Slammed Read Free Page B

the pink flush that tinted her cheeks.
    She half-turned away and folded her arms across her chest. “Put some clothes on. Please.”
    “Meh.” He sauntered over to the bar in the corner and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He had no problem being naked. “I’m good. Would you like one?” He held up the cold bottle.
    She glanced over at him, then did that little straighten of her slender shoulders again and turned to face him, although keeping her eyes on his face. “No thanks.”
    He leaned casually against the bar and guzzled down half the bottle of icy cold brew. Damn, that was good. “So what’s up, buttercup?” he said, lifting one eyebrow.
    Her mouth tightened. “I really think this conversation is one you want to have with your clothes on.”
    Alarm bells went off in his head. “What conversation is that, sweetheart?”
    “Please don’t call me sweetheart. This is business. Fine, if you want to do this here and now, let’s do it.” She drew in a breath and looked up at the ceiling briefly. “Head office sent me to talk to you about your recent conduct.”
    “My conduct?” His insides contracted.
    “Yes. Your exploits have made it into the news, which has gotten back to the executives at Jackson Cole. They are not pleased, to put it mildly.”
    He kept his face neutral. He hoped. “What ‘exploits’ would those be?” he asked, his voice bland.
    “Things like group sex in the middle of the afternoon.”
    He narrowed his eyes at her again and lifted the bottle. “Hey. We were in the privacy of my bungalow and you came barging in. What I do on my own time in my own bedroom is my business.”
    Her cheeks pinkened again and those dark eyes flashed sparks. He wanted to grin. Yet somehow he knew this wasn’t going to be funny.
    “Other things then,” she conceded. “The drunken partying. The orgies that people do know about. The dope-smoking and nudity on the beach. We’ve managed to smooth things over with the media on some of the other things you’ve done, not the least of which was being arrested for that Quantas Flight having to turn back to Sydney.”
    His back teeth ground together a little at the mention of that. Yeah, that hadn’t been one of his more epic moments, even he had to admit. It had all just been in fun, a little flirting with the flight attendants, and yeah, he’d had a few beers, but Jesus, they’d totally overreacted by turning the plane around. It wasn’t as if he was dangerous, for fuck’s sake.
    Suddenly being naked didn’t feel quite so comfortable, and he set down the beer on the bar and reached for the board shorts draped over the nearby chair. He stepped into them and quickly tied them loose and low on his hips.
    Brooke’s gaze dropped briefly once more, tracking over his abs and the shorts, then jerked back up to his face. “For God’s sake, take those off,” she snapped.
    “Uh…” He gave his head a little shake. “Okay, sure sweetheart, but I thought you wanted me dressed.”
    “Those are Billabong shorts!” she snapped. “You can’t be seen wearing the competition! Do you have some kind of death wish, or what?”
    Her words made his insides leap and he stared at her.
    “Where did you get those anyway?” she demanded. “Why would you even have them?”
    He looked down at them blankly. “I don’t know where I got them,” he said shortly, fingers fumbling with the ties. He let them drop to the floor, kicked them aside and strode over to the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts. He had a fucking hundred pairs of them and he was pretty sure most of them were Jackson Cole. He stepped into the shorts, this pair a black and white flowered pattern. He picked up the offending garment and held it over the waste basket, catching her eye and then dropping it in.
    “That’s better,” she said. “Geez.”
    “My deepest apologies,” he said in a dry voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Who knew my nudity would be