But with incredible strength and fortitude, she managed to flounce out of the room with only two backward glances at his magnificence.
Perhaps sleeping in an alley with a cardboard box would have been the better option after all.
Fending off drunken sex maniacs might have been safer than trying to live with Evan Dorsett.
Total and utter misery.
There was no other way to describe her night.
Josie pulled her pillow over her head and tried to convince herself she was fourteen again, living at home, her biggest problem being that one of her brothers had finished off the milk so she wouldn't be able to have cereal for breakfast. She scrunched her eyes and concentrated, until she could almost smell the bacon her mom was frying up. One of her older sisters was shrieking about no hot water, and the dog had just eaten all the lunches her mom had set out on the counter. Pandemonium. Crises galore. Heaven.
Then it faded into reality.
Great. Another delusion. She wasn't fourteen again. She was twenty-seven. Divorced. Emotionally damaged. Broke. Waffleless. Stuck across the hall from the first man who had truly made her feel like a woman. Grr.
After wallowing in self-pity for a few more minutes, Josie decided it was enough. Her life would never change if she let herself become part of the mattress. And it really wasn't that comfortable of a mattress.
She yanked the pillow off her face and hurled it across the room so she'd have to go retrieve it if she lost her motivation and decided to hide under it again.
But she couldn't quite manage to get her eyes open.
Be positive. List three good things in her life.
One: her cat hadn't killed her yet.
Two: she was divorced.
Three: she had discovered her sexuality. Except she couldn't touch him.
She ground her palms into her eyelids.
Let's think about this. Why couldn't she touch him? It wasn't as if she had any obligations to Buddy. Granted, she wasn't getting in any relationships, thanks to her miserable judgment when it came to men, but what about an affair?
Small problem: she had started to let herself think of him as a decent human being last night. But if she could refrain from doing that, then maybe, just maybe, he could become the key to her sexual liberation. To have the ability to relish in her body, yet not make herself vulnerable...that's what being a woman was all about!
A thrill of excitement whirred through her. Could she do it? Maybe, maybe not...but it was definitely worth getting out of bed to find out.
This time her eyes opened quite willingly, and she sat up in bed, only to have all her excitement kerplop right out of her body, replaced by nausea.
Not just any nausea. The kind brought on by the unexpected shock of something truly horrible.
Like having her poster of Buddy framed and hung up on the wall across from her bed.
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. But when she opened them, he was still there.
Disgusting. Some sick joke? Had her ex-husband found her and decided to engage in psychological warfare to get her to relinquish the CD collection she'd won in the divorce?
Then she narrowed her eyes as another framed photo on the nightstand caught her eye. An eight by ten of Buddy graduating from high school. Behind that, a five by seven of Buddy at what looked like a prom, with some girl with big hair and too much makeup.
Evan.
Anger began to simmer inside her, bubbling and popping. How dare he march into her room and erect a Buddy Shrine? A total violation of basic human decency standard. And of her privacy.
Whoa. Her privacy. He'd been in here while she was asleep. She looked down at her old, torn tee shirt. Great. No doubt, he'd been overwhelmed by her beauty.
Okay. This was war.
Which was fine.
It was a good test of her strength and fortitude.
Josie kicked off the covers and swung her feet to the floor.
First, secure the battlefield. She grabbed all the photos of Buddy, which included three more she found in the bathroom, dumped them in her pillowcase and tossed it out in the hall for a trip to the garbage can later.
Next...She marched back into her room, lifted down the giant frame, set it on her bed and removed the poster. It simply wouldn't suffice just to put the monster in the garage. Some kinds of evil simply had to be killed before it would be completely eradicated. And certain kinds of death deserved a carefully chosen audience.
She smashed the poster under her arm, yanked open her door and thudded her fist against Evan's bedroom door. "Open up!"
Nothing.
He couldn't already be up, could he? Skulking away to hide from the effects of his actions?
She banged again. "Evan!"
Still silence.
"Fine." Before she had time to talk herself out of taking control of her life, she barged into his room.
Chapter 12
As she suspected. No Evan. The wimp had fled the scene of the crime.
The sheets where sprawled across the bed, as if a night of raucous lovemaking had torn them asunder. Yeah, in her dreams. Literally. No, Josie. Focus. She'd just tear the poster up into smithereens and stuff all the remnants under his sheets so he could find them when he went to bed tonight.
She walked over to the bed, then stopped.
The shower was running.
Evan was in the shower.
Most likely, completely naked.
Ahem. Feeling a little warm in here now.
She could follow her original plan, and leave the torn-up poster on his bed as a statement of war.
Or she could remember her thoughts this morning about the possibility of having a sexual adventure with him and march into that bathroom to confront him. It would be good timing, since she was so angry with him there was absolutely no chance of her actually liking him or wanting a relationship.
Hmm...
She opted for the bathroom.
Josie kicked open the door and stalked inside. Hello. Evan's shower door was glass.
Clear glass.
