Get a Clue(4)

By: Jill Shalvis

Storm of the century. That couldn’t be good. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard other disturbing words, such as “No one is going anywhere, folks” and “I hope you’re all stocked up on whatever you need, because this one’s a doozy.” At that, she twisted the handle on the door and pushed it open.

The bathroom was as amazingly detailed as the rest of the house. Even through all the thick steam, she could see the stunning granite countertops, the raw wood-framed mirrors, the small overstuffed day couch, the old-fashioned brass fixtures—

And yet another gift basket, filled with more goodies. She looked at the vibrator she still had in her hand. What else could she possibly need? Well, besides a new groom, that is. A shame they didn’t come a dime a dozen in a gift basket such as this, selection ready.

The shower took up one full corner, all in clear glass, etched with the outline of the Sierras, which in fact did nothing at all to hide the tall, leanly muscled man standing in it.


Gloriously so, she might add. The water sprayed out of four different rain heads, massaging over him. He had his back to her, and what a fine back it was: broad, ropey shoulders, sleek, strong spine, smooth and tanned until, low on his narrow hips, his tan line abruptly ended.

He had a fabulous, mouthwatering butt, and Breanne took a moment to wonder at the man who wore a bathing suit in the sun but not underwear beneath his jeans.

Water sluiced off him, and soap, too, and then, as if God had decided to bestow one tiny little favor on her shitty, rotten day, the guy dropped the soap.

Breanne held her breath. Would he—

Yes. Yes, he would.

Bending for it, blissfully unaware that there were a pair of very curious female eyes on him, he clearly didn’t even consider his modesty. Every muscle in his body flexed as he doubled over, legs slightly spread, offering her an eye-popping view of his—

Oh, my.

Lifting her hand, she furiously fanned air to her face, because the front of him lived up to the back, and how. She wondered how old he was, thinking that body couldn’t be more than thirty, which was only two years older than herself. In any case, she stood there, rooted to the ground, her own wet misery forgotten, mouth hanging open, drool pooling, eyes locked on the backs of his well-defined thighs.

And what was between them.

But then suddenly he whipped around, staring at her through the glass for one beat before shoving open the shower door, allowing steam and water to pour into the room as he glared at her with an ominous, thunderstruck expression on his face.

More than thirty, she thought inanely. Probably, given those laugh lines bracketing his unsmiling mouth, and startling sky-blue eyes, at least thirty-five.

Not that age mattered, with a majorly heart-stopping body like his.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, looking tough and clearly ready to prove it.

And that’s when her brain kicked back into gear and reminded her of her situation. She was in a strange house. In a strange bathroom, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rugged mountain peaks and more snow than she’d ever seen.

And she was staring at a furious, naked guy. “Um—”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I—” She glanced at the neon-pink vibrator in her hand and felt every single brain cell desert her.

“Get out.”

Yeah. On that, they were perfectly in sync, thank you very much. She might have a secret weak spot for an edgy, difficult bad boy, but she absolutely did not have a weak spot for being stupid.

Whirling, she dropped the vibrator and ran. She ran like hell through the open bathroom door, slamming it behind her to give her an extra second on him.

He’d told her to get out, so chances were that he wasn’t planning on chasing her, but she’d rather be safe than sorry. She hightailed it through the bedroom, leaping over his clothes, moving more quickly in her ruined boots than she’d moved in . . . well, a very long time.

Behind her the bathroom door whipped open.

Oh, God.

He was in pursuit and he was quick.

With a startled squeak, she sped up, thinking no one back home would believe she could ever move this fast, not even to save her life.

“Wait!” that low, almost gravelly voice called out. “Who are you?”

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