Читать книгу Whose Bed Is It Anyway? - Natalie Anderson - Страница 11

THREE

Caitlin turned away, hearing his laughter and the click as the bathroom door closed. He was being deliberately outrageous, trying to make her laugh and put her at a funny kind of ease.

She did feel somewhat better. At least they’d established an arrangement for the next few days. But oh, boy, was he a vastly different guy to the exhausted grouch who’d tried to boot her out of his bed last night. Still gorgeous, yes. Driven, yes. Determined—most definitely. But amusing, teasing, mercurial in his mood...not to mention arrogant. It all added up to appallingly attractive.

Still, Caitlin could resist anything, right? It was peace and quiet she was after really. She only had to get through a couple of nights next to him. Easy peasy.

She wasn’t thinking of being easy.

She pulled her straggly ponytail free and found her comb in her bag. She sat cross-legged on the lower corner of the bed and worked out the knots before twisting her hair into a plait. She’d just finished when he emerged from the bathroom, a white towel around his waist. Once more Caitlin was stunned into silence at the sight of his shoulders, chest, and sheer lean strength. Not bodybuilder bulky, but not skinny. Just right. He winked outrageously at her before walking into the wardrobe and closing the door behind him. A bare minute later he reappeared clad in a fresh grey tee and clean combat pants. She couldn’t help grinning at what was so clearly his uniform. Clean-shaven, dressed, uber-alert, he’d switched on his inner action man.

‘Now for the practicalities,’ he said.

She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘Practicalities?’

‘Food.’ He jerked his head to the side. ‘There’s not even a fridge in this place. We’re going to have to forage.’

That easily he made her smile. ‘In the wilds of New York city?’

‘It’s a challenge.’ He nodded seriously. ‘You up for it?’

Truthfully she’d been going to go with a container of yoghurt. She was on bread and cheese rations for this trip. But she needed to get out of here and inhale some fresh air. Cool the little inferno bubbling inside.

‘Okay.’ She swiftly twisted her plait into a flat bun—and then hid the lot under her black beanie, and grabbed her oversize sunglasses.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, staring at her.

‘Getting ready to go out.’

‘You don’t like the sun?’

‘I don’t like being seen.’

‘You’re used to being recognised?’ His brows lifted again.

‘It’s unlikely here, but you never know.’ There was always someone, and everyone had smartphones. A snap could go round the world in seconds. She’d suffered through that many scathing articles and online comments recently, she didn’t feel safe from them yet—despite being in a whole other country.

‘Why would people recognise you?’

She hesitated. Until a few weeks ago most people wouldn’t have. It was years since she’d been on telly screens. But just over a month ago Dominic and his new girlfriend had set the hounds on her. Not that she was telling James about that mess. ‘I have a famous sister.’

His frown deepened when she didn’t elaborate. ‘Well, if you don’t want to be noticed—’ he plucked the glasses from her nose ‘—you’re going the wrong way about it.’ He tugged the beanie off her head as well and tossed it onto the bed. ‘There are plenty of blondes in this town. Even natural ones like you. No one will notice. But if they see someone so obviously trying to hide, then they’re going to think you’re someone worth snapping.’ He walked into the wardrobe.

‘Photographers linger in this area?’ she called after him. She should have known it. This building filled with huge condos in central Manhattan meant serious wealth—no doubt celebrities were part of the body corporate.

‘Sometimes.’ He reappeared. ‘Wear this.’ He handed her a New York Yankees cap. ‘It’s not winter, you know.’

‘Thanks.’

Fists on hips, he studied her intently as she pulled the cap down more securely. ‘You really don’t like the press?’ he asked.

‘Who does?’

‘Lots of people want to have more than their fifteen minutes,’ he said.

‘They’re welcome to have mine.’ Caitlin walked out of the bedroom.

She’d actually had more than her fifteen minutes years ago, and she didn’t want a second more. Which made the recent events all the more galling. Given she’d been out of the scene for so long, she’d forgotten how to play the game. She’d forgotten how much it hurt. And worse, both the field and her opponents of today were bigger and more vicious than before.

She lost her stomach in the elevator ride down to the lobby. Well, maybe it wasn’t the elevator, maybe it was a weird combo of nerves and excitement and a fragile possibility of happiness. Outside she drew breath and blinked at the mid-morning sunlight. Could she really walk down the street like a free person?

