d been able to capture his attention.
‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Jess. Don’t think I won’t retaliate. I have a whole palette of colours here with your name on it. Just try it, one more time.’
She gave him a slow, taunting smile, her blood pumping fast through her veins as an urge to see exactly what he had planned caught her by the throat.
Her hand quivered by her side.
She really should put the paintbrush down and go for a walk or something to relieve this crazy impulse to keep pushing him. It was madness, this whole thing.
He was watching her, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Anticipating her next move.
Did she dare?
Yes, she bloody well did.
Turning back to the table, she loaded up the brush with paint again, then twisted back, holding it aloft.
‘Jeeess.’ Xander’s voice was low with warning, but she caught the lilt of amusement.
The look in his eye made her insides flip, but some craziness compelled her to bring back her hand and let the paint fly through the air in his direction.
This time he dodged it, and it sailed past him, splattering the floor behind where he’d stood.
With a predatory grin, he advanced towards her, loaded paintbrush held aloft.
Adrenaline-fuelled blood pumped through her as her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. In her real life she’d be putting her hand up to stop this right now, to save her clothes as well as her pride, but this time she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted to experience the heady rush of excitement as she let whatever might happen, happen. She ached to feel his hands on her, his body pressed close to hers again, their skin slippery and messy with paint.
Where had this wild abandon come from? She hardly recognised herself.
He was almost upon her now, his bright aqua gaze trained on her face.
‘N-no, no, Xander, w-wait,’ she stuttered, feigning fright.
‘What’s the matter, Jess, can’t stand to get down and dirty with me?’
She took the opportunity in his pause to tease her to sneak in another crafty flick of her brush, sending the paint higher this time so it landed squarely across his nose and cheeks.
He stared at her in utter disbelief for a nano-second, before letting out a low growl and flicking his own brush at her over and over again, covering her T-shirt, her jeans and her hair in bright magenta paint.
Tipping back his head, he laughed at the mock-horror on her face. ‘You look good in hot pink, Jess. You should wear it more often.’ He took a step towards her and her stomach did a slow roll with excitement. ‘But I have to say, I think you’d look a lot better injustthe paint.’
