Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,36

and how much it had moved her and that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of it too.

‘Why does it matter what I think?’ She didn’t have to try to whisper now. Her voice had gone completely husky. ‘This is for Lauren, not me.’

‘She’ll like what you like,’ Brad insisted, stepping closer. ‘Come on, tell me.’

She’d never had lust-in-the-library fantasies. Until now. And right now, all she wanted was for Brad to kiss her again in this quiet, still space.

‘You’ve gone red,’ he said. ‘Was the chilli-chocolate too hot?’

‘Must have been,’ she muttered.

He was looking at her mouth. Could he please stop looking at her mouth? Did she have a huge gob of mousse on her lip? Because he looked as if he wanted to taste, and she wanted him to, very much.

Mya had never felt so hot.

But Brad missed her scorching thoughts. ‘Mint it is, then.’

She nodded. Just. ‘You’ve really got into this,’ she said, trying to pull herself together as he replaced the lids on the pottles and put them back in the bag.

‘I’ve discovered my latent party-planning talent.’ The smallest smile quirked his mouth. He glanced at her and caught her staring. ‘So you’re all set up to bring her?’

‘It’s all sorted.’ Mya nodded. She’d arranged it with Lauren a few days ago. But now that the party was so close, she felt irrationally ill at ease—even unhappy. She’d be glad when it was over, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t sure any more. But the worse feeling was the jealousy—she was envious of how much effort he’d gone to for his sister. Which was just mean of her.

She walked away from him, hiding from his intent gaze, back out to the table she’d been studying at. Hopefully he’d leave right away. But he didn’t. He pulled out the seat next to hers, sat and flipped open his iPad, hooking into the university’s wireless network.

How was she supposed to study now? He didn’t get that when he was around, her brain shut down and all she could think of now was lewd behaviour in the library. She coped for less than five minutes and then she spoke without thinking.

‘Did you ever get it on in the library in your librarian days?’

He shot her a startled look.

‘I mean—’ she felt her blush growing ‘—that’d be the kind of thing you’d have done back then, right?’

She trailed off as his intense look grew. He slowly shook his head.

He hadn’t? Really? She’d have thought that Mr Slayer like him would have … but no. He hadn’t. Nor had she, of course. And now here they were …

Oh, hell, why did that excite her all the more?

She looked at him and decided honesty was the best policy. ‘I can’t concentrate on my study when you’re around,’ she mumbled. ‘At the bar, the café, it’s different. I don’t need to think as hard as I do here. But I can’t think with you …’ She trailed off.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with those penetrating eyes. He hadn’t moved in the past ninety seconds. She wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing. Mya felt even hotter than before but now there was a huge dose of embarrassment twisted into her inner furnace as well. She’d all but admitted she still fancied him. But the fact was now she fancied him more than ever. And he’d gone all buddy on her.

‘Maybe it’s best if we work out any last-minute plans over the phone or something,’ she said quickly, trying to recover. ‘It would be easier, don’t you think?’

Slowly he blinked and then seemed to see straight through her. ‘That’s what you want?’

‘That would be for the best,’ she squeaked.

He remained still for a very long moment, still watching her. And then he whispered, ‘What are you going to wear?’

She froze; like his look, his question breached the boundaries from friendly to intimate—but she’d done that herself already. Now she felt she’d plunged off the edge of a cliff and was swimming in darkness. Who knew which direction the safe beach was? ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Not black,’ he said quietly.

‘Probably.’

‘No,’ he muttered. ‘Give me that at least.’

‘Okay.’ Mya could hardly swallow and her skin was doing that hot-and-cold tingly thing again. ‘You’ve done such a great job,’ she said softly, aiming for that conversation-closing platitude—that she meant with all her being. ‘She’s going to be so thrilled.’

‘You think?’ His smile lanced her heart. ‘I hope so.’

Suddenly he stood, not pausing to pack away his