Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,55

Your problem is that not only are you studying, you’re working two jobs. That’s not a normal workload.’

‘In my world it happens all the time. You do what you have to do.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to do that much.’

‘I do if I need to eat.’

‘Why not let me help you?’

She whirled away from him. ‘You don’t need to help me. All I want from you is—’

‘Yeah, okay. I got it.’ He didn’t want to hear what little she wanted from him. He’d made the bed. But now the bed wasn’t enough for him.

What was wrong with him? He’d never turned down sex. Ever. If a pretty woman was offering, he was on it. Easy come, easy go and a good time had by both.

She’d wanted to ravish him, and he’d lain there like a log. And ironically harder than a piece of petrified wood. He’d definitely come down with some kind of mind-altering fever. And now she was halfway down the hallway again.

‘You’re not leaving,’ he stated, striding after her.

‘I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.’

‘You’re wanted. You know you’re wanted. All you have to do is look at me to know you’re wanted.’

‘That’s just a normal state of being for you.’

White-hot fury ripped through him because this was not normal for him.

She turned in time to read his expression and suddenly shook her head. ‘Don’t make this complicated.’ She kept backing up the hallway. ‘I think I’ll spend tonight at my place. Catch up on my beauty sleep.’ A pointed look. ‘And I need to get to my parents’ place early in the morning. We can get together next week.’

He caught up to her in a couple of quick strides. He pulled her against him and kissed her until she was panting. And so was he.

‘You couldn’t look more beautiful than you do right now,’ he said.

When her attention was riveted on him. When desire filled her eyes and blood pounded in her lips and she was seconds off breathing his name.

But that hurt look in her eyes grew—dimming that light. ‘You just don’t like me walking out on you right now. But you started it.’

‘What I don’t like is how hard you’re working. Why not work smarter instead of harder?’

‘What is that piece of management-mag speak supposed to mean?’

‘Get just one job. A better job. Get an internship at a firm.’

She shook her head.

‘You could clerk for me over the summer.’ It was the worst thing to suggest; he knew it before he’d even opened his mouth but he couldn’t stop the words.

‘I’m not a charity case. I’m tired of charity. I want to do it myself. I want to deserve it myself.’

‘You do deserve it,’ he argued, his volume lifting along with his frustration. ‘You’re super smart. You’ve got amazing grades. Any firm would want you.’

‘You only do because of this … connection,’ she said. ‘It’s the sexual equivalent of the old boys’ network. Only because you know me. I’d rather send my CV out and get a job on my own merit.’

‘Okay, fine. Will you send your CV to my firm?’

‘Of course not.’

‘So you’re doing the opposite. Because we do know each other, you won’t work with me?’

‘We couldn’t. I couldn’t.’

‘Why not? We’d make a great team.’

She just stared at him.

‘Everybody makes connections, Mya,’ he said, his body clenched with frustration. Wanting to shake sense into her some way or another and knowing already that he was doomed to failure. She was so damn obstinate. ‘That’s why they have networking groups. Young lawyers, young farmers, young fashion designers. People have mentors. It’s normal.’

‘You set up on your own,’ she argued. ‘You turned your back on any help your father could offer.’

He drew a hard breath. ‘You know I had my reasons for that. And I still had help. I might have turned my back on my father’s help, but I still had his name.’ He sighed. ‘And to be honest I know that helped. It helped that I had money.’

‘It helped more that you’d won all the prizes in your year at university. Your own merit, Brad. I want to do the same.’

‘I still had help,’ he ground out through his teeth, hating to have to admit it, but knowing it was the truth.

‘Well, I’ll get my lecturer to write a reference or something.’

‘So it’s just me you won’t accept help from?’

‘I’m not using our personal relationship for professional gain.’

‘So we have a relationship.’ He pounced.

‘No,’ she denied instantly, swallowing hard. ‘This is a fling.