Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,5

laughing at her?

‘I definitely haven’t got it,’ Lauren warbled on. ‘But I’m glad you rang because I haven’t seen you in …’

Mya zoned out from Lauren, remembering the rush in the change room, the way she’d been giggling and not concentrating, the way her fingers had slipped over the screen …

No. Please no.

Lauren’s voice and the noise from the bar all but disappeared, as if she’d dived into a swimming pool and could hear only muted, warped sound. Her stunned brain slowly cranked through the facts while the rest of her remained locked in the heat of his gaze.

Her contacts list automatically defaulted to alphabetical order. She’d never deleted all the contacts already on it either—and it was an old phone of Lauren’s. No doubt her brother’s number had been programmed in a long, long time ago. And B came before L. So first in the phone list?

Davenport. Brad Davenport.

CHAPTER TWO

MYA ignored the fact that Lauren was still babbling in her ear and jabbed the phone, shutting it down. She shoved it back in her pocket and tossed her head to get her fringe out of her eyes. ‘It seems my phone’s died,’ she said with exaggerated effervescence. ‘Can I borrow yours?’

Brad’s silent chuckle became a quick, audible burst before he summoned the control to answer. ‘Really?’

She nodded vehemently, pretending she couldn’t feel the rhythmic vibrating against her thigh.

‘But your phone is ringing.’

Yeah, there was no pretending she couldn’t hear the shrill squawks over the beat of the bar music.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s a recording of dolphins talking to each other,’ she answered brightly before hitting him with a bald-faced lie. ‘But while my ringer is working, the person on the other end can’t hear me.’

‘Maybe you hit mute.’

‘Look, can I use it?’ She dropped all pretence at perky and spoke flatly. Oh, she wanted to curl into a ball and roll behind a rock. Now. This was why he was here tonight. What had he thought? Surely he hadn’t thought the picture was meant for him and he’d come to her? As if she’d called him?

Mya bit back hysterical laughter. Teen Mya would have loved Brad Davenport to hunt her down for a hookup. Adult Mya had learned to avoid sharks. And of all the people she had to mistakenly send a picture to, it had to be her best friend’s brother? Her best friend’s completely gorgeous, speed-through-a-million-sexual-partners brother?

Brad held her gaze captive with his warm, amused one. ‘But my phone cost a lot of money and I don’t like the way you’re holding that glass of water. I don’t think my phone can survive the depths.’

Was the guy a mind-reader? Of course she wanted to drown the thing—she’d drown Brad himself if she could. Or better still, herself.

How could she have made such a mistake? This ranked as the most mortifying moment of her life. Why had she gone with the scarlet bikini with the see-through sides?

‘How come you have my number anyway?’ he asked lazily, confirming the worst.

‘This was an old phone of Lauren’s.’ Mya groaned. ‘She passed it on to me.’

‘One of the ones she lost and made Dad replace?’

Hell, that would be right. For a while there Lauren had made her father pay—literally. ‘She told me he’d given her a new one and she didn’t need this one any more.’ She didn’t like the frown in Brad’s eyes.

Yeah, she was the bad influence, wasn’t she? The one who came from the wrong side of the tracks to lead Lauren astray. Did he think she abused her relationship with Lauren to get things? Lauren’s parents had thought that. Indeed, Lauren had tried to give Mya things. Mya had refused to take most of them. The little she had, she’d hidden from her own parents. She didn’t want them feeling bad that they couldn’t afford those kinds of gifts—indeed any. Even then Lauren had tricked her into taking this phone and she’d taken nothing since.

And now? Now there was no dignity left in this situation. ‘Would you please delete it?’ she asked. Yeah, begging already.

‘Never.’

Incredibly, his instant laughing response melted her but she couldn’t be flattered by this. She just couldn’t. ‘It wasn’t meant for you.’

‘More’s the pity,’ he said softly. ‘Do you often text pictures of yourself in underwear to your friends?’

‘It wasn’t underwear,’ she said indignantly.

His chin lifted and the sound of his laughter rang out, crashing and curling over her like a wave of warmth. ‘It’s a bra.’

But Mya couldn’t float in that tempting sea.