The last few weeks in London she’d been a virtual prisoner, afraid not only of whether there’d be a photographer lurking, but the reaction of the general public. She’d dreaded anyone recognising her. Having been labelled the psycho ex of the ‘hot young actor’ and the woman who’d gone crazy in her attempts to get him back, she’d been on the receiving end of the venom. They said she’d gone stalker when Dominic broke up with her. That she’d used the possibility of a baby to try to get him back. That she’d terminated that pregnancy when he refused to come to heel.

Lies. Vicious, hurtful lies. Every one of them.

And of course those stories were accompanied by all the articles comparing her to her sister—a resurgence of the pieces penned years ago. She was proud of Hannah, pleased for her. But her success came at a cost to Caitlin. The press had polarised them way back when—the ‘good sister’ versus ‘the bad sister’, the ‘talented’ versus the ‘try-hard’, the ‘consummate professional’ versus the ‘demanding diva’. While Hannah didn’t buy into it, didn’t add to the rumour mill, or perpetuate it, their father always had. He still was, with his apparent attempt to ‘reach out’ to Caitlin, his ‘troubled younger daughter’. Through the press of course. As if what had been written were true.

She’d never forgive him for that.

She’d never wanted her life to become like some scripted reality TV show. Didn’t hunger for fame the way her father did or have a passion for being on film like her sister. She’d worked as a child model and actress purely because she’d been told to. Because they’d needed the money. She’d got out of it as soon as she could—as soon as she’d forced them to drop her.

Now she just wanted to be left in peace to do her own thing.

Here, now, in New York, the streets were crowded with people busily going their own way, getting to where they needed to go and not paying attention to anyone else. Moving fast and free. She wanted to be like them.

‘First time in Manhattan?’ James’ amused voice broke into her reverie.

She realised she was standing stock-still, staring at the crowds walking down the sidewalk. She tore her gaze away from the scene and looked up at him, pasting a smile to her lips. ‘It’s that obvious?’

His eyebrows flickered. ‘What’s first on the list?’

‘The list?’ She echoed like an idiot as she looked at him in the midday light. He really was extremely compelling—tall, focused, intriguing.

‘Your “must-see, must-do” itinerary,’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ She turned and fell into step with him. ‘Do you know, I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to figure it out.’ She glanced up and saw his surprised expression. ‘The trip was a last minute thing.’

‘You must have some ideas. No?’ He frowned. ‘Come on, let’s eat and I’ll give you a rundown of the highlights.’

‘The Wolfe Guide?’

‘Something like that.’ He led her a few more paces down the block and then turned, holding the door for her.

A diner like one out of an old Seinfeld episode? She grinned. Okay, she could do that. She was definitely in the Big Apple now.

He slid into a booth. She sank into the seat opposite and toyed with the menu.

‘You ready to order?’ a waitress asked.

Caitlin hesitated.

‘I’ll have blueberry pancakes, please,’ James ordered, then looked at Caitlin and winked. ‘Nothing beats dessert for brunch.’

She faux winced and ordered just a coffee.

‘That’s all you want?’ He frowned as the waitress departed.

‘It takes a while for my appetite to wake up,’ she lied, fiddling with a sugar sachet to avoid looking at him. It wasn’t an outrageously expensive place, but she was going to have to be careful.

‘It should be awake by now,’ he half snorted. ‘It’s after midday—we slept through breakfast and lunch.’

Well, her budget was more a one-meal-a-day deal, but she wasn’t going to tell him all her sad little secrets.

‘So, you must have some kind of list,’ he said, sitting back as the waitress came and poured their coffees. ‘Got to have the usual things...Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Rockefeller Center...’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’ She picked up her cup and blew on the coffee before stealing a quick sip.

An insulted expression crossed his face. ‘Are you not fully excited about being in New York?’

She laughed and set down her cup. ‘I am. Oh, I absolutely am.’ But it hadn’t struck her before that she’d be here seeing it on her own. And that she’d hardly be able to afford a thing. All she’d been thinking about was escaping. She was going to need a second to get her head around it.

And just like that it came—the surge of happiness. She was free. She might even have some fun. She was in Man-freaking-Hattan.

His pancakes arrived and he began decimating the huge tower with a remarkable speed. He glanced up and caught her amused expression.

‘Brothers,’ he explained out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Eat it or lose it.’

‘I’m not going to steal your lunch.’

His eyebrows lowered as he eyed the lonely cup in front of her. ‘Maybe you should.’

‘I’m not a fan of pancakes.’

The look he shot her then was of such pure disbelief she couldn’t help chuckling. Then she went for distraction. ‘So aside from the Statue of Liberty, what do you recommend?’

