Page 27 of Blackmailing the Bad Girl

Why couldn’t he be fat and ugly and bald? Instead of so beautiful, he made her chest ache. For something she could never have.

He turned and gave her a view of his ridged belly and smooth chest. You didn’t get muscles like that sitting at a desk all day. He must really make use of that gym.

“You want some chocolate cake for breakfast?” She glared at him and he grinned. “No? I’ll throw it out then.” He studied her for a moment. “Maybe all that champagne wasn’t such a good idea after so long.”

She didn’t answer.

“You need to take it slowly.” He picked up the cake, slid it into a plastic bag he’d found somewhere. “There’s no coffee.”

She took a deep breath. “Perhaps you can pick some up on your way out.”

“I could phone for some.”

Her head hurt, her brain throbbing painfully against her skull. She had no clue what was going on. She wanted order in her world. Was that too much to ask?

“Please go,” she said.

He didn’t say anything, and she stared at his feet. He had long toes.

She tried again. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time. I do not need anyone—especially you—to take care of me. I don’t know what you want from me. And I feel like crap.” Her voice was rising, and she couldn’t seem to stop it. “I just want to be alone.” Finally, she raised her gaze to his face. “Please.”

His brows were drawn together in a frown; it looked like he was just as confused as she was. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and ran a hand through his hair. He acted nothing like he was supposed to, and he was knocking her off balance.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he brushed past her, heading into the living room. She turned to watch as he searched the floor, found his T-shirt, socks, boots, then sat on the bed to put them on. Fully dressed, he stood up.

“Are you okay for money? Do you need an advance?”

Something inside her snapped. “Stop it! I’m not some sort of sad charity case. I can look after myself.” She waved a hand toward the front door. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I—”

“But right now, I don’t care. I just want to be alone. Go.” She pointed in the direction of the front door. And finally, at long last, he went.

He hesitated at the door.

Agh!

“Last night—”

“Last night was a one-off. You understand that? As in—never going to happen again.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“I also enjoyed the chocolate cake and the champagne. But you know what? Ultimately, they made me feel like crap. So they’re also going on the never-again list. Just like you.”

His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t happy. But he gave a brief nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And he was gone.

She sank down onto the bed, lay back, and stared at the ceiling.

How the hell was she ever going to get through the next few weeks, or however long it took for him to get tired of tormenting her? Or whatever it was he was doing.

One day at a time.

And no kissing.

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