style="font-size:15px;"> Except he was tired of being good.
She angled her head, studying him. ‘Does it bother you? People confusing you?’
They weren’t identical but were so alike most people thought they were. Until recent times, when James’ injury made it obvious. But the scar was superficial. Their real differences had been etched inside years ago when, because of James, a man had died and a family had been destroyed. That old cold feeling sluiced down his spine. He stiffened, pushing it out. He was over that. He was busy, content. Doing something with his life. Slowly he shook his head. ‘Used to. But we’re very different. Sometimes I wish I were more like him.’
‘In what way?’
Caitlin watched a remote look cross James’ face, then his smile twisted and a surprisingly wicked gleam sparked in his eyes. She couldn’t help thinking he’d summoned the charm to scare away the devils.
She knew George Wolfe was the ultimate playboy. Charming, witty, a master at making women willing, biddable, all too easily beddable. Not that she’d succumbed. And truthfully, she’d not received his interest that way, he’d felt pity for her rather than attraction. Because they had that one thing in common. They’d both felt the bite of the press, the judgment of the ill-informed masses.
Notoriety.
But all George had offered her was a safe haven—a hideaway. Turned out the cave came with the big, growly bear who wanted isolation to hibernate. And James Wolfe was more predator than playboy. For all his supposed heroism he had a streak of the hunter. She felt far more at risk here and now than she ever had with George—far more at risk of succumbing. Because James Wolfe, with his sleep-mussed hair, stubble and smoky eyes, was compelling.
‘If I were more like George, I’d have no trouble telling you how well you wear my T-shirt.’ His smile deepened, a small dimple appearing in one cheek. ‘And how much I’m kicking myself for being so abrupt last night.’
Abrupt? He’d been more than abrupt.
‘I hope you can forgive me,’ he said, as smooth as molten chocolate.
She didn’t trust anyone who said anything nice to her—certainly not a man. Not any more. She was sure that in the depths of James’ equally molten chocolate eyes, she’d find calculation. ‘Is that what you really want?’ she asked bluntly.
‘What I really want...?’ he echoed softly.
Oh, she was not falling for his sudden smoothness. She knew what he was up to. ‘You’re worried I’m going to tell the world what a jerk the James Wolfe actually is?’
His concern was laughable. He clearly wasn’t aware there was no way the world would ever believe her.
His chin lifted, his smile turned self-mocking. ‘Not worried about the world, but I am a little concerned about what George might say.’
George would probably laugh.
‘So,’ she challenged. ‘You thought you’d turn on the Wolfe charm and befuddle me so much I’d forget all about it?’
His brows arched high. ‘I thought it was worth a try.’
He was so obviously joking—trying to tease them out of this embarrassing situation. But to have another guy faking flirt with her for his own gain? She couldn’t raise a smile. ‘Why?’ she asked tartly. ‘You need the world to think nothing but the best of you? Your ego is so huge you need every woman to want you?’
He paused, a small laugh escaping beneath his breath. ‘No, I just wanted you to forget how rude I was. But if you want to want me, I guess that’s okay too.’ He shrugged.
‘I don’t want you.’
‘No?’ He adopted a farcically crestfallen look.
Suddenly she couldn’t not laugh. ‘You’re appalling.’ Last night she’d never have imagined he’d be so ridiculous. ‘What would you have done if I said I did want you?’
‘You calling my bluff?’ His smile burst back.
‘So it was a bluff.’ She’d been right, the guy was only out to cover his butt. That hot appreciative look he’d sent her way before was an act. The ‘explanation’ of why her relationship with George mattered was his fear for his reputation. Not because he was attracted to her and didn’t want to tread on his brother’s toes. And she was not remotely disappointed by that fact.
His expression went bland enough to mask all manner of nefarious intentions—but his dark eyes danced. ‘I can neither confirm or deny.’
‘Well, I can’t conform.’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t be one of your millions of adorers.’ She didn’t care how many lives he’d saved, she wasn’t worshipping him.
His chin lifted in a sudden movement, as if he were a predator who’d just caught a whiff of tasty prey nearby. ‘True,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You’re not like most women I meet.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, given you only seem to meet people who think you’re the best thing ever. It strikes me you’ve gotten away with too much for too long.’
‘I have?’ he queried, his lips almost quirking into another of those smiles. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
Caitlin paused, counting to ten to douse the flicker of attraction. She was super glad her ‘hideaway’ flight clothes swamped her and hid the unreasonable reaction of her body to his. She was all tight, all hot. Perhaps she’d picked up flu on the flight?
She didn’t want this trip to start fraught with failure. Yet it was already. Lost luggage. Random midnight roommate. Looming homelessness. Could it get any worse?
Actually, yes. She’d run away from worse. She could handle this. She might be screwed but she wasn’t going to beg. She’d figure something out. She had in the past, she would now. She straightened her shoulders and sucked it up. ‘I’ll go to a hotel.’
‘No,’ he shot back surprisingly quickly. ‘Hotels are awful,’ he added. ‘Soulless places. Stay here.’ His eyes twinkled.
‘There really isn’t room.’
‘Sure there is,’ he said easily. ‘We managed just fine last night, didn’t we?’
Last night she’d lain there for ages, barely breathing before accepting the guy was making like a gigantic piece of Lego. Immovable, inanimate, so faultless he had to be plastic. She’d wished he’d snored or something—she’d wanted to find a flaw, aside from the fact he’d briefly leapt to an unflattering assumption. But even now, with the air of weariness he wore, with the shadows under his eyes and the stubble on his jaw, even with that raw scar, he was the most startlingly sexy man she’d met. So truthfully, she hadn’t managed that well at all. But given how broke she was, she was going to have to cope. The question was whether he wanted to—and if so, why he would?
‘You don’t mind the state it’s in?’ She paused to clear the frog from her throat. ‘Or being so squashed?’
‘This is nothing.’ He looked amused.
Of
