Get a Clue

of her brothers might have.

Not that he was remotely brotherly… And yet he'd had her at every disadvantage and he'd not tried to press himself on her in any way.

'Breanne?'

Even more unnerving, she liked the sound of her name on his lips. 'Seriously, I'm fine. Don't give me another thought.'

'No?'

'No. I certainly won't be giving you one.' Liar, liar, pants on fire.

He looked at her for a long moment, then pushed away from the doorway, moving toward her like a long, lean cat totally at ease with himself, confident that he was at the top of the food chain. He had a nice gait, the kind a woman could watch all day if she was admitting such things. Which she wasn't. Besides, she'd given up men. His toes touched hers, then he crouched clown, his face level with her belly.

Push him away, her feminist brain demanded.

Pull him close, her body countered.

'You're not going to give me another thought at all?' he asked silkily, and she knew damn well he was purposely invading her space.

She managed to shoot him a smile that she'd perfected before she'd ever left her crib. It was an I'm-fabulous, I-couldn't-be-better smile, an I've-got-the-world-by-the-balls smile. 'Nope. Not another thought.'

Reaching out, he settled a long finger to the base of her throat, where she imagined her pulse was about to leap right out at him. 'So then what's this?' he murmured.

Only a moment ago it had been unease, even fear about her situation here, until he'd touched her.

Now it was arousal, plain and simple.

What kind of a woman was aroused by a perfect stranger? 'Nothing but a physical reaction,' she informed him.

'Ah.' His fingers stroked over her racing pulse and then again. In the glow of the fire, his expression was one of curious intent as he watched the path of his fingers. 'Because you're scared.'

'I'm not scared.'

His lips curved slightly. 'Then what?'

Damn it, he'd caught her. 'I'm tired and hungry and still cold.'

'And that's making your heart pound?'

'Sure.' They were so close his exhaled breath warmed her breasts through the tank and sweatshirt, so close that she could see his eyes weren't a solid azure blue at all, but had flecks of midnight dancing in them, holding secret all his thoughts.

He shifted then, his big, warm hand lightly cupping her throat, skimming to her shoulder and down her arm before gliding back up again in a gesture that could have been meant to warm. And it might have, if he'd been her brother or her father.

And she did get warm. Hot, actually. But something else as well, something far more.

'Still cold?' he murmured.

'Um, no. Thanks.'

'No problem.' His gaze dipped once again to her pulse. 'It's still racing, Princess. How come?'

'Don't know.'

'Want me to guess?'

Her pulse sped up even more. 'No!'

'Because if you were still cold, or even afraid, we have an easy solution.'

'Really? What's that?'

'We share this fire.'

'You mean with you on the floor and me on the couch?'

His gaze didn't waver. 'No.'

Damn if her nipples didn't go happy at his low, rough voice. And other reactions occurred as well: her thighs tightened, and between them came a deep tingle. 'We're perfect strangers,' she reminded herself as well as him. 'I'm not sleeping with a perfect stranger. I'm supposed to be sleeping with my husband.'

'But there is no husband.'

'Goodnight, Cooper.'

'Yeah.' He sighed, then shot a hopeful look at her carry-on. 'You don't by any chance have any food in that bag of yours, do you?'

'No.' Just two sexy nighties. 'But Dante brought you a hot chocolate.'

'Great. Hot chocolate.' With one last stroke of his finger over her throat, he grabbed the mug and left, shutting the doors behind him.

Breanne let out a slow, careful breath and sank back. The man was potent, she'd give him that. But he was also domineering, and just alpha enough to make her want to scream.

And yet… and yet there was more. She didn't know what, and told herself she didn't want to. Curling up into a ball on the couch, she stared into the flames while the weight of the day began to drag her down, along with her eyelids.

But the problem with relaxing, even marginally, was that everything came back to her, beginning with being left at the altar.

How could she not have seen that coming? Seriously, her radar should have at least blipped a warning, but she'd gotten nothing.

She'd met Dean at work. As an investor for one of the companies her accounting firm handled, he'd sauntered by her cubicle, stopping to smile at her. Other than his most annoying habit of humming Elvis tunes at inopportune times-such as when he made love to her-he'd had a suave sophistication she hadn't been able to resist, even knowing he was a player. Foolishly, she'd let herself go for it, and for some reason that had always mystified her, he'd reciprocated.

But everything he'd ever told her-such as those three words, I love you-had turned out to be a lie.

And here she was. Alone. She looked around the large room, into the far corners and the shadows there, managing to convince herself she was fine. She'd even started to relax, at least enough that her muscles didn't ache. And then-

SNAP!

At the loud crack, she fell off the couch and landed on all fours, eyes wide, heart ricocheting off her ribs as she searched the room.

Just the fire crackling. Forcing herself to laugh, she climbed back up on the couch and let her eyes drift shut again. Everything was good, she was going to stay good-

A soft creaking sound had her leaping to her feet. She tried to tell herself she was still fine, but that was hard to believe as she watched the handle on the double doors turn. 'Who- who's there?'

The door slowly opened, revealing the large, dark cavern that was the foyer.

'Cooper?' Her heart hit her throat. 'This isn't funny.'

A small, blond woman appeared. Mid-twenties, maybe, with a petite frame and a sweet, angelic smile. 'Sorry. Did I wake you?'

Was she kidding? Who could sleep in the haunted horrors of the honeymoon house? 'No.'

'Oh, good. I'm Shelly, the cook. I came for the mugs I sent here with Dante.' She came further into the room, passing Breanne's empty mug, heading directly toward the fire, where she held up her hands. 'Darn, it's cold