If I Can't Have You by Patti Berg Page A

give her reason never to leave him again.
    oOo
    He hadn’t disappeared. Part of Adriana sighed with relief, part of her was disappointed that he hadn’t gone.
    He walked toward her, cheeks covered in whiskers, eyes red, still as disheveled as he’d been this morning. What had made her think this unkempt and unbalanced stranger could be her dream come to life?
    Well, she’d bought him clothes, toiletries, all the other things he’d need. Once he was cleaned up, she’d send him packing. She’d be rid of him.
    And she wouldn’t have to face his eyes or his smile ever again.
    She reached for the handle, but the intruder was faster.
    “Where have you been?” he asked, pulling open the door.
    It was none of his business, so she ignored him.
    When she swung her legs from the car, he gripped her fingers and pulled her close. “I’ve been worried half out of my mind wondering if something had happened to you.”
    She twisted out of his grasp, hating the warmth of his hands on hers, despising herself for feeling a shock of desi re. “I told you not to touch me. ”
    He threw up his hands as if surrendering to her words, and winked as he backed away. “I’m sorry. Somehow it slipped my mind.”
    “That and everything else. ” In spite of his wink and his irrepressible smile, she refused to let him lighten her mood. “There’s one thing you need to get firmly embedded in your brain. I’m not in the habit of people keeping tabs on me. I said you could stay here for a day or two, but don’t go thinking you can interfere in my life.”
    She grabbed the bags from the passenger seat and when she turned, several bags firmly gathered in front of her, a twinge of embarrassment rushed through her. He stood, hands tucked casually in the pockets of his shrunken trousers, and quite brazenly, studied her body. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn such a short, form-fitting sundress, but it was scorching in L.A. What did it matter, though? Let him stare. In fact, she’d stare right back.
    She studied the pronounced muscles beneath the tight ribbed undershirt he wore, the rich bronze tone of his skin. Slowly she allowed her gaze to inspect his face. The smile. The dimple.
    An infectious grin.
    That was enough!
    She stormed toward the house, upset with herself for letting him get to her, and mumbled under her breath. “The least you could have done was gotten cleaned up while I was gone. You look like a derelict.”
    “I’ve played that role before,” he stated, marching at her side, hands clasped behind his back. “Would you prefer another look? Riverboat gambler? Playboy?” He took a quick step in front of her and stopped, facing her head on. “Perhaps you’d like a swashbuckler? When you were watching Captain Caribe last night I got the distinct impression you liked watching me swing from the yardarm. I could tie ropes from the trees around here and swing for you.”
    A smile teased her lips when she tried to scowl.
    “What do you think?” he asked, when she didn’t comment on his suggestion. “Would you like me better with a patch over my eye? How about...”
    “What I’d prefer is someone who doesn’t reek of booze and salt water.”
    The intruder laughed easily. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.” He nearly swept the ground with his hand as he offered her a courtly bow. His gesture couldn’t have been more effective at easing her tension if he’d had a musketeer’s hat with a feather sticking from its brim.
    Still, she rolled her eyes and tried to walk away, but he zigzagged in front of her, thwarting all her efforts to get to the house.
    He plucked one of the bags from her hands and peeked inside. “For me?” he asked, cocking one dark brow.
    “Obviously. I don’t often wear aftershave, although it doesn’t appear you indulge in such things, either.”
    “I take it that you’d prefer I wear what’s in these bags rather than these trousers that smell like seaweed and brine?” he asked, teasing her