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She glanced up at him as she passed in front of him to get through the door. Close in front of him. And an intense image of him kissing her good-night flooded through her.
This really had been the most bizarre day she’d ever spent.
“See you tomorrow,” she said in a hurry, forcing herself to look down at the ground instead of up at him and moving the rest of the way out of the house.
But as she hobbled across the breezeway, feeling his eyes following her, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what kind of a kisser he would have been if he actually had kissed her good-night.
And then she could have kicked herself for the thought.
Because something told her that he would be as good at that as he was at handling sprained ankles.
And she had to fight hard against the desire to find out for real.
Chapter Four
As Bax searched the cupboards for a can of coffee the next morning he kept an eye on the guest cottage out back.
The curtains were all pulled and there didn’t seem to be any signs that Carly was up and about.
But then it was barely six and there wasn’t any reason she should be up that early.
There wasn’t any reason he should be up that early. Except that he’d dreamed about her and the dream had snapped him awake and left him with such an adrenaline rush he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
Much as he’d wanted to. To revisit the dream.
Because what a dream it had been!
Carly, stepping out of the bathroom the way he had the day before. A towel wrapping her naked body. Steam all around. Her hair twisted and held in place with that pencil, just as it had been when he’d first seen her. One long slender arm reaching up to pull the pencil out. Her hair cascading to her still-damp shoulders. A secret smile on that rosebud mouth. Shining topaz eyes giving him a come-hither wink. And then the towel falling away…
Somewhere in recalling the dream Bax had stopped looking for coffee. Instead, he was holding on to the edge of one of the counters like a runner catching his breath.
And he actually did need to catch his breath. Along with calming down the rest of him before anybody walked into the kitchen and saw him in the state the memory had left him.
He straightened, arched his back, and told himself he was being a damn fool.
Then he let out a deep sigh and restarted the search for coffee.
Maybe a hot, dark cup of the stuff would help get him on track again.
Not that anything else had.
“Bingo!” he muttered to himself when he spotted a can of coffee grounds in the same cupboard where the cups were stored.
He took the can down, fiddled with the coffee-maker until he figured it out and then measured the grounds, adding one more scoop than he ordinarily would have in the hope that an extra-strong brew would have some effect on these unwelcome thoughts he’d been having about Carly Winters.
Caffeine as the cure-all.
Once the coffee was on its way he replaced the can and settled in to wait for the liquid to brew.
And as he did, his gaze wandered out the window over the sink to the cottage again.
Was she sleeping? Probably. In pajamas? Or maybe a frilly little nightgown? Or nothing at all…?
“Hurry up, coffee,” he said to the machine, desperate for something—anything—to stop the thoughts of Carly.
It had been like this since he’d first set eyes on her the day before. He didn’t understand it. And he couldn’t curb it. No matter how hard he tried. And he had been trying. But it was as if she were stuck like glue to his brain and he couldn’t pry her loose.
Not that it was torturous having her on his mind. Or at least it wouldn’t have been if things were different. If he was in the market for a relationship. After all, there was something really appealing about her. She was beautiful and cute at the same time. Thoughtful and independent. Sweet and sexy…
And flustered. She’d been very flustered for some reason.
Maybe she’d sensed the things he’d been thinking about her. The attraction he felt for her.
He’d done his damnedest to hide it. To seem as if he were hardly noticing her at all. But maybe he hadn’t done that any better than he’d actually fought his attraction to her. And maybe if she’d sensed it, she’d figured him for some kind of maniac.
Hell, he felt like some kind of maniac.
What rational man would be so bowled over by a little wisp of a woman he’d just met? What rational man wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her? Wondering how her hair would feel slipping through his fingers. Wondering if he could make her writhe with pleasure if he touched her in just the right spots. Wondering what it would be like to kiss her…
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