was waiting in the hallway.
After I finished getting dressed, I scooped up the other clothes, the ones I'd taken off before getting into the shower. Hoping to hide them from prying eyes, I wadded them up into the smallest ball possible and tucked them under my arm.
And then, I reached for my cell phone, only to receive yet another nasty surprise. My phone – it was gone.
Frantically, I scanned the bathroom, but it was no use. I'd placed it right there on the far side of the sink. And now, it quite simply wasn't there.
Terrific. Obviously, the stranger had swiped it when I hadn't been looking.
Through the bathroom door, I called out, "Hey! Where's my phone?"
The stranger replied, "You've gotta ask?"
"So you do have it?"
"Hell yeah."
"Why?" I demanded.
"Why do you think?"
Because you're a jerk, that's why. Through gritted teeth, I said, "Do you seriously want me to answer that?"
He paused, as if thinking. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't care," he said. "Are you dressed?"
"Maybe."
"Good," he said. "Now open the door."
For a whole host of reasons, I didn't want to. The thought of actually facing him was more than a little scary – and not only because of the gun.
When I made no reply, the guy spoke again. "You know you've got to come out eventually, right?"
"Why?" I scoffed. "So you can shoot me?"
"If I wanted to shoot you," he said, "I would've done it already."
Well, that was comforting. Sort of.
I called back, "And why do you have a gun in the first place?"
"Listen," he said, "gun or no gun, we both know I could come in any time I want. So cut the crap and open up already."
Damn it. He was right. The bathroom had no windows, and it's not like I could call anyone to rescue me. And even if I could, who would come?
In the end, I decided I might as well get it over with. Bracing myself, I sucked in a deep breath, reached for the knob, and yanked open the door.
And there he was – looking even better, now that we were standing face-to-face.
His dark hair was a damp, tousled mess, and his T-shirt was still wet. The thin white cotton clung to his chest and abs, showing off muscular pecs and a perfect six-pack just above his tattered jeans.
As for his face, it was pure perfection, with nice cheekbones, a rugged jaw, and dark, brooding eyes.
At the sight of him, my pulse jumped, and my spine grew twitchy. I could hardly breathe, but not because he was so stupidly gorgeous.
It was because – son-of-a bitch – I knew him.
Now, it was my turn to say it, even if only in my own head. Fuck.
Chapter 5
Arden
To my infinite horror, I was staring into the hard gaze of Broderick Blastoviak – aka Brody Blast, a guy I'd known back in high school.
We had a history, and it wasn't terrific.
In school, he'd been a total trouble-maker through-and-through. Cocky. Obnoxiously brilliant. And too dangerous by half.
Unlike me, he never, ever followed the rules – and yet, he never seemed to pay for it.
That dickweed had cost me a full-ride scholarship. He was the reason I'd been working two jobs to pay for college, even while taking on far too many student loans.
In a roundabout way, this also meant that he was the reason I hadn't been able to purchase this house on my own, back when I'd had the chance three years ago.
I freaking hated him.
And boy, did he hate me, too.
Even if I hadn't known this already, the look in his eyes would've been proof enough.
I sputtered, "What are you doing here?"
He gave me a look. "You mean in my house?"
"Oh come on!" I said. "It can't be your house. There's no furniture. And besides, why would you want to live here? Don't you have houses all over the place already?"
This wasn't as far-fetched as you'd think. Brilliant or not, Brody hadn't gone to college. Instead, he'd founded a tool-and-die company with his two older brothers and then proceeded to take the market by storm.
These days, Blast Tools – that was the name of their company – was famously successful, just like the company's three founders.
And I meant "famous" quite literally.
A few years ago, by some miracle, the brothers had gotten themselves a weekly cable show on the Home Network, where they used their own tools to remodel older homes or sometimes build new ones.
And just for the record, they looked very good doing it.
By now, they were total