Over the Faery Hill - Jennifer L. Hart Page 0,74

light as though it had been freshly painted. Not my bedroom in the Victorian. Not the dingy apartment George and I had shared.

Where was I?

Slowly, trying to avoid any quick movement that would increase my pain, I pushed my body upright. There were two windows where the bay should have been and no bench seat. Instead, a cushy looking floral armchair with a matching ottoman sat in the far corner. There were a pair of pants draped over it.

Specifically, male pants. The matching suit jacket peeked out from beneath.

A soft snore alerted me that I wasn’t alone.

Heart hammering, I turned my head to face the other side of the bed. It was occupied. The covers were drawn up to my bed companion’s waist and I could see a well developed and naked male back that rose and fell in the steady rhythm of a sleeping person.

“Robin?” I whispered but immediately dismissed it. My bedmate’s hair was a medium brown, not the faery’s golden locks.

Okay, Joey. Do not panic, The sensible shrew urged.

She was right. I couldn’t scream just because I’d awoken with a strange man in my bed. I needed to find out who he was. Then I could scream.

Doing my level best not to jostle the mattress, I slipped out from beneath the covers. And nearly shrieked when the cold air slapped my skin. Instead of my cozy long pajamas, I wore a skimpy black lace nighty. What was I, insane? No one wore this sort of garb in the mountains in the winter, not even as underwear.

I scanned the room for a bathrobe but didn’t see one. There was a burgundy throw on the ottoman so I snatched that up and wrapped it around myself. A quick scan of the room revealed a long white antique dresser with bottles of lotion and various perfumes spread out over it. A flat-screen television was mounted in the corner and beyond that—thank you, universe—a bathroom.

I tiptoed inside and shut the door. The aches and pains were forgotten as I spun to face my reflection in the mirror.

The first thing I noticed was the mess of bandages covering my face. Only my eyes and lips were visible beneath the gauzy swaddling. Um, the hell?

My gaze drifted down and my breath caught. The blanket fell to the ground, forgotten.

I was thin!

Well, thinner. Nowhere near my sixteen-year-old gymnast self but still a far cry from the plush version of me that Alina had called fat. No wonder I was parading around in a skimpy nightgown. A body this fit needed to be showed off, like all the freaking time.

I tried to smile but it hurt and once more I glanced at the bandages covering my face. What was up with that? And as thrilled as I was to be thin, it seemed odd that I would bother with the skimpy lingerie while sporting mummy wrap over my face. I raised a shaking hand to touch my nose, then paused, studying my wrist. No surgical scars marred the smooth tan flesh.

And how was I tan in the winter anyway? Maybe I’d traveled to some Caribbean island for a few weeks. I’d always wanted to do that, a booze and cruise, maybe with Darcy.

Out in the bedroom, an alarm clock blared to life. I yelped and then stuffed a fist in my mouth to belatedly muffle the sound.

“Jo?” A man’s voice called.

Should I answer him? I didn’t even know who he was. Damn it, where was Robin when I needed him?

The bathroom door opened and I squeaked as the man appeared, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. No. My jaw dropped. It can’t be.

But it was.

“There you are. You forgot to shut your alarm off.” Pete Green stretched, showing off his well-defined abs and pecs. My gaze drifted lower as I saw he had the quintessential morning boner.

My hand flew to my mouth, checking for drool. Pete Green stood there, in the bathroom, with me. And he had a freaking hard-on.

He was still looking at me, obviously waiting for an answer.

“Sorry,” Through sheer force of will, I dragged my gaze back to his face. “I was just….” The words stalled out and I waved as though I could conjure the appropriate end to the sentence out of thin air.

“Is it hurting?” He moved closer as though to inspect.

I slammed my ass up against the counter, leaning as far away from him as I could. “A little.” Maybe he knew what happened to me.

He shook

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