Page 27 of Return of the Bad Girl (Rock Canyon, Idaho 4)

“I tried, but the lock is busted. I thought you’d hear the shower and show some respect.”

Damn, she was trying to school him. And the worst of it was, he could picture her all respectable with a suit and glasses, that dark mass of hair in a tight bun as she slapped a ruler against her hand . . .

When had he started having bad-teacher fantasies?

Still, despite her point, he had his own to make. “And you should have asked before turning the place into a fucking tearoom. This place is so female-centric, I feel like I’m living in a sorority. If I bring a woman back here, she’s going to think I’m married.”

Caroline tossed her hair back with a snort. “Like any woman with taste would marry you.”

Well, that hurt a bit. “You can think anything you want, princess, but I’ve never had a problem with women. But the minute they see this place, they’ll head for the door.”

“Oh, you never know. Some women are into married men.”

The implication brought his anger back up to simmering. He had made a lot of bad decisions, but he would never get involved with a woman who would chase a married man. “Well, I’m not into those women.”

She seemed to be considering him seriously for the first time, with her head tilted to the side and her gaze thoughtful. Sighing finally, she asked, “What do you suggest then? A video-game chair and naked women posters all over the walls, held up by thumbtacks?”

The suggestion was exactly what most of his friends had had in their apartments when he’d gotten out of prison, but he wasn’t a horny twenty-three-year-old anymore.

Okay, he wasn’t twenty-three, but apparently he was still horny as hell. His gaze drifted down to the top of the towel, which gave him a tiny glimpse of the valley between her breasts. She was so damn sexy, and he had been an idiot to think he could resist her when she was going to be right here, under his nose. Within reach.

Unable to resist, he reached up and brushed a strand of wet hair off her shoulder, trailing his fingers over the coolness of her skin. “I’m way classier than that. The posters would be framed.”

CAROLINE WOULD HAVE jerked back if his gesture hadn’t been so fast. Before she could do much more than catch her breath, his hand was gone.

No, she wasn’t going to smile at his joke. He wasn’t charming or funny. He was rude and condescending and—

“You’re right. I should have asked your opinion, since we both have to live here.”

Wait . . . What? Did you just apologize to him?

His dark, pierced eyebrow lifted, as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Somehow, I didn’t expect that from you.”

“You don’t know me, so quit acting like you do,” she snapped.

He crossed his arms and had the audacity to look casual. “I don’t have to know you personally. I can read people pretty well.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, mimicking his stance. “Please, tell me exactly what you think you know.”

He moved closer, and her heart quickened

as she smelled his cologne; light and male, it didn’t overwhelm like some. Her nipples hardened against the roughness of the towel, and she hated that he could do this without touching her. He was wrong for her. Trouble. She could read people too, and this guy probably had bad news tattooed on his ass.

“I’d say you have issues with authority and men in general. You like to be in control, and you do not like to be told when you’re wrong. You have never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, and not one of those guys ever knew you, not really,” he said, his tone dropping to a harsh whisper. “How close am I, princess?”

Too close for comfort; that was for damn sure. She squeezed past him, her body brushing against his as she scoffed, “Whatever.”

But before she made it to the door, he reached out and took her arm gently. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

His hand was hot against her chilled skin, and she imagined the rest of him was just as heated. The image of them pressed together, his hands leaving trails of fire across her skin, reminded her it had been a while since she’d pulled out her battery-operated buddy for a little alone time. She was going to have to schedule that in some time soon.

For now, she needed to get away from Gabe’s dark, penetrating eyes before she forgot herself and took him for a test drive . . . an idea that spelled all kinds of bad.

“I’m saying that you probably shouldn’t start offering psychic readings,” she said, pulling her arm out of his grip and stalking to her room.

As she closed the door, she heard him laugh, and it made her stomach flip over. The last thing she wanted or needed was to feel anything for the man she was sharing a two-bedroom apartment with. Which meant avoiding situations that put them in close proximity and nearly buck naked.

First thing Monday morning, she needed to fix the lock on the bathroom door.

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