ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED. Marina Adair

parts tingling like champagne bubbles on the tongue. “What am I doing, Anh?”

      “Trying to rattle me!”

      “I have that effect on women.” His voice was rough with sleep—as if he’d spent the earlier part of the night sharing long, hot, drugging kisses.

      “Not this woman. I’m not rattled at all,” she lied. “So sorry, your big plan to make me leave won’t work.”

      “Actually, I—”

      “May I finish?”

      “Continue,” he said, looking so unrattled it rattled her more.

      “What you did was shitty. It’s not as if my night hasn’t already been crappy enough. You knew I was frustrated and tired and, well—hurt.” The admission caught her off guard, but she decided to own it. “Yes, I was hurt and embarrassed, and to make it all worse, I discovered a stranger was, rudely, eavesdropping on a very difficult conversation. So I went to bed to lick my wounds in private and sleep because, well, because . . .”

      “You are frustrated and tired and hurt,” he prompted.

      “Frustrated and tired, no longer hurt. Now I’m mad. At you!” She stabbed a finger in his direction.

      “Me?” he asked as if finding this all incredibly entertaining.

      “Yes, you! I am needed at the hospital very early, and you felt it necessary to come home and slam every cabinet in the kitchen. If you wanted to make a big enough ruckus to wake me, then well done, Emmitt Bradley, well done.” She ended with a mocking slow clap.

      “I didn’t mean to wake you. And for that, I’m sorry. I also wasn’t aware you had to work early, or I would have been quieter.”

      Admittedly, she was a little thrown by his sincere apology. “I don’t actually have to work early. One of my patients is going in for gallbladder surgery tomorrow and she doesn’t have any relatives on this coast, so I offered to be there when she woke up.”

      “Do you offer this kind of bedside service to all your patients?” he asked softly. No teasing, no goading, and absolutely no boyish innuendo. Just a tender look in his eye that she hadn’t seen before.

      “Just the special ones,” she said, but didn’t move, a sudden shyness taking over.

      He let her comment hang in the air, then gave her the tiniest of smiles, which had her looking away.

      “As for the cabinets, again I apologize. I came home with a splitting headache, and since all my things, including my painkillers, were locked in the bedroom, I went in search of my backups, which used to be over the sink. Imagine my surprise when I found a small warehouse of scented candles in their place. It seems while I’ve been gone, someone’s reorganized my kitchen.”

      “Oh,” Annie said, now aware of how furrowed his forehead became when he spoke or moved, as if tensing it in anticipation of pain. Had she completely misjudged the situation? “I thought you were just being a jerk.”

      “I’m surprised, Goldilocks.” He placed an affronted hand to his chest. “I took you for someone who looked beneath the cover before passing judgment.”

      It was the second time he’d said as much tonight, which had her reconsidering if, perhaps, she had been hasty in labeling him a self-absorbed playboy. The playboy part was true, but the other part? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

      “Seriously? Look at you, sitting here like the big bad wolf, blocking my exit and trying to intimidate me into getting your way.”

      “I think you’re confusing fairy tales,” he said, although his big, bad smile said he liked the comparison.

      “I was afraid you were pissed from earlier,” he went on, “and decided to play a game of hide-and-seek with my things. So I stationed myself outside the bedroom, in case you tried to sneak past me and lock the door before I could grab my things from inside.”

      She studied him for a good long moment and, even though her BS meter was going ballistic, she couldn’t sense an ounce of deceit. And when he explained it like that, all sincere and rational, Annie felt like the jerk.

      “Admittedly, I had a bad night and you may have caught some of the brunt, and for that I’m sorry. But I’m not actually one of those Crazy Cuties of yours who would do something like that,” she said, embarrassed that he’d think she’d stoop to such immature antics. “I did gather your personal things from the bedroom, though, and placed them next to the garage door so they’d be closest to your car when you left tomorrow. Even stuck a note on the pile.”

      “Bet I can guess what the note said.” When she merely grinned, he laughed. “Then I guess it was worth it.”

      “I guess so,” Annie said, and realized she was laughing as well. That was when Annie had another, more shocking, realization. She was no longer upset over her call with Clark. In fact, the apples of her cheeks felt bruised from her enormous grin.

      “Imagine how good it will feel when you unleash on some guy who actually deserves it, like, I don’t know, that asshat you were talking to earlier. A little suggestion though—you might want to consider cutting down the smile a bit and maybe lose the snickering, but I bet he’d drop that check in the mail A-sap.”

      She covered her face. “Just how much of the call did you overhear?”

      “Enough to know that you clearly have a sweet side and that he’s taking advantage of it.” His tone was soft, his expression stone-cold, almost as if he were being defensive—of her.

      “I’m as sweet as sweet comes. You just happen to bring out my—”

      “Bad girl side?” He sounded hopeful.

      “I was going to say my impatient side.”

      “Whatever it is, you might want to channel the girl who doesn’t have a problem telling me to fuck off next time that idiot calls for wedding advice. Otherwise, you may as well kiss your ten grand goodbye.”

      “Just because I’m nice doesn’t make me a pushover.”

      “Good.” Emmitt scratched his chest like a bear settling in for the winter. “Then call him.”

      “What?”

      “Go on,” he goaded. “Call him and tell him that you aren’t his Anh Bon and demand that he repay the ten grand immediately.”

      “Um... My phone is charging in the bedroom.”

      He lifted his cell from the armrest and offered it to her. “You can use mine.”

      “I don’t need to call him in front of you to prove I’m not a pushover. I’ll handle it.”

      “Good to know,” he said, but it didn’t look as if he believed her.

      Even worse, Annie began to doubt whether she believed herself. Not only had she given Clark permission to steal her wedding venue and her grandparents’ wedding date, the call ended before she could squeeze a concrete date as to when he’d return her money.

      “Just don’t come to me looking for a plus one when he asks you to be the best man. One look at me in a tux and you’ll be elbowing ladies right and left to catch the bouquet.”

      “In your dreams.”

      “Seriously though, you need to say screw everyone else and just do you,” Emmitt said without a hint of teasing in his tone. “I mean it. You don’t owe him anything. Hell, the prick owes you—and not just the money. He owes you one hell of an apology for putting you in that situation. Then he needs to apologize to you in front of your friends and family about the dress and stealing your grandparents’ wedding date.”

      Wow, not only had he heard nearly everything but he’d thought about it long enough to form a strong opinion. The whole situation turned Annie’s stomach.

      It wasn’t what