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“Nice.” His eyes turned molten. His hand came up and he stroked the underside of her breasts. “Delectable, in fact.” Her nipples had peaked at his touch and now ached with piercing tingles of desire.
Delectable? A fresh wave of heat flooded her. Followed quickly by anger.
How could she have responded with such lack of inhibition to this man?
“Get out of my way.” She leaped from the bed, and, taking time only to snag up her clothes, she bolted for the en suite where she locked the door and started to dress with frantic haste.
After pulling on jeans, Callum galloped down the stairs and got into the kitchen just in time to see Miranda shoveling her things off the countertop into her bag.
From behind her, his eyes lingered on the strands of gold that glowed like dancing sunbeams in the morning light and he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, kiss her and tousle the waves into a more bedded look. Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate passion right now.
She pushed a hairbrush into her bag with a hasty movement.
He took a step toward her unable to resist the impulse to say, “At least be honest and admit you loved every moment of last night.”
She started at the sound of his voice. Her head jerked around and he saw her eyes held the look of a trapped deer. “I only did it because I owe you. Remember?”
His mind blanked out. “Because you owe me?”
“Money.” She backed up but rubbed her forefinger and thumb together with bravado, her expression defiant. “For putting me through culinary school.”
“Last night was payback?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded and her hair bobbed around her face.
“You slept with me because you felt indebted?” Outrage swamped Callum. No woman had ever slept with him to prostitute herself. What had been an amazing experience suddenly felt sordid. Annoyed, he said, “I paid a fortune. One night wouldn’t begin to cover my outlay.”
Her shoulders stiffened. Instead of replying, Miranda turned her back on him and gathered the last few of her scattered belongings together before dropping them into her bag. She zipped it shut with a decisive movement.
She was leaving, Callum realized.
The rigid line of her back spelt out her intention to put as much distance between them as she could. She shoved his jacket aside with unnecessary force.
“Hey, that’s my favorite Armani.”
His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. The jacket slithered over the edge and, despite her grab for it, fell to the ground.
“Sorry.” She bent to pick it up and Callum heard his car keys jingle as they slid from the pocket. “What’s this?”
Her eyes, shockingly close, were on the same level as his as he knelt, too. For a moment he felt as if he’d been sucked into her soft, melting center.
“What’s what?” he asked huskily, unable to tear his gaze away.
“This…”
He glanced down at the dark blue velvet ring box lying in the palm of her hand.
Crap.
“It’s a jeweler’s box.” She stated the obvious before he could reply. Already her fingers were working the catch.
Alarm electrified him. “No. Don’t.”
Too late.
For long seconds Miranda stared at the diamond solitaire ring inside. Then she raised eyes full of questions. “You planned to ask me to marry you?”
Callum had the disoriented sense that he’d just been catapulted into an alien world. He couldn’t think. Hell, he couldn’t breathe—his lungs were empty.
“Why?” Her eyes held a luminosity that twisted his gut into knots.
“Uh…” He gulped in air.
“Because you slept with me?” A puzzled frown furrowed her brow as she lifted the ring from the bed of velvet and caressed it with her fingertips. “No. That’s not right. You had the ring before you slept with me. So…”
This was not going as he’d planned. He could see her thinking, coming to the Lord knew what conclusion.
Ah, hell. “Not you,” he muttered.
“What?” Her full attention zeroed in on him again.
“I wasn’t going to propose to you.”
An indecipherable expression flashed across her face. “Then who?”
