want one?”
“Yes, please.”
She filled two glasses and carried them to the den. She glanced over her shoulder at the television as she handed Garrett his drink. “What are you watching?”
“Jeopardy.”
Figures, she thought, biting back a smile, as she sank down on the sofa beside him. “Who’s winning?” she asked.
“Guy on the left. They’re about to start Double Jeopardy, though, so that could change things.”
A commercial came on and he lifted the remote to surf through channels.
“Do you have something against commercials?” she asked in frustration.
“Other than being an utter waste of my time?” He shook his head. “Not particularly.”
“You advertise,” she reminded him.
“Some.”
“Hypocrite.”
“Why? Because I refuse to watch a boring commercial?”
She opened a hand. “If the shoe fits…”
“It’s marketing’s responsibility to capture the attention of the consumer. If they fail—” he clicked the remote “—which my company’s commercials seldom do,” he informed her, “I change channels until I find something that does catch my attention. Like that,” he said and set the remote aside.
“The stock market report?” She fanned her face. “Stop. Please. I’m not sure my heart can take the excitement.”
He shot her a scowl. “Why don’t you go spy on the reporters lurking outside some more?”
She tucked her feet beneath her and took a sip of her wine. “There’s nobody out there.”
“There will be by morning.”
“You’re full of bologna. No reporters are coming here.”
“Wanna bet?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said.
“Five hundred says they’ll be here by morning.”
She considered, then shook her head. “Too rich for my blood.”
“Okay, if you don’t want to gamble cash, put up some of your photography of equal value.”
She hesitated a moment, then stood and stuck out her hand. “All right, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he used it to haul himself to his feet. “I prefer photos of landscape, rather than people.”
She lifted a brow. “Kind of confident you’re going to win, aren’t you?”
He shot her a wink and turned away. “When it’s a sure thing, I can afford to be.”
She frowned at his back. “Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” she cried, hurrying after him. “That’s the way to my room.”
“I know. Remember? I chose your bed to sleep in tonight.”
“You’re not sleeping in my bed!”
He opened the door to her private quarters. “Yes, I am.”
She ran after him, praying she hadn’t left underwear or any other equally embarrassing items lying around. “Garrett, really,” she pleaded. “You can sleep in any bed you want. Just not mine.”
He sank down on the side of her bed and bounced a couple of times, as if testing the mattress. “I prefer this one,” he said, and stood, pulling his sweater over his head.
Ali stared, unable to tear her gaze away from the oh-so-sexy chest he’d exposed. Who’d’ve thought? she thought, as heat crawled up her neck, threatening her air. She’d been pressed against his chest the night before when they’d kissed, but they had both had on jackets, which had done a heck of a job of concealing what proved to be a wonderfully muscled and toned body.
“You win,” she managed to say, and darted for the adjoining bath. “Just let me get my stuff.”
She grabbed her pajamas and toothbrush and hustled back out, careful to keep her gaze fixed straight ahead, fearing he’d stripped completely while she was out of the room. In the doorway, she groped blindly behind her for the knob, to pull the door closed behind her.
“Ali?”
She stopped, but didn’t dare turn around. “What?”
“Since you enjoyed kissing me so much, I thought you’d want to sleep with me, too.”
Setting her jaw, she slapped a hand against the wall switch, turning off the light, and yanked the door closed behind her.
She wasn’t sure, but she’d swear she heard him laughing as she stalked to the den.
Score one for the home team, Garrett thought, chuckling, as he climbed into bed. Judging by Ali’s fast exit following his comment about her sleeping with him, it appeared he’d succeeded in getting even with her for the hard time she’d given him over his run-in with the law and Officer Wilhelm.
He punched up his pillow and lay back, wondering where she would sleep. There were plenty of empty beds to choose from, including the one he’d slept in prior to claiming hers. He’d blamed his inability to sleep on the sagging mattress, which was what had started the whole where-will-Garrett-sleep debate. But Garrett’s sleeplessness wasn’t due to a sagging bed.
It was due to the Vista’s innkeeper.
His smile faded. He hadn’t intended for it to happen, had done everything within his power to prevent it, but it was true.
Ali Moran had gotten under his skin.
It had started with the stories she’d told him of her past and his growing suspicion that she was more victim than enemy, and had quickly escalated to a physical attraction that grew stronger each day he spent with her.
He dragged his pillow over his face to smother a groan. What the hell was he going to do now? he asked himself in frustration. He’d arrived in Austin prepared to despise her, ruin her if necessary, and now all he could think about was sleeping with her? She was his stepmother’s daughter, for God’s sake!
He could handle this, he told himself. It was simply a matter of refocusing his goals, keeping a respectable distance from her.
He drew in a deep breath, telling himself he could do this. He’d maintained his objectivity in tougher situations.
He was immediately proved wrong. That one breath had filled his senses with her scent, evoking images of her. Lying in this very bed. The two of them together.
