Jill Shalvis - Get a Clue

Maybe. Another shiver shook her body. Her jaw was sore from all the chattering her teeth were doing inside her head, and she felt so weary she could have curled up into a tiny ball in front of the fire and slept for the rest of the week.

"You done yet?"

"No."

"Jesus. Just do it, would you?"

She reached for the zipper on her jeans. "You always this patient?"

"It's a special gift."

"Betcha it gets you a lot of women."

"Yeah, they're beating down my door."

In direct conflict with those confident, cocky words, he hunched his shoulders, stretching the sweater taut across the muscles there as he stared into the fire.

She didn't have the time, nor could she spare the energy, to wonder about him, but she did. "Are you married?"

A rather harsh laugh escaped him. "No."

"Committed?"

"No."

With or without the attitude, she imagined he did have women beating down his door. It was all that disheveled hair calling to a woman's fingertips, that come-sin-with-me expression, those drown-in-me blue eyes.

And then there was the rest of him, which would have a weaker woman begging him for a distraction from this cold.

But she wasn't weak, and she had enough problems at the moment. She didn't need to be courting more. Hitching his oversized sweatshirt up to her chin to see, she reached for the zipper on her jeans, trying like hell not to inhale the delicious scent of the soft material again. Eyeing him carefully, she began to peel the wet jeans off her hips, not an easy chore because they'd practically iced themselves to her skin. She had to do the shimmy shake, and finally, finally got them to her knees, stopping to adjust her wayward panties.

Cooper turned around.

"Hey!" she squealed, crossing her hands over her tiny scrap of white satin-worn for the rat bastard Dean.

Cooper ran his gaze from her undoubtedly wild hair to his own sweatshirt stuffed up to her chin, exposing her belly button piercing and the panties that hadn't been meant to cover much, and didn't. "I figured fair's fair," he said very softly.

Literally caught with her pants down, Breanne stood frozen to the spot, unable to move or even breathe. In that horrible beat of time she became painfully aware of how she must look, sweatshirt high, pants at her knees, her barely there bikini bottoms askance…

Cooper's deep blue eyes sparked, flamed, and the oddest thing happened to her. In spite of everything, a little ball of heat swirled low in her belly.

She had to be delirious. From the cold. From exhaustion. From her life sucking big-time. Awkwardly she hopped again, trying to pull her jeans back up, but they weren't going anywhere. Then she made one too many hops and caught her boot heel on the hem of the jeans. Waving her arms wildly, she struggled for balance.

Cooper merely stepped forward and caught her.

Fine. He could help her and she could die of mortification later.

But he didn't help. He put a hand to the middle of her chest and gave her a little push, making her fall gracelessly to the couch. Once again, the pink vibrator hit the floor and rolled to a stop at his feet.

They both stared at it for one beat before Breanne tried to bounce back up.

“Stay ," he commanded.

Oh, no. Hell, no. She scissored her legs, meaning to kick him, either in the chin or the nads, she didn't care; she was going to take him down. Now.

But he just laughed low in his throat, and then again when she struggled to karate-chop him with her legs caught together by her own jeans. Laughed, as he crouched beside her, a big hand on either of her thighs and said, "Give in, Princess."

"I never give in."

Holding her down with ease, he reached for the fallen vibrator, lifting it up. The obnoxious thing still glowed neon-pink. "Never say never." Then he grinned at her in the firelight, looking just like the devil must look in the dead of winter with no one to torture. "This thing keeps showing up. Maybe you should claim it."

"It's not mine!"

"I don't know… earlier you were gripping it like it was your long-lost best friend." With a flick of his wrist, he turned it on.

The low hum filled the air, and with it came a buzzing in Breanne's ear-the sound of her brain coming to boiling point.

"Ready for use," Cooper said, suggestively waggling it in her face.

"Good." She struggled to get free, trying not to think about the picture she was presenting him with. "You can shove it up your-"

"Oh, no," he said. "Ladies first." He dropped the thing to the couch next to her, where it rumbled against the soft, buttery leather while he slid his hands down her legs to the jeans pooled between her knees.

"Don't even think about it," she choked out.

But he wasn't only thinking about it, he was doing it, fisting his fingers into the wet denim and yanking them past her knees to her ankles, where they caught on her boots.

His gaze met hers, intense and raw, and along with it a heart-stopping heat.

Did he have to pack such a sexual energy? She felt her entire body clench with a punch of shocking yearning.

"High-heeled boots," he murmured. "Ever so practical out here."

She stared down at the top of his head as he worked on stripping her. Her little triangle of white satin had not only slipped sideways, it was now riding up into parts unknown. She'd had a bikini wax two days ago-again for the rat bastard Dean-and judging from the very soft, very rough sound that escaped Cooper at her movements, he'd caught an eyeful up close and personal. "If I wasn't so tired," she murmured, sagging back, suddenly exhausted, "I'd kick your ass."

"Next time," he said, trying to untie her boots. The laces were iced. "I guess you were all prettied up for the honeymoon."

No. She'd prettied up for herself, to feel sexy, but she was not going to argue with a man when her pants were around her ankles; when she had a vibrator bouncing on the couch next to her, taunting her; when she had bigger worries, such as her panties, and what they still weren't covering. Shoving the sweatshirt down as far as she could, which was to the tops of her thighs, she leaned forward to hurry the process along.

While she worked on one boot, Cooper continued to work on the other, his fingers managing to work faster and far more efficiently than hers. His bowed head was close enough to her thighs that he could have lifted his head and drunk his fill, but he kept his gaze on her boot, pulling it off, pushing her hands aside, then removing her other as well. Finally he hooked his hands into her jeans again and peeled them away. Her legs were pink and mottled from the cold, and when his knuckles brushed against her, she flinched. Without a word he stood, I ›nce again turning his back to her, staring into the fire, looking a little more tense than he had a moment ago.

"A little late now," she muttered, pulling on the sweat bottoms.

He didn't respond to that.

"Done," she said, and stood.

Only then did he turn back to face her, his gaze sweeping from top to bottom, taking in the way his sweats looked on her. The only sign of strain was a tic in his jaw. "You want the couch in front of the warm fire?" he asked. "Or the cold honeymoon suite? We can start you a fire there."

She couldn't concentrate with the vibrator continuing to hum and jump on the couch, but she knew she didn't want to go further into the depths of the dark house. With an annoyed sound, she reached for the vibrator, desperate to turn it off.

Cooper beat her to it, turning it off himself before handing it back. "Keep it. You never know when you might need a friend."

She rolled her eyes, but the thing provided a tiny bit of light so she grabbed it. Plus, given that she was off men, it might be sooner than later before she'd need a friend of the battery-operated variety.

'"Night," he said with an irritating, knowing smile. He began to walk away.

"Wait!" When he turned back to her, she had to come up with something to say. "We… can't both really stay here."

He just raised a brow.

"And I think you should be the one to leave," she said, lifting her chin.

"Why me?"

“You said it yourself-I had a bad day."

"Hell, Princess, I've had a bad year, and you don't see me whining about it."

She wondered how bad was bad, and if it could possibly match hers.

"You want to trudge out in the snow and try to get into town?" he asked.

With the coyotes, bears, and God knew what else? "No. I thought…"

"That I'd do it." He shook his head. "I was here first."

"That's gentlemanly."

He laughed. "Yeah, well, you're not stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, in the storm of the century, with any sort of gentleman."

For some insane reason, that caused another flicker of heat to spiral through her.

Which proved it, really. She had lost her mind.

"We both know the roads are closed by now," he said. "And I for one am not snowshoeing into town. In fact, I'm not going anywhere."