Tangling With Ty. Jill Shalvis

of course. Ornery as you are, you’ll need us to stick by you. So go. Go work yourself to exhaustion again. Enjoy.”

      “I will, thanks.” Half amused at the genuine compassion and worry that she’d seen on Taylor’s face, she turned back to face Ty. “Don’t let the door get you on the ass on your way out. I’m taking a shower.”

      “Maybe you’d better take your caffeine with you.” He held out a mug of coffee.

      “Thanks.” Grateful but not about to admit it, Nicole held on to the sheet for dear life and hobbled into the bathroom. She shut the door harder than she should have, and clicked the lock into place with what sounded like a gunshot.

      She might have had to wake up with an audience, then eat with one, but hell if she’d shower in front of one, no matter how pretty he was.

      Still, the hot steam worked wonders, and she stayed there for a good long time, until the hot water turned warm, then tepid. Finally, she stepped out and sighed.

      Damn, she’d been looking forward to a day off.

      There was one dry towel left on the rack, which meant she needed to seriously consider the pile of things behind her bedroom door as well as the pile now on her floor, both of which she so lovingly referred to as Laundry Mountain Range. Tucking the towel beneath her armpits, she studied herself impassively in the mirror.

      Not bad, she’d give herself that. And though she’d prefer to be taller than so damn short, her bones weren’t bad either. Thanks to her workouts, she was a lean, mean, fighting machine.

      But breasts would have been nice.

      Laughing at herself, she turned away. What would she have done with cleavage? It wasn’t as if she had dates lining up.

      Still smiling, she opened the door and marched into her bedroom, dropping her towel as she went.

      Because she had excellent eyesight, she therefore had a front-and-center view of Ty sitting on her bed, holding a glass of orange juice.

      He had a front-and-center view, too. Of her.

      The glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor in tune with her shriek as she bent down for her towel. “What are you doing?”

      “I…”

      Straightening, she studiously avoided looking into his face as she refastened the towel. “I thought you left!”

      “Yeah, I…”

      “You said that already!”

      Ty knew that, but he was still flummoxed by the sight of her tight, lean body all dewy and damp from her shower. Standing now, he wasn’t reassured by the fact his knees wobbled.

      What was wrong with him? She wasn’t his usual type, meaning stacked and blond and soft. There was nothing soft about Nicole, not her tough, angular body, not her voice, and most definitely not her eyes.

      So why couldn’t he stop thinking dirty little thoughts? Or take his eyes off her? “Sorry. I just wanted to be sure you at least drank some juice.”

      “Can’t do that now, can I?” With jerky movements, she tightened the towel even further over her breasts.

      Breasts that he now knew were a perfect handful, tipped with tight rose-colored nipples. Somehow he managed to walk to her, lift her chin and look into her furious and…damn it, very embarrassed, eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated softly.

      “Yeah.”

      He gazed at her grim mouth, and unbidden, his thoughts turned to kissing her until she was soft and pliant, until she sighed and gave herself over to him and the pleasure he could give her. He, Ty Patrick O’Grady, no-good bastard, black-heart. “You should know I’m attracted to you in a way I can’t quite seem to get over.”

      “And yet you’ve seen me naked. Imagine that.”

      She didn’t believe him. He sucked in a breath and inhaled the scent of her shampoo and ridiculously, his body reacted.

      Perfect.

      Now all his thinking had taken him to a place he had no business going, not with this woman. She wasn’t the type to put up with a man afflicted with a serious sense of wanderlust, a man who never knew when he was going to decide to up and relocate.

      Hell, he’d never found any woman, on this continent or otherwise, who’d put up with that.

      Not that he wanted one to.

      “You’re beautiful, Nicole,” he heard himself say as he stroked a finger over her cheek, her jaw. “So damn beautiful.”

      It wasn’t until he got down the stairs and into his car that he let out the breath he’d been holding and stared off at nothing.

      He’d meant what he’d said. He was attracted to her in a way he couldn’t get past. And she was beautiful, with or without that mouthwatering body and all that creamy, creamy skin exposed. So damned beautiful he ached.

      Not a good thing, not a good thing at all.