Page 7 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

When he sat up, the duvet fell, exposing a large, bare chest. Was henaked?Shielding his eyes with a hand, he shouted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

There’s a man in my bed.

Her scalp bristled, and her heart leaped into her throat. “I live here.” She knew she sounded hysterical butcome on. How could she protect herself?

“No, you don’t.” He leaned over, patting the floor. “Iown this place.”

What if he was reaching for a weapon? She dropped to her knees, swept her hand under the bed, and whisked out the bat she’d stashed there. When she popped back up, she brandished it at him. “Out, motherfucker.”

Totally unfazed, he stuck his hands inside a sweater and threw it on over his head.

“I’m serious.” Her hands shook and sweat broke out on her forehead. “Get out of here or I’m calling the police.”

“That’d be great. I’d appreciate it. They don’t like squatters around here.”

Why was he being so calm about all this? And also, that was a very expensive cashmere sweater. “I’m sorry if you got caught out in the snowstorm, but you can’t stay here.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He eyed her with such resolve that fight-or-flight kicked in.

If there wasn’t a storm, if she wasn’t thirteen miles from town, she’d run for her life.

“You realize I can grab you by the scruff of your neck and toss you out, right?” he asked.

She slammed the bat on the mattress, just an inch away from his thigh. “Try me, fucker.”

“Okay, Hellcat. You don’t believe it’s my place? How about the Hermès body gel in the shower? Or the size thirteen running shoes in the broom closet in the kitchen?”

Hm. She had noticed those things. And that shower gel was so amazing, she’d used it all up. “So? You could’ve been snooping around while I was sleeping. Maybe you dated the person that owns this place.”

“Jesus Christ.” He fell back onto the pillow. “I just want to sleep.”

“Even if you do own the cabin, you don’t get to come in here whenever you feel like it. It’s not my problem you got caught out in the storm. I’m paying good money to rent this place. Now, get out.”

He stared up at a ceiling he couldn’t see in the dark. “I don’t rent this cabin out.”

“Well, obviously, you do.” She lifted an arm before dropping it to her side. “My money’s going somewhere.”

He sighed, hiking himself up on an elbow. He looked exhausted. “Listen, I don’t give a damn what your story is. I just want you out of here.”

“I’m paying twenty-five thousand dollars a month for this place. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Twenty-five grand, huh?” He pretended to be impressed. “This place is worth that much?”

Rude.“And for my privacy, yes. It’s worth it.” She’d noticed it didn’t have the usual features of other places she’d rented. No folder of things to do and restaurants that delivered. Or a welcome basket. But she hadn’t cared about any of that. It gave her all the luxury and privacy she needed.

“Well, I don’t know who bamboozled you, but that money’s not going into my bank account.” He looked at the flashlight and made the gimme motion with his hand.

“Not a chance, buddy.”

“Technically, it’s mine. But I’m getting out ofmybed to find my boxers, so unless you want my dick and balls swinging in the wind, you’ll hand it over.”

The whole situation was unnerving, and she wasn’t about to let down her guard. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen.” Moving around the bed, she flashed the light onto the floor and watched him scoop up his black boxer briefs and jeans.

She looked away as he got dressed, the shush of fabric the only sound in the cold room. She needed her robe and her slippers, but she didn’t dare give him the advantage by losing her focus.

Once he was dressed, he headed out of the room.Oh, thank God.He’s leaving.

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