you do,’ Finn grumbled, looking frustrated and miserable. ‘Because I sure don’t. I keep thinking that I have to get my act together and I keep putting it off. I hate clothes-shopping.’
‘You always looked okay to me.’ Better than okay—mighty fine, in fact. And his clothes were nice, too. ‘So, does your ineptitude with home decoration extend to your wardrobe?’
Finn tipped his bottle up to lips. ‘Yep. In spring and autumn Liz would drag my ass to the shops. She’d choose and I’d pay.’
Callie’s lips quirked. Shopping was something she could help him with. After taking a big sip of wine, she stood up and jerked her head, indicating that he should get up too. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Where?’
‘Up to your bedroom.’
When she saw his eyes widen and a gleam appear, she rolled her eyes and thought that she should explain—quickly.
‘Since you’re giving me an all-expenses-paid holiday, the least I can do is to help you out with your wardrobe. I’ll go through your clothes, pick out what’s suitable, and then we’ll go shopping for what you need.’
Finn looked suddenly and momentarily panicked, but she put it down to the fact that no man—especially one as masculine as Finn—wanted to spend any part of his evening discussing clothes.
‘Trust me … it’ll be painless.’
‘I don’t think that having you in my bedroom is a very good idea,’ Finn stated as he followed her through the house and up the stairs.
‘We’re taking it slow, one day at a time, and today is not that day, Banning,’ Callie told him as they hit the top floor. ‘Where’s your bedroom?”
Finn gestured wordlessly to the closed door on their right. Callie opened it and walked into a white-on-cream, endlessly pale bedroom. Placing her hands on her hips, she lifted her eyebrows as she took in the cream and white striped walls, the deep beige curtains and the neutrally shaded pillows piled high on the floor.
She felt as if she’d stepped into a dairy.
‘Wow …’ she murmured.
‘I hate this room,’ Finn muttered, standing at the door, glaring.
‘It’s not that bad … it just needs some colour,’ Callie said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. She gestured to the bed—a white wood canopied monstrosity that dominated the room. ‘You must also have hated the mattress.’
‘What?’ Finn barked.
‘The mattress—it’s gone.’
Finn shoved both hands into his hair and dropped his head, for a brief instant looking like a little boy who’d been slapped. Then his face changed and turned hard and determined.
‘You know what? Let’s not worry about checking what I have that I can take. I’ll just buy a whole new wardrobe.’
Callie started to argue, but stopped when she saw the misery underneath the fury. ‘That’s an expensive exercise,’ she said carefully, knowing that there was something fundamental that she was missing.
‘I can afford it,’ Finn said and gestured for her to leave the room.
Callie knew that it wasn’t the right time to argue with him, to try and push his buttons. He wanted her out for some deeply private reason, so she left the bedroom and headed for the stairs. She waited until they were halfway down before speaking again.
‘Still want me to help you shop for clothes?’
Finn’s tension seemed to fade as he closed the door behind him. His white teeth flashed. ‘Hell, yes. I might come back with one of those khaki vests with a hundred pockets and pants that unzip at the knees to become shorts.’
Callie shuddered at the thought, not entirely convinced he was joking. ‘You definitely need help.’
Finn’s broad hand, warm and exciting, encircled her neck as they walked down the stairs. ‘In more ways than one. So, what are we ordering for supper?’
She loved spending other people’s money, Callie thought, holding up two shirts for Finn that she really liked. And it was so much fun shopping for a guy. Finn didn’t think so, but she did. They’d only been at it for a couple of hours and he was starting to wilt—the lightweight.
There was a pile of bags in Finn’s SUV already, and with the clothes now on a low couch in this store she thought he would have everything he might need for the next couple of weeks—possibly years. She’d made him buy belts and shorts, designer tees and shirts, shoes and ties, and she’d had a blast.
‘Anything else, Callie?’
You knew you were a professional shopper when the sales clerks knew you by name, Callie thought. ‘No, I think that’s it, Annie. If you’d like to start ringing that pile up, I’ll take these to Finn so that he can try them on. We’ll meet you at the counter in a few.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Annie agreed, and Callie left her to gather up the clothes while she walked into the three-cubicle dressing room, the shirts over her arm.
The first two were empty, and she skidded to a halt as she saw Finn’s reflection in the third changing room mirror through a gap in the curtains.
She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the perfection that was his body. He was wearing nothing more than a brief pair of pants, and his body rippled with muscle as he shoved a shirt back onto a hanger. His legs were long and muscled, his tanned shoulders broad, his butt round and tight. His broad chest and rippled stomach made all the saliva in her mouth disappear.
How was she supposed to go on holiday with him, knowing how much she wanted him? This gnawing need to know what he felt like, how he made love, how he would feel as he filled her, completed her, was unusual for her, and it scared her as nothing else ever had. Yes, she needed to explore his body—but she also wanted to dig below his cool, calm and controlled surface to see what was underneath.
That wasn’t good. She always kept her distance from men who made her feel too much, who intrigued her. They were dangerous. They made her want more than sex, more than a brief affair, and nobody had made her want more like Finn did.
It didn’t matter how much she wanted him, she reminded herself. She could want and wish and pray, but the people she needed to stick around never did. Remember?
That cold dose of reality didn’t make her desire for Finn disappear. Her mind might realise that he was dangerous but her body still craved him.
She could never allow herself to risk getting to know him too well. She couldn’t get emotionally attached to him. But she wanted to know his touch, his taste, how it felt to have that powerful body giving and receiving pleasure.
Finn’s eyes met hers in the mirror and he just stared at her, half naked, his desire for her blazing from his face. She watched, fascinated, as his penis grew into an erection from nothing more than looking at her. Finn didn’t try to hide his reaction. Instead he just kept his eyes locked on hers, his hands on his hips.
‘Keeping
