Whose Bed Is It Anyway? Read Online Free PDF Page A

the pillows.’
    Caitlin pressed her lips together for a moment to suppress the heat suddenly flaring inside. She could well imagine his physical demands would be great. He was the kind to want more. To take more.
    â€˜I can’t let you do this.’ Ugh, her voice had gone husky. She cleared her throat. ‘I’ll disturb you.’
    He hesitated for a moment. ‘I can sleep through anything.’
    Actually, she figured that was true. He’d been out cold last night. ‘So you’re suggesting that we—two total strangers—share this one room?’
    â€˜I am.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’ll only be for a couple days at most. I’ll be heading out on another assignment soon. You’ll have the place to yourself the rest of your month.’
    Given she had no back-up plan, what choice did she have? But there was that one thing and she couldn’t not spell it out. ‘You honestly think it can work given what you thought on seeing me here last night?’
    â€˜I was really tired. Not thinking clearly.’ For the first time he glanced away from her first. ‘You can’t blame me. I think most men look at you and think “sex”.’
    â€˜Is that supposed to be a compliment?’ she drawled acidly.
    â€˜Hey, I’m just a man.’
    â€˜But you’re not, are you? You’re not just any man.’
    He looked back at her. ‘I think you’ll find I’m very much just a man.’
    â€˜Given that, I’m really not sure it’s a good idea I stay here.’
    He studied her silently. Then smiled gently. ‘Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about.’
    Somehow—ridiculous as it was, given he was trying to reassure her—she felt even more insulted than she had last night. ‘Sweetheart?’
    He grinned. ‘Sugar, honeypot...’
    â€˜You’ve obviously forgotten my name is Caitlin.’
    â€˜I haven’t forgotten anything about you.’ A glitter intensified the laughter in his eyes.
    That kind of focus was enough to make any woman blush. She drew breath, fighting the flare of heat in her cheeks. ‘Okay, I definitely can’t stay here.’ She’d be safer on the streets.
    â€˜Sure you can.’
    â€˜Not if you’re going to flirt like a bulldozer,’ she grumbled. She didn’t want any man-attraction stuff in her life right now. She wanted peace .
    He laughed. A deliciously low, warm, infectious sound. ‘You don’t like flirting?’
    Caitlin fought to keep hold of her grump and not succumb to his charm. ‘It’s not appropriate.’ He didn’t even mean it.
    He looked even more amused. ‘You honestly don’t think a guy and a girl can share a room without...’ He raised his brows.
    Oh, now he was making her seem like some kind of sex-crazed spinster. ‘It’s not that but—’
    â€˜Ah, you do think I’m attractive.’ He nodded in a confiding way, his grin absurdly boyish.
    Confound the man, he was confusing her. ‘You know you’re attractive,’ she answered almost crossly.
    â€˜I do?’ He turned his head and ran a finger down the thick red welt of the scar that came out of his hairline, cut across his temple and sloped crookedly down his cheekbone. ‘This is attractive?’
    Caitlin stared first at the scar, then into his suddenly impenetrably dark eyes. Was there an edge of bitterness? He was insecure about it? When the world knew how he’d got it? What he’d gone through?
    â€˜Your eyes are attractive,’ she said quietly. His eyes were lethal. And they were just the beginning.
    He shook his head, his smile returning but a little twisted. ‘My bank balance is attractive. So is my surname—the family connection. The fame.’
    Fame didn’t make him attractive to her. She knew fame cost—not with the clichéd sweat, but soul. Fame-craving