Page 9 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

He gulped. Dived for his T-shirt and flung it over his head, tucking it fiercely into his jeans with sharp thrusts of his hands.

“Hmm,” she said, her lips shaping into a slow smile. “You really do fly solo, don’t you?”

He just stared at her. He was the world’s most complicated book right now, but she didn’t need to know about any of that. Where would he even begin? And then there was the irony of her profession… and his.

Hell, what were the odds of them ever meeting again? Unlikely. Perth was a big enough city for the two of them to rattle around without their paths crossing.

Deliberately, he walked around the side of the bed until he was standing above her. She scooted up the mattress and rested her back against the bedhead, eyeing him warily. He bent down and, knowing he would be a goner if he kissed her mouth, touched his lips gently to the tip of her nose.

As he stepped back, those green eyes flew wide and she blinked as if trying to find words.

“Thank you,” he said quietly into the gap. “You’ll never know quite how much I appreciated tonight.”

As he turned and strode through the French doors, around the veranda and into his own room, Solo could feel her energy snaking after him, though he was unable to make out whether she was angry, surprised, amused or all three. He shoved his feet into his boots, his arms into his jacket, swept all his belongings into his rucksack, grabbed his bike helmet and keys, and exited the room.

Yeah, he knew what he had to do.

He had to ride through the night to forget a certain woman called Polly.

And his demons from back home.

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