He munched and thought about it for a bit. ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘What you’re into.’ He speared through three pancakes at once. ‘There’s something for everyone in this city. So what are you into?’

‘I don’t know.’

He paused and met her eyes. ‘You don’t know what you’re into? What you want?’

She felt that wretched heat bloom in her cheeks. Why must she read innuendo into everything the man said? ‘I just want to see some things.’

‘Not do some things?’

Oh, there was innuendo there. ‘Perhaps.’

‘You’re going to need more than coffee if you’re planning on doing things.’

‘Then perhaps today I’ll just stick with seeing.’

He inclined his head with a wry grin. ‘Fair enough.’

She stiffened as he opened his wallet. ‘You’re not paying.’

‘Yeah? Well, I don’t expect you to buy me breakfast.’ He sighed. ‘Though would it be so bad to let me buy you a coffee to make up for my rudeness of last night?’ He looked across at her for a moment, his eyebrows lifting higher as the seconds passed. ‘Clearly it would.’

Caitlin swallowed the last mouthful of her coffee. She was an idiot. Overreacting because she was oversensitive. The events of the last six weeks had made her paranoid. She wasn’t being fair. It was one thing not to trust, but to treat someone rudely? ‘I’m sorry, it was me being rude then. I really appreciate the way you’re helping me out.’

He met her gaze; a low smile spread across his face. An open, nothing-held-back smile that flooded her with warmth. ‘No problem.’

She stood, trying to escape the megawatt impact of that smile. ‘Thanks.’

* * *

Two minutes later James dug his mobile out and switched it on, keeping an eye on his new roommate as she walked off down the street ahead of him.

She’d finally smiled, finally relaxed and accepted the situation. And his apology. Good. Now all he had to do was get out of here as soon as possible. The condo was hers. The sooner he got back on a plane, the better.

With an effort he glanced at his phone. No messages. Most everyone thought he was in the back of beyond and wouldn’t expect to hear from him. Except for his boss. He touched her name in his contacts list. True to all-efficient form she answered on the second ring.

‘I need a project,’ he said as soon as she’d said hello.

‘You’re only just back.’

‘I know. And bored already,’ he lied.

‘Well, I do have something...’ Lisbet trailed off.

Despite his lingering tiredness, his skin prickled. He did like to stay busy. ‘Where?’

‘Here.’

‘Forget it.’ He heard Lisbet’s impatient mumble and hurried on. ‘You know I don’t want a desk job. Can’t think of anything worse.’

‘You have other skills we need. Not all our people can perform the way you do in a public environment. Communication, fundraising is necessary.’

‘I’m not your poster boy—you know this already.’ He watched as Caitlin disappeared into the throng walking downtown. Fleetingly he hoped she’d be okay on her own—that she’d not just ‘see’ but ‘do’.

‘And you know you already are. You could still go on overseas projects,’ said Lisbet. ‘Just fewer.’

Lisbet had been on at him about taking on more of a public role for a while now, but he wasn’t giving up the real work. He preferred to be an anonymous part of a team, not a figurehead. ‘Don’t lessen my load,’ he warned her. ‘I’d have to offer my services elsewhere.’

‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘But I’m not going to stop trying to change your mind.’

‘Try all you like, but keep the field assignments coming.’ He turned back towards the condo.

‘There’s no end to them,’ she snorted. ‘But you need at least a fortnight off.’

A fortnight? He halted in horror, earning a muffled curse from the pedestrian behind him who’d swerved to avoid smacking into him. James waved a vague apology and then frowned at the pavement.

No way could he share a bed with Caitlin for a fortnight. Not without asking for the improper. ‘I don’t need that long,’ he quickly said to Lisbet. ‘I’m ready to ship out again tomorrow.’

‘No. I’m not letting you burn out,’ she answered.

‘Never going to happen.’

‘That’s what they all say, right before they crash,’ she said briskly. ‘Go spend some time with your family. You’ve been overseas for months.’

‘I like being overseas.’ He liked his family too, but he liked being away and busy more.

He heard her sigh. ‘If you insist on doing something, you can come to the charity gala on Thursday night. I’ll put your name down now.’

Oh, hell, that was even worse. ‘Lisbet, I don’t—’

‘It’s only one night,’ she wheedled. ‘You can show me how refreshed you are so I’ll send you back into the fray sooner.’

‘Fine,’ he snapped, letting her manipulate him—mainly because he knew rolling up to the event was part of his duty. He turned his phone off and shoved it into his back pocket.

