nice,” he teased. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You could stand on any street corner around and make a fortune.”
She groaned. “Shut up, please.” She handed the cup to Bryan, drew a deep breath for courage, and bent to look again. She had enough eyeliner for Bozo the clown. Her cheeks looked like someone had slapped her. Hard.
And her mouth. With the crimson lipstick, which had smeared during her sleep, her lips looked too full, her mouth too wide.
“Here you go.”
The coffee wasn’t helping, Shay decided, after swilling another cup. She peeked at Bryan, knew he was waiting for her reaction to her appearance, and decided a thorough scrubbing was the order of the day.
“Delicious coffee. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She leaned into the sink bowl, turned on the water and started splashing. Behind her, Bryan laughed out loud.
“Get me something,” she demanded, “a washcloth or a paper towel or whatever.”
“Given that paint job, you could probably use a mop.” He wasn’t gone long. “Here you go.”
Half of Shay’s hair was wet with the furious way she splashed. Blindly, she reached out, bumping Bryan’s abdomen and chest before finding and snatching the hand towel from him. She stuck it under the water and scrubbed hard.
“Easy,” Bryan told her. “You’re going to take off a layer of skin.”
“You’re a wicked, wicked man for not saying something sooner.”
He carefully gathered her hair together and held it back from her face. Shay could feel his warmth, smell his scent. “You couldn’t move, Shay, so what could you have done about it?”
“I could’ve just died and got it over with.”
“Now what a shame that would’ve been.”
Her splashing stopped. It seemed she wasn’t even breathing.
Damn it, he hadn’t meant to say that, to egg her on or encourage her in her infatuation. But watching her furious efforts to remove the war paint amused him.
Seeing her rounded backside jutting out turned him on.
And the damn dream had his emotions all churning, way too close to the surface.
Finding her safe, drunk, and the brunt of a joke had given him so much relief, he wanted to fold her in close to his chest and promise to protect her so he never had to worry again.
Idiotic.
She didn’t need his damn protection. Like cats, women had a knack for landing on their feet, no matter what. He should have learned that lesson by now. Not since his wife had he indulged his inflated noble streak by trying to protect a woman. And look where that had gotten him. Megan, who had been young and naive, had screwed him over in the worst possible way. If she could manage that type of deception, what was someone like Shay capable of?
So maybe she wasn’t a whore, but she still had deep secrets, and secrets were always a dangerous thing.
Very slowly, her face dripping, Shay straightened and turned to him. Her lips were open, her breathing harsh. Bryan knew he should resist temptation, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. In fact, the only things moving were his pounding heart, his laboring lungs, and his cock—which strained with interest.
They stared at each other.
The night’s debauchery had left her eyes bloodshot and some of the smeared makeup remained. The hair around her face was sodden. She looked hungover—and still he wanted her so much that he shook with it.
“I have to leave for a little while today.”
That brought him out of his sensual reverie and nudged his worry right back to the surface. “Leave where?”
Shay lifted one shoulder, and avoided his gaze by looking at his throat. “I just have a few things to do. I won’t be gone long.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What things, Shay?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him that she wanted to check on Leigh, talk to her realtor, arrange to have new clothes dropped off, that she…had so many things she was dying to accomplish, things that would help him, the shelter, and the women. “It’s
She groaned. “Shut up, please.” She handed the cup to Bryan, drew a deep breath for courage, and bent to look again. She had enough eyeliner for Bozo the clown. Her cheeks looked like someone had slapped her. Hard.
And her mouth. With the crimson lipstick, which had smeared during her sleep, her lips looked too full, her mouth too wide.
“Here you go.”
The coffee wasn’t helping, Shay decided, after swilling another cup. She peeked at Bryan, knew he was waiting for her reaction to her appearance, and decided a thorough scrubbing was the order of the day.
“Delicious coffee. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She leaned into the sink bowl, turned on the water and started splashing. Behind her, Bryan laughed out loud.
“Get me something,” she demanded, “a washcloth or a paper towel or whatever.”
“Given that paint job, you could probably use a mop.” He wasn’t gone long. “Here you go.”
Half of Shay’s hair was wet with the furious way she splashed. Blindly, she reached out, bumping Bryan’s abdomen and chest before finding and snatching the hand towel from him. She stuck it under the water and scrubbed hard.
“Easy,” Bryan told her. “You’re going to take off a layer of skin.”
“You’re a wicked, wicked man for not saying something sooner.”
He carefully gathered her hair together and held it back from her face. Shay could feel his warmth, smell his scent. “You couldn’t move, Shay, so what could you have done about it?”
“I could’ve just died and got it over with.”
“Now what a shame that would’ve been.”
Her splashing stopped. It seemed she wasn’t even breathing.
Damn it, he hadn’t meant to say that, to egg her on or encourage her in her infatuation. But watching her furious efforts to remove the war paint amused him.
Seeing her rounded backside jutting out turned him on.
And the damn dream had his emotions all churning, way too close to the surface.
Finding her safe, drunk, and the brunt of a joke had given him so much relief, he wanted to fold her in close to his chest and promise to protect her so he never had to worry again.
Idiotic.
She didn’t need his damn protection. Like cats, women had a knack for landing on their feet, no matter what. He should have learned that lesson by now. Not since his wife had he indulged his inflated noble streak by trying to protect a woman. And look where that had gotten him. Megan, who had been young and naive, had screwed him over in the worst possible way. If she could manage that type of deception, what was someone like Shay capable of?
So maybe she wasn’t a whore, but she still had deep secrets, and secrets were always a dangerous thing.
Very slowly, her face dripping, Shay straightened and turned to him. Her lips were open, her breathing harsh. Bryan knew he should resist temptation, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. In fact, the only things moving were his pounding heart, his laboring lungs, and his cock—which strained with interest.
They stared at each other.
The night’s debauchery had left her eyes bloodshot and some of the smeared makeup remained. The hair around her face was sodden. She looked hungover—and still he wanted her so much that he shook with it.
“I have to leave for a little while today.”
That brought him out of his sensual reverie and nudged his worry right back to the surface. “Leave where?”
Shay lifted one shoulder, and avoided his gaze by looking at his throat. “I just have a few things to do. I won’t be gone long.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What things, Shay?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him that she wanted to check on Leigh, talk to her realtor, arrange to have new clothes dropped off, that she…had so many things she was dying to accomplish, things that would help him, the shelter, and the women. “It’s
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