The kind she could see right through.
And he hadn't been in there quite long enough to build up an appropriate supply of steam.
Deep breaths, Josie.
Evan hadn't even noticed her, his eyes closed as he scrubbed his hair. Soap dripped over his body in slow caresses, showing the topography of his sculpted temple. Over his shoulders, down his chest, across his belly...
She tripped on the carpet, crashed into the sink, smacked her elbow on the toilet, and landed in an undignified heap on the floor.
So much for the sneak attack.
Resisting the urge to massage the throbbing pain in her scalp to see if blood was gushing forth, she rolled onto her hip and glanced at the shower.
Evan was staring at her, a very amused expression on his face and a towel wrapped strategically around his waist.
Darn it. She'd totally missed the moment of shock when he'd realized she was in the room. His moment of indecision while he tried to decide whether to order her out or play it cool. And she'd missed a farewell glimpse at that magnificent specimen.
"Forget to watch where you're going?" He was still standing in the stream of water, rinsing off the soap, the towel around his waist getting wetter and wetter.
She wondered what the effect of gravity would be on the towel when it got really sodden and heavy. Might be worth it to stay around and watch.
Concentrate on business, Josie. She held up the poster. "What's this?"
"Your poster."
Funny. "Why was it on my wall?"
"Thought you might be missing Buddy."
She held it up higher, pointing at the crotch. "Did you fail to notice the dart holes in his..."
"I saw them."
"And that didn't clue you in that maybe seeing his ugly mug wasn't high on my list of things to do in the morning?"
"Only because you're still misperceiving the situation."
"That agai
n?"
"Yes, that."
The man gave new meaning to the term blinded by love. In his case, sibling love. Josie held up the poster and tore it down the middle, watching Evan's face fade from cocky amusement to annoyance.
Then she turned it sideways, and tore it again.
Evan narrowed his eyes.
She gathered the pieces and ripped them again.
And again.
And yet again, until the pieces were the size of Evan's bottle of aftershave, sitting on the back of the sink. So that was what made him smell so good? She'd have to buy a bottle and keep it by her bed.
"Methinks thou doth protest too much."
Josie stopped in the middle of sprinkling the poster remnants in his toilet, in the trash can and all over the floor. "What?"
"You're angry at him because he left you. There's a fine line between love and hate."
She let her arms fall to her sides. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"You honestly believe I love Buddy and he loves me."
"Yes." There was no hesitation at all.
Had the kiss last night affected him so little that he didn't have even a slight aversion to her getting together with Buddy? She obviously needed to practice her seduction techniques. He should have been up all night, thinking about her and her incredible kisses, not setting up a monument to Buddy in her room. "Any way I can dissuade you from this inane notion about Buddy and me?" Like tearing off my clothes and climbing in there with you?
"No."
"Because you read the poems."
"Yes."
"They're terrible."
"But they aren't porn."
"A man who usually writes porn. What a catch. I wonder if he'll father all my children and teach them how to write porn too. You think you could put in a good word for me?"
Evan shut off the shower and opened the door. A blast of moist heat shot out, heating her face and curling her hair.
There was nothing between them anymore, except his towel, her oversize tee shirt and some very skimpy underwear.
Might have been a good idea to think about getting dressed before she raced into his bedroom in such a huff. And from the flick of Evan's eyes to her bare thighs, she suspected he was thinking the same thing.
Or maybe she'd done exactly the right thing.
"Buddy is a good guy." He was still looking at her legs.
"No, he's not."
"All he needs is a good woman to ground him." His eyes traveled up her legs, heating up her body as they went.
"He needs someone to club him in the head and leave him in the desert."
His gaze paused on her breasts.
A bra would have been a nice thing to don before sprinting into his bathroom. Or not. Maybe she should pour water over the front of her shirt instead. Phew. She was getting very warm.
Evan dragged his eyes up to her face. "He needs you."
"And what if I don't want him?"
"You do."
This was beginning to get a little old. She held up her hand. "For one moment, indulge me with the possibility that I really might not want him, even if you prove he's been spending the last two weeks risking his life to chase down the real crooks who stole everything from me."
He opened his mouth to protest, and she slapped her hand across his lips. His whiskers had certainly gotten longer overnight... No. Concentrate. "Just humor me, Evan. What if you're wrong?"
"That you don't actually want him, even though he loves you?"
"Yes." She held her breath, waiting...dreading...hoping for him to say that he'd drag her into his bedroom and follow through on the kiss that had danced through her dreams all night long.
"Then I'll change your mind."
Argh! "You can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because you can't make someone love someone else, even if you want to. And certainly not Buddy."
"You and Buddy will end up together."
That was it. There was simply no talking to this man. "Fine. Be that way. I hereby declare war on both Dorsett brothers."
"You'll be married to Buddy by the end of the year."
"Yeah? You won't even find him by then. When was the last time you saw him? Six years ago?"
"He'll come back for you."
"And I'll marry him? By December?"
"Yes."