Two weeks? What was he supposed to do with all that time? He hadn’t had more than a few days off in years and that was the way he liked it. If he stayed in town more, his parents would put the pressure on about other—more personal—things. But they were going to have to save that for his brothers. James would never settle down. He’d seen how tragedy tore a family apart. He wasn’t doing that to anyone else again. Definitely not having a wife or children of his own. He’d work for other people’s families. That was how he got satisfaction and some semblance of peace. So he’d even help his unexpected roommate. His pain in the neck roommate. Pretty roommate. Sassy, sexy roommate...

Two weeks?

He yanked his wayward thoughts to a halt, frowning again. But he couldn’t toss her out. There was a code—written by his own family in fact. You welcomed, opened up, let the weary traveller rest. How many times had he stayed at places where it must have been uncomfortable or awkward for the people who were hosting him? But they never said no. The basic kindness of people never failed to touch him. Yeah, the least he could do was offer the same in return. Kindness without strings. Certainly not sexual strings. He’d ice this edge he had for her. It was only reaction to circumstance anyway. He’d been working back-to-back projects, had hardly seen a woman in any sexual sense—only broken people in need of practical help. The idea of sex hadn’t entered his head in recent weeks. So of course it had roared in on flaming wheels now he was in the clear and confronted with a woman wearing little and already in his bed.

The urge to cut loose sneakily called. He could charm a little, couldn’t he? Not everything in his life needed to be that intense life-and-death stuff. He could coast along with his lovely roommate for a few days until his boss let him out on assignment again. A slight flirt wasn’t going to harm. And the amusement, the thrill he felt when Caitlin hit back? He couldn’t resist stirring that. He couldn’t resist the challenge of making her blush, smile, spark.

He walked back to the condo and spent the rest of the afternoon talking through the refit plans with the design team—tweaking here and there while he had the chance. After they left he glanced at his watch. Where was Caitlin? Hours had passed since she’d left him outside the diner. What tourist stuff had she soaked up? Had she eaten dinner? He waited, in case she hadn’t. The evening progressed. Nine o’clock came and went. So did ten.

Still no Caitlin.

Adrenalin tightened his muscles. Unable to ignore the pleas from his stomach, or the urge to move in some way, James headed out and picked up a pizza. He wandered round the cold, empty floor of his lounge, eating and distracting himself by imagining what it was going to look like once the changes had been made.

The second hand on his watch ticked on. Still she didn’t return. Concern pressed. Had he scared her off? Had she gone to stay somewhere else? Where? But she’d left her small toiletries bag in the bathroom. So did that mean she was lost—or something worse?

Hell. He tossed the uneaten crusts in the pizza box. Why was he so worried? She was grown-up. He wasn’t her damn guardian. He forced himself to take a shower and go to bed. If he didn’t get some sleep he’d look a wreck at the bloody gala and Lisbet would keep him chained to some desk for ever. But he didn’t bother trying to sleep. He tried to read.

In reality, he waited.

* * *

Caitlin crept up the stairs, hyped about her day yet awkward about the upcoming sleep situation. Hopefully James was long asleep already. If so, she wouldn’t wake him, given he slept like the dead. But as she climbed to the top floor she saw light emanating from the room. She swallowed back the surge of adrenalin and walked in.

Oh, where was the mercy? The man was in bed, apparently not wearing anything but the sheet covering his lower half. His bare, bronzed, muscled chest yanked her attention and sizzled her skin. She didn’t know where to look. But she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

‘You had a good day?’ He’d glanced up from the iPad he’d been reading.

‘Amazing.’ She bit her lip, wondering for a second if he’d been searching anything on the web. But his smile was still too warm and, frankly, the guy probably had way better things to do than bother finding out about her. It wasn’t as if he were really interested, right?

‘So you saw?’ he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

‘I saw.’ And man, was she seeing now.

‘And did?’

‘I saw more than did.’ She glanced away, trying to recount her day rather than drool. ‘Times Square, Rockefeller Center—as you said. And tonight I saw a Broadway show, which was so awesome.’ She beamed and looked back at him. ‘That rocked. And now I’m really sore. My feet,’ she explained as his brows lifted. ‘I’ve walked miles.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘So now you need rest.’

‘Yeah.’ That wretched heat beat its way into her cheeks. Somehow she couldn’t think ‘rest’ when he was in bed like that—all big and bare and bold.

‘You’re going to sleep in the travel clothes?’ he asked softly, a way too wicked whisper.