Blame It on the Bikini by Natalie Anderson Page A

turned and met her eyes. ‘No such thing as balance with you, is there?’
    ‘I have to do what I have to do. And I’m not into the casual-sex scene.’ She cleared her throat, trying to hold the blush at bay as she remembered that mortifying morning. ‘I learned that too. I don’t want a fling. But nor do I want a relationship right now. I have too much else to do.’
    ‘All or nothing,’ he murmured.
    ‘Right now it’s nothing,’ she confirmed.
    He looked at her, brown eyes serious. ‘Okay.’ He held her gaze. ‘Message received loud and clear.’
    She said nothing. He turned back to the computer and pulled the list of cases nearer. Mya watched his fingers fly over the keyboard. Serious, focused.
    That was it? She’d told him as explicitly as she could that she didn’t want an affair and he just accepted it?
    Because here was the thing—she was still totally hot for the guy. How could he be so focused when she was dying of desire? She’d gone for honesty and he’d taken it. He’d backed right off. But instead of feeling any kind of relief, she felt more wound up. She’d been so sure he’d make some kind of move. She’d been so sure she’d say no. Only there were no moves from him, and only yeses and pleases circling in her head.
    She couldn’t believe her madness. Her brain had been lost somewhere between here and the bar.
    He stood and picked up the pages as they came out of the printer and put highlighters and sticky notes infront of her. She almost laughed. It seemed the guy was as much of a stationery addict as she was.
    ‘It’s all vital for doing an assignment.’ He winked. ‘I’m off to make you some coffee while you get started.’
    He’d left the documents open on screen so she could cut and paste quotes as necessary. Hell, he’d even opened up a documents file, named for her, and saved the other cases he’d downloaded. She stared at them, not taking in a word, just waiting.
    Five minutes later he put the steaming mug in front of her and stayed on the other side of the desk.
    ‘I’m turning in now. There’s more coffee in the machine in the kitchen, fruit in the bowl, chocolate on hand too. Stay as late as you like. Don’t go walking out there at some stupid hour of the morning.’
    ‘I can’t stay the whole night.’ There was just no way.
    ‘It’ll probably take you all night to get the assignment done anyway. No point in taking unnecessary risks.’ He walked back to the doorway in jeans and tee—she noticed his feet were now bare.
    ‘Thanks,’ she said rustily. ‘Really appreciate this.’ And was so disappointed when he disappeared down the hallway.
    She stared at the screen. All this info was at her fingertips. All she had to do was read, assimilate, process, write. It wasn’t that hard. She’d done enough essays to know what her lecturers wanted and what it was she needed to get that extra half grade.
    But the house was silent.
    Acutely aware of his presence under the roof, she sat stupidly still, listening for sounds of him. Imagining going to find him—imagining sliding into that mountainous cloud of a bed and …
    She’d pushed him away and it had worked. For him. She still wanted what she couldn’t have and with that she’d lost her ability to concentrate. That was a first. She glanced at the big printer on the table behind her. Half a tree’s worth of paper and twenty minutes later she was ready to leave.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he asked just as she’d tiptoed to the front door.
    She whirled around. What was she doing? What was he doing standing there almost completely bare? Only a pair of boxer shorts preserved his modesty and even then they were that knit-cotton variety that clung rather than hung loose. And speaking of things being hung …
    She burned. ‘I can’t work here.’ It was a pathetic whisper.
    ‘You’re sneaking out.’ He crossed his arms. It only emphasised his biceps. It was so unfair of him to have such a fit body.
    ‘I