"It's more likely I'll be between your sheets by then instead of married to Buddy." So much for a surprise attack on his body. Adrenaline certainly can do wonders for destroying a perfectly good strategy.
Evan froze for a long moment, nothing moving except his eyes, as they traveled slowly down her body. Whew. Talk about a scorching gaze. She felt like she was in the Sahara Desert at high noon. Come on, Evan. Give in.
He finished his inspection and studied her face for so long her legs began to tremble. Was it time for dinner already? Had an entire day passed with her trapped in this little bathroom with Evan?
"Let's make a wager."
"A wager?" She blinked. "What kind of wager?"
"If you're not married to Buddy by the end of December, I'll pay your tuition for the next four years. But you have to stay here and not take off when I find him. You have to face him."
Whoa. For a girl without a cent to her name, that was almost worth taking, even though it gave Evan a huge incentive to resist her charms. "And what about you and me?"
He narrowed his eyes. "What about it?"
"What if we get together? Then what?"
"We won't."
Well, he didn't have to sound so blasted certain about it. "But what if we did?"
"I..." He frowned. "It just won't happen. There's no sense in considering it."
She could make the same point about her and Buddy getting married. In fact, she was quite certain she had. "I want an apology when I win this bet."
Evan narrowed his eyes. "When I win the bet, I want an apology from you."
Yeah, that'll happen. If she ended up married to Buddy, she'd be crying all over herself so hard she wouldn't even be able to articulate an apology. "Fine."
"One more thing. If you do marry Buddy, I'll throw in tuition and a house, as a wedding present."
She lifted a brow. "I thought you were a savvy businessman. Sounds like I win either way."
"I don't want to give you incentive not to marry Buddy, so the deal has to be even sweeter if you marry him. Either way, I win. You have to stay around and face Buddy or you lose tuition. And when you marry him, you also get a house."
"And you'd do all this just for your brother's happiness?"
"Yep."
"Either you're obscenely rich or completely blind." And he loved his brother. Damn. How could she not respect someone who cared so deeply about his own family? She could only imagine how he'd treat someone who deserved it. Like a doting wife. "Have you ever been married?"
"No." He wrinkled his brow. "Why?"
"Engaged?"
"No."
"Do you want to be married someday? Have kids?"
"Of course." Something caught in his voice, and an emptiness flickered deep in his eyes.
"Something wrong?"
"No." And just as quickly, the emptiness was gone.
She rubbed her chin. What was it about having a family that had made that look of desolation consume him? She contemplated the empty house, and his effort to find Buddy and secure his happiness. Was he a man without family? One who wanted that connection? "Do you have any other siblings?"
"No."
"What about your parents?"
Pain flared in his eyes, then quickly died, shuttered behind a cold shield. "Not your problem."
"I'm curious."
He held out his hand. "Do we have a bet?"
Fine. She could take a hint. Something about his parents was too painful to talk about. And no, she absolutely refused to acknowledge the twinge of empathy in her heart for him, and she ordered herself not to start thinking that perhaps a difficult childhood wa
s the root of Evan's incredibly annoying dedication to Buddy. She would not try to find the good in him. She'd proven herself utterly incapable of making the right decision when it came to a man who hid things from her. First, marrying Tom. Second, trusting Buddy. Third? There would be no third.
She'd take this bet. A no-lose situation for her, it was a free pass to vet school and her new life. She took his hand. "Yes, we do."
And they shook.
Smartest bet she'd ever made.
Except for one small detail.
She'd just given him even more incentive never to touch her again.
Which was fine, because she wasn't hating him quite as much as she should be if she were to have an affair with him.
But she still wanted him just as much.
Incredibly annoying.
Since it was clear Evan wouldn't touch her anyway, maybe the best thing to do would be to try to make him panic so he eliminated all situations where she could lose control and throw herself at him.
"I'm going to go take a shower. Mind if I borrow this?" She grabbed the corner of his wet towel and gave a hearty yank. The sodden towel fell out of her hands, landing with a kerplunk at his feet.
She'd meant to turn away.
She'd intended to flirt and run.
But when faced with the temptation, there was nothing she could do but stand there.
And Evan didn't flinch either.
They both stood there, frozen, as if waiting for the other one to make a move.
Finally, Josie cleared her throat. "If I loved Buddy, would I do that?"
"Maybe." His voice sounded strangled and tight. He reached to the wall beside him and grabbed another towel.
"And if I did love Buddy and I'd do this to him, would you really want him to end up with someone as untrustworthy as me?"
He didn't answer that one.
Josie touched his arm. "I'm not who you think I am, Evan. And Buddy isn't who you think he is."
"Leave."
"Or what? You'll kiss me?" Her heart began to beat tighter, and she took a step towards him.
"Maybe."
"And that's bad?"
"Yes."
"Because I'm Buddy's?"
"Yes." It sounded as if it was a tremendous effort just to get out his one syllable responses.
Paws Up for Love Page 9
