Falling for the Guy Next Door(8)

By: Claire Robyns



Suddenly his jeans were an inch too tight and he had trouble focusing as Harry explained, “Actually, this isn’t a social call. I’ve been called out by a concerned citizen.”

“Concerned citizen?” He pulled his gaze off Megan and onto Harry. “What?”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Megan thinks you’re running a brothel.”

Jack tried to stop the laughter chortling up his throat. He didn’t succeed. “I should be so lucky.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Harry said, grinning.

“You’re supposed to be here in an official capacity,” she reminded Harry in a frosty voice.

Jack’s gaze returned to Megan and the indignant fury staining her cheeks. She’d never blushed prettily. How long had she been home? How many girls had she seen come and go? And was she serious about this accusation?

His humour faded and irritation took its place. What the hell was going on inside her head?

He waved a hand to invite them both further inside. “Up the stairs, first door on your right. I believe that’s where you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Harry’s grin flattened. “Now, Jack, I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

“Since accusations have been cast, I must insist,” he said mildly. He angled his body to give the man a wink that Megan couldn’t see. “Wouldn’t want any lingering rumours to bite me in the arse when I’m not looking.”

When Megan held back, he grabbed her arm and guided her up the stairs before him.

“Where are we going?” she yelped.

“The bedroom, of course.”

She dug her heels in on the stairs runner and glared over her shoulder at him. “I refuse to enter—to enter that—that…”

“Den of evil?” he suggested smoothly. “Hive of sin?”

He hadn’t thought it possible for her cheeks to get any redder, but they were close to glowing now.

“Yes, I read that book,” he said softly, his hands landing on her waist to lift her up the next step. “I won’t say I’ll be trading in thrillers for romance any day soon, but there were one or two fascinating scenes.”

“I hate you,” she hissed, slapping his hands from her waist.

His eyes roamed over the tight black pants that curved deliciously over her snug backside and tapered down long, shapely legs. He knew exactly how to turn that I hate you on its head. Heat simmered through his veins and fed into a lazy grin. He froze the thought and his grin flattened into a grimace.

He’d hurt her and nothing had changed; he hadn’t changed. Megan was different from his usual women. She needed more than he’d ever be able to give. He’d known that from the start. One moment of weakness, and he’d screwed up big time. Wasn’t going to happen again.

Okay, the flirting wasn’t helping. That crack about a private tour was totally out of line. Megan was hot-wired to his blood. Always had been. She triggered impulses that bypassed his brain and shot straight to his groin, but look how badly that had played out.

Game over.

He was here to pack up Frank’s things and sort out the house.

At the top of the stairs, she turned a hard look on him before jerking her head forward again and disappearing around the corner.

The iciness behind her fury stuck in his gut. Jack admitted then and there that maybe Megan Lane topped his list of reasons for being here. But to fix his last mistake, not make new ones.

Their friendship deserved a more graceful ending than the knock it had taken.

Except, she seemed to think him the kind of guy who’d sleep his way through the teenage population of Corkscrew Bay.

Hell, she’d called the police on him.

He didn’t even know what to do with that. And this time, he knew he’d done nothing wrong.

He stopped inside the master bedroom to turn the music down before catching up to Harry and Megan as they reached the door of the guest room. He pushed between them, deciding work was safer than trying to reason with her right now. He’d only regret whatever came out of his mouth and when it came to him and Megan, he already had one regret too many.

Suzie, draped in a dramatic pose over the armchair with one hand scooping her hair from her face and her chin balanced on the other, looked over their heads to him. “I haven’t moved a muscle.”

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