"With what?" I laughed. "The 'gun' in my pants?"
"Oh, stop it," she said. "You're making it sound all worse."
"Worse than a gun?"
"Forget the pants," she said. "So you admit it? You had a gun?"
"Hell yeah, I had gun," I said. "What? You think I'm gonna go looking for an intruder without one?"
"I wasn't an intruder," she said. "I was waiting for my cousin. And you broke down the door."
"Yeah. My door," I said. "So don't worry about it."
If Arden were anyone else, I might've taken the time to explain that it wasn't the door that broke, but rather the casing around it.
And, as far as the gun, it's not like I'd been waving it in her face. In fact, once I'd peered through that new hole in the wall and had seen the silhouette of a naked female in the shower, I'd actually tucked the gun into the back of my jeans to keep her from thinking that she was about to get murdered.
I'd been doing her a favor.
The way I saw it, she was lucky I'd taken the time to look first and shoot later – or rather, not shoot at all.
And this was the thanks I got.
It was vintage Arden.
From the look on her face, she wasn't done yet. Sure enough, she demanded, "And why'd you do that, anyway?"
"Do what?"
"Break down the door."
I gave her a look. "You're kidding, right?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
I took a long moment to study her face. No, she definitely wasn't kidding. But she was beautiful. Her eyes were flashing, and her lips were full. And her chest – the perfect size, by the way – was rising and falling in time with her agitated breathing.
Memories of her little yellow T-shirt – and worse, her pretty pink nipples – came flooding back to me. She'd looked good.
She still looked good.
I gave a silent curse. If I kept up this line of thinking, I would be dealing with a problem in my pants, except this time, it wouldn't be a gun.
In reply to her question, I said, "Put yourself in my shoes. You go in to check on a house – a house that's supposed to be empty. And you find someone naked in the shower."
At the word "naked," her lips parted and then quickly shut again. The movement, as small as it was, sent my thoughts straight into the gutter.
And now I was pissed. I didn't want this. I didn't want her. And I didn't want to be thinking X-rated thoughts about someone who violated that all-important rule – the one about sticking your dick in crazy.
With a hard look, I told her, "So like I said, put yourself in my shoes. What do you think I'm gonna do? Knock and wait politely for you to grab a gun of your own and shoot me through the door?"
"Hah! I didn't even have a gun."
"Yeah. But I didn't know that, did I?"
She gave a hard scoff. "You didn't know a lot of things." And with that, she yanked her hand so hard that I forgot to hang on. Faster than I might've thought possible, she turned and tried to stomp off before I lunged for her wrist.
I grabbed it hard and held on tight. Good thing, too. Because already, her left foot had broken through the rotted floor.
She gave a little scream as I yanked her back. Her body collided into mine with enough force to leave us breathless. Or maybe it was just me, because she felt too damned good, with her sweet body pressed tight against my own.
Her arms closed around me. And mine closed around her.
But then, both of us froze.
Neither one of us said a word.
She made no move to pull away.
Neither did I.
As we stood there, my jeans grew uncomfortably tight, and I stifled a groan at the thought of finding a safe spot in the attic and screwing her silly.
I could practically see it. In mind, I could feel it too.
It was the final straw. "Damn it, Arden." By now, I was irritated to the bone. Even worse, I wasn't sure why.
Yeah, sure, I was pissed that she'd been so careless.
But I was even more pissed at myself – for letting her walk on the floor in the first place, and for the way my body was responding to hers.
I didn't even like her.
And she sure as hell didn't like me.
When she dropped her arms, I dropped mine, too. Now I was even more angry, because part of me wanted to yank her back and kiss her hard and heavy, until her knees buckled and she forgot about Clara Cooper and that stupid D-minus.
Instead, I reached once again for her wrist, intending to guide her back to the stairway. But when I looked in that direction, I found one more reason to curse.
Roy was standing on the top step, with his video camera.
And it was pointed straight at us.
Chapter 25
Arden
At something in Brody's expression, I froze.
When I turned to follow his gaze, I stifled a gasp. Roy was standing on the top step of the attic stairway, exactly where I'd been standing when I'd first spotted Brody looking out the rear window.
The fact that Roy had seen our little scuffle – or whatever it was – would've been humiliating enough on its own. But unless I was mistaken, he was filming us, too.
What the hell?
I called out, "What are you doing?"
In reply, he made a forwarding motion with his free hand, as if to indicate that I should ignore the camera and keep on with whatever he'd just interrupted.
I felt my jaw clench. Didn't he get it?
Whatever had just happened, it was done.
Now, if I had my way, I'd simply stomp off into the proverbial sunset – except I couldn’t, because I'd just learned the folly of that idea.
Brody
