There's Something About a Rebel- Read Free Page B

More dignified to acquiesce with whatever grace she could summon up.
    ‘Fine, then,’ she said crisply, over her shoulder as she turned and walked to her bedroom.
‘You
stay here and keep an eye on things.’
    ‘I intend to.’ His voice boomed down the narrow passage.
    Oh. Really? Obviously this superhero was immune to the dangers he’d so helpfully pointed out. Well, that suited her fine. She had enough problems without adding gorgeous male to the list.
    She plucked the jeans and the T-shirt she’d worn today from the bottom of the bed, considered changing but decided against it. Stripping now with him only a few steps away would put her in a vulnerable situation, and she knew all too much about vulnerable situations.
    ‘So, what, storms bounce off you, then?’ shetossed back, grabbing basic toiletries and shoving them in a carry-all.
    No reply from the other end of the boat but she could almost hear him:
I can look after myself.
    And she couldn’t? She hurried back to the kitchen with her gear and came to a breathless stop a few steps away from him. Breathless because the impact of seeing him standing in her small living space all distant dark protector sucked her breath clean away. No, not all dark, she noted, because his eyes were cool, cool blue.
    But they were still barriers. And he was still the intense brooding Blake she remembered from all those years ago. ‘I’m not that helpless little thirteen-year-old any more.’ Her cheeks stung with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to remind him.
    A muscle tightened in his jaw and his gaze flickered over her, the merest glint of heat in the cool. ‘I’m better off alone. That way I don’t have to worry about you slipping and breaking a leg and drowning in the process.’
    ‘I
do
know how to swim.’ She thought vaguely that she’d like to sketch him now, with the lines of maturity settled around his mouth, around his eyes. Those sharp planes and angles of cheekbones and jaw—
    He shook his head. ‘You may not be helpless but I’m betting you’re as stubborn as ever,’ he muttered.
    Stubborn? ‘How would you know
how
I was?’ She could do cool too. Iceberg-cool. ‘I didn’t exist to you.’ She stepped away. Turned to the bunk beds against the wall. ‘But yes, I’m very stubborn where my work’s concerned. I have merchandise here I need to protect from the weather. should anything happen.’
    ‘I’ll take care of it.’
    ‘Nice offer, but I don’t want it to get wet.’ She dragged a couple of plastic storage containers from beneath the lower bunk. ‘If you really insist on this … evacuation … all of this has to be stored and brought to the house.’
    ‘All?’ He sounded doubtful. ‘Do you really need it
all?’
    ‘Every last fabric swatch. My work depends on it. I’m an interior designer.’ Unemployed interior designer at present, but he didn’t need to know that.
    ‘Come on, then, let me give you a hand.’
    ‘Fine,’ she clipped, packing the containers swiftly, anxious not to have him too close. His proximity was unnerving her; his musky warm scent was making her itch. ‘If you could get those sketch pads.’ She waved him away. ‘There are plastic bags …’
    It took them a few minutes to pack everything up.
    ‘I’ll bring the rest up to the house after we’ve got you settled.’ He had to raise his voice above the rain drumming overhead.
    Settled?
Hardly. She straightened, a container beneath one arm, her carry-all over a shoulder. If he wanted to play Mr Protector, so long as her stuff was safe from rain, she’d put up with it.
    ‘Thanks.’ Said grudgingly. She really did
not
want his assistance. Slipping into her rubber thong sandals by the back door, she slid the glass open and stepped onto the deck. A torrent of water slammed into her where it should be dry and she glanced up at the flapping canvas. She might not want his help, but she was forced to admit she needed it.
    She stepped onto the jetty, Blake