Holiday with a Stranger. Christy McKellen
a tantalising flash of her pert breasts—which were rather larger than he remembered—before she grabbed the towel that pooled around her waist and whipped it up around her.
Gazing at her shocked face in the pale glow of the moonlight, he realised he’d made a mistake.
This wasn’t Katherine.
This was an altogether different problem.
* * *
Josie’s heart slammed against her chest as adrenaline ricocheted through her body. After staring at her laptop in the dark for the past ten minutes she had to work hard to get her eyes to focus on the looming shape in front of her. She could barely make out the features of the enormous man standing at the foot of the bed, but she’d swear she could feel his anger.
‘What do you want?’ It was a reflex question—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to—and it came out as a shaky whisper.
‘I want my bed.’ His voice was quieter this time, not exactly friendly, but there was a hint of bemusement mixed in with the exasperation.
Confusion engulfed her. Perhaps she was dreaming? The situation was certainly bizarre enough to be one of her dreams.
‘What do you mean your bed? Who the hell are you? You scared the crap out of me.’
The man took a pace backwards in response to her rankled tone and raised his hands, palms forward. Surrender.
‘Look, I’m sorry for scaring you.’ His voice softened. ‘I thought you were...’ He paused. ‘Someone else.’
Josie’s eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the dark as her night vision improved. She watched as the tension left his body. Perhaps he wasn’t going to attack her, but she inched closer to her bedside lamp just in case, her muscles tight with anxiety.
She was distracted for a moment by the tinny sound of her music, playing through the earphones that had prevented her hearing his approach—which were now lying discarded on the bed.
Wrenching her attention back, she asked, ‘So who are you?’ forcing more authority into her voice this time, in an attempt to take control of the situation.
Perhaps if she could convince him she was in charge he might leave her alone. She’d heard somewhere that when cornered the best type of defence was attack. Although her only actual experience of being attacked was fighting for funding for the business—facing down aggressively assertive venture capitalists—which was not the same thing as a midnight stand-off with a strange man.
‘Connor Preston. I own this place,’ he said.
Josie blew out a small sigh, her heart-rate slowing a fraction. Preston. Okay. He must be Abigail’s brother—the wanderer—returning home from a life living off his trust fund. He wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Abigail was the total opposite of her brother: petite and willowy. This man was anything but petite. It was hard to gauge from her position in the bed, but she’d guess he was at least six foot four and built like an ox. Not the sort of vision you wanted to encounter alone in the middle of the night.
‘Who are you?’ The gruff timbre of his voice coming at her through the gloom was unnerving.
She leant across and switched on the bedside light. Yup, he was big, all right, and rugged and unshaven. His dark blond hair looked as if it could do with a cut and his clothes were creased and unkempt. He looked exhausted; his eyes dull with fatigue. Based on what Abigail had told her, she guessed he must be in his early thirties—only a few years older than her—but he looked as though he’d lived through every second of them. He had a strong face—not classically handsome, but definitely arresting. The type of man who would always be noticed, no matter where he was or who he was with.
Her skin prickled as he scrutinised her in return and a hot flush travelled through her body, leaving a sizzling pulse in the most unnerving places.
‘I’m Abigail’s business partner. Josie Marchpane,’ she said, aware her voice was somewhat squeakier than normal. She waited for a sign of recognition on his face. It didn’t come; he just stared back, assessing her. ‘Abi said I could stay here for a while....’ She tailed off as his expression grew darker.
‘Is that right?’ His tone was abrupt now, and unfriendly.
There was a heavy silence in the room as they looked at each other.
Silence?
Something was wrong.
The music had stopped playing. With horror, Josie suddenly realised that, in the shock of Connor’s appearance she’d forgotten about the drink she’d thrown all over the bed...and her laptop.
Twisting round, she looked down to see the screen had gone black. When she tapped the space bar, then jabbed all the other buttons in panic, nothing happened.
It looked as if her laptop hadn’t agreed with being showered with juice, and had died in disgust.
‘No, no, no, no, no!’ All the work she’d done since she’d got here was on that machine. She’d stupidly assumed there would be an internet connection, so she could back her work up, but that had been another surprise that Abi hadn’t warned her about. Deliberately. She was sure of it.
‘What’s wrong?’
Connor’s deep drawl broke into her consciousness. She’d almost forgotten him in her panic.
‘I just killed my computer with orange juice.’ It would have been funny if it wasn’t so absolutely devastating. Losing her laptop was tantamount to losing her right hand.
‘Orange juice?’ He nodded slowly. ‘So that’s what you’ve christened my bed with.’
Irritation got the better of her. How could he be concerned about the state of the bed when her laptop had kicked the bucket?
‘I’ve just lost three days’ worth of work.’
He appeared unfazed by her snippy tone. ‘Do you always work naked?’ Crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, he gave her a look that bordered on seductive.
The hairs on her arms stood up in response and heat burned in her belly. Acutely aware of her nakedness under the towel, she broke eye contact and looked around for her clothes. She’d have to walk past him to get to them. That meant skirting the end of the bed and passing within a foot of him. The thought made her uneasy and a little tick throbbed in her eye.
Rubbing a hand over her face, she tried to wipe away the befuddling mix of sensations. ‘I was in the shower and I had a thought.’ Her voice trembled and she cleared her throat to relieve the tightness.
He tilted his head in an approximation of bewildered understanding.
She sighed. ‘I’m writing a tender document for work and I was hit with inspiration. I didn’t want to forget it before I had a chance to write it down.’
‘I get it,’ he said, giving a bemused shake of his head.
Good God, he knew how to get under her skin.
‘Look, do you mind?’ She forced her shoulders back and tipped up her chin. ‘I’m not exactly prepared for socialising right now. Can we talk about this in the morning?’
Connor dragged his gaze up from where her fingers grasped the towel and frowned. ‘Where am I supposed to sleep? You’ve taken the only bed.’
‘Try the sofa.’
The look on his face almost made her laugh.
‘I’ve been travelling for three months. I was looking forward to finally sleeping in my own bed.’
‘If I’d known you were coming we could have worked something out,’ she retorted.
‘Worked something out, huh?’ He dropped his gaze down her body, taking in the swell of her figure that the towel barely concealed.
The disturbing