“Because you’re a reporter?”
“Oh, no. It’s way worse than that.”
“What could be worse than that?”
Her brother. Her brother was worse than that. Like a bucket of cold water thrown on her, the thought smothered her arousal. She stiffened. “Get away from me.”
He studied her for a moment then let go of her hips, taking a step back. She slid away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Away from his touch, she felt chilled, ill.
She didn’t want to think about that too closely.
“You asshole. You’re trying to use sex to get answers.”
“Yes. But in my defense I also really, really want you.”
“I don’t think that’s much of a defense.” Although it did ease somethin
g inside her to know it wasn’t all an act. “You’re an asshole.”
He sighed. “Look, I didn’t come in here with the intention of seducing you for answers. I was just going to ask you a few questions. But then you dared me to find the freckles you have hidden on your body, and I couldn’t resist. Then once I touched you it all went to my head.”
“I didn’t dare you to find my freckles. I don’t have any freckles.”
“Well, that’s a disappointment.”
She gaped at him. “I think you should leave.”
He gave her a charming smile. “You sure about that? I mean, maybe you can’t see these freckles? Maybe you need someone to check them for you?”
“Not you!” Hmm, that wasn’t quite what she meant to say. “You just tried to use sex to interrogate me.”
“You can’t say you weren’t enjoying yourself. And isn’t it a pleasant way to be questioned or would you rather Sawyer bought out his torture tools?”
“He has torture tools?” She felt herself slump against the wall. Dizziness overcame her. She went hot then cold. Shit. Shit.
“What? No. Shit, sit down.” He helped her sit on the floor, bending her legs up as he pushed her head down between them. “Just take it easy, sweetheart. I was joking.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t funny.” His hand felt warm against the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled at his touch and her body reheated.
What was wrong with her? He was an asshole. A manipulative asshole. And with just one touch he could make her melt. Could make her remember all the reasons why she needed to keep her distance from him and every other man.
“I’m okay now.” She raised her head, staring into his concerned face as he crouched next to her.
“You sure? I’m really sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”
“Yeah, well, you’re an ass, so I should have expected no less.”
Except looking into his worried face, he didn’t seem like an asshole. He seemed like a concerned, sweet guy with way too much sexual appeal for her peace of mind.
“You still look a little pale to me.” He placed his hand over her forehead.
Damn it, would he stop touching her? Didn’t he realize the effect he was having on her? And this concerned routine was really playing havoc with her vow to hate his guts. All right, she hadn’t actually made that vow, but she’d been about to.
“I’m going to go and get you something to eat. You feel a little warm to me. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” Except maybe she was running a temperature. Maybe she was delirious. Because she wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes. And then she’d do the same to him and . . . okay, she needed to get her mind off sex.