by Iris Morland
Oh God, this was supposed to be a relaxing vacation!
When the pantry door was thrown open, Thea screamed and launched herself at the intruder. He yelled, surprised, pushing her off him before grappling with her. The knife clattered to the floor. As the intruder held her still, she looked up into the eyes of the man who was going to kill her.
And when she recognized him, she was so shocked her voice failed her.
It was Anthony Bertram.
She gaped up at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. He frowned down at her like some ferocious predator. He was significantly taller than her, as she only came up to his shoulder. His grip was firm to the point of hurting, but she hardly felt it. Was this some kind of bizarre nightmare? Had he found out what she’d done and decided to kill her himself? But why drive out here to do it? Her mind raced as she started shaking.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Anthony demanded in a voice like thunder. Thea flinched. He continued, “Why are you hiding in the goddamn pantry? And more importantly, who are you?”
If he wanted to kill her, he would’ve done it already. Realizing that she wasn’t in any actual danger, she inhaled, trying to find the words to explain.
And then, to both their surprise, she started laughing.
Anthony let her go like she’d thrown acid on him. Thea kept laughing, knowing she sounded like a lunatic and not caring. It was so ridiculous, and she was so jacked up on adrenaline, that laughing was the only way she could calm herself down.
Anthony just stared at her, and it only made her laugh harder.
“Oh my God,” was all she could keep saying. “Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me.”
“I scared the shit out of you?” He shot her an incredulous look. “What the hell are you doing here? I’ve rented this cabin for me and me only. Are you homeless?”
At that question, Thea’s laughter faded. She was wearing old sweats and her hair needed a good wash, but she hardly looked homeless.
“You’ve rented this cabin? I think you’ve made a mistake. I’ve rented this cabin for two weeks. So you’re the one intruding,” she said.
Anthony shook his head, his jaw clenching. She couldn’t help but notice that her nemesis was even handsomer in person: his jaw was practically cut from marble, his hair dark as the night outside. His eyes were dark, too, although if she looked more closely, she could see specks of gold in them.
Not that she was looking. No way.
And then she realized he wore nothing but boxers. She’d been so terrified that his near nakedness just hadn’t registered. Her face heated as she took in his muscular torso, his chiseled abdomen and pectorals. His chest was covered in dark hair, while more dark hair pointed straight down to the waistband of his boxers.
She swallowed, mouth dry. As if he’d known she was ogling him, Anthony just crossed his arms and raised one dark eyebrow.
“Who. The. Hell. Are. You?” he asked slowly, raking her with his gaze. “If you aren’t homeless, then why the fuck are you in my cabin?”
Thea sighed. The adrenaline leaving her system made her feel shaky, and it was difficult to put the threads of all of this together. And it didn’t help that Thea didn’t know if she should tell Anthony her name. What if he knew exactly who’d started that campaign against his company?
She had no idea how they’d know—she and Mittens had been careful—but Anthony had contacts and money. That alone should make her wary. Then again, if they did know, he would’ve sent his lawyers after her already.
But his angry gaze told her he wasn’t about to let her keep silent. Deciding to stick with the truth, she said, “My name is Thea. And who are you?” She knew who he was, obviously, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of her recognizing him.
“Anthony Bertram. Now my next question,” he said as he went to the fridge and opened it. “Where the hell did all of my food go?”
Anthony had come downstairs to have a midnight snack because he couldn’t sleep, only to find a damn crazy woman in the kitchen. He still wasn’t totally convinced she wasn’t going to stab him. But considering she was half his size and hadn’t tried to stab him a second time, he had a feeling she’d been as surprised as he’d been.
The knife on the floor gleamed up at him. Picking it up, he sent Thea an ironic glance. He placed the knife back in the knife block and once again gestured to the fridge. “What happened to my food?” he asked again. Because really, he’d come downstairs for something to eat, and his food had disappeared. Had she eaten it all while he’d been upstairs?
She said, “That’s what you’re worried about here? Your deli meat that’s filled with sodium and that will make your heart explode someday?”
Oh God, she was one of those people. He groaned, shutting the fridge. His appetite had disappeared, anyway. He needed to get this woman out of the cabin. Right now.
She was crazy, yes, but when she’d launched herself at him, he’d felt that she was a pleasant armful of womanly curves. She wasn’t his type in the slightest: her hair was too short, she had a septum ring in her nose and a sleeve of tattoos all along her right arm. She was also obnoxiously short. He preferred women tall enough that he didn’t get a neck ache from kissing them.
Not that he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t kiss crazy.
He’d driven up to the cabin earlier that day, looking forward to being alone for the next two weeks. Amid the PR fiasco, he’d forgotten about his reservation until Cara had reminded him. He’d considered canceling, but he didn’t want to give Bruce and the other members of the board the satisfaction. Bruce would see it as weakness, would think he’d gotten to Anthony.
Anthony would still be working anyway—that couldn’t be avoided—and he’d made certain that the cabin he had chosen had reliable Wi-Fi. Besides, Cara was a phone call away, and he could get back to Seattle within three hours if all else failed.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Anthony crossed his arms. “How about you explain why you’re here?” he said. First, he needed to take care of this woman.
“Because I’m renting this cabin for two weeks.” Her expression turned mulish. “So why are you here?”
Pulling out his phone, he brought up the email from Ted, confirming his reservation. “You must have gotten the dates mixed up.” He showed her the email.
But to his dismay, she pulled out her own phone—one with a cracked screen that he could barely read off—and he read that she’d gotten the same confirmation email. You’re confirmed for the Peaceful Waters Cabin at Mighty Pine, April 3–17. They were the exact same dates as in his confirmation email.
He thrust her phone back at her. “Then there’s a mix-up. I’ll call Ted in the morning, get you a refund.” He wanted to wring Ted’s neck. How could he have let this happen? Who booked two strangers at the same time?
“Why should I leave?” Thea countered. She mirrored Anthony by crossing her arms, which only made her small breasts more obvious. He decided to ignore that. “I have as much of a right to stay here as you. Besides, you’re rich. You can go anywhere. I’ve saved up for this trip, while I’m sure this is just a drop in the bucket for you.”
“Who says I’m rich?” he said, despite it being completely true.
“Because you have the face of a rich douche, and you’re wearing an expensive watch. Pretty easy to guess everything else.”
“I’ll have to do something about being so obvious.”
He called Cara, needing to get this sorted out. Cara was used to getting phone calls at all hours of the night. If anyone could get this crazy woman a hotel room or find a new cabin for her, it was Cara.
“What are you doing?” Thea demanded.
Anthony ignored her.
“Cara, there’s a situation. I need you to find me a hotel room for tonight. Somewhere near the cabin. Yes, tonight. No, it’s not for me—”
Before he could hear Cara’s reply, Thea took the phone out of his hand and ended the call. A
nthony stared down at her, immense irritation filling him.
“Give me my phone back,” he said in the same tone of voice he used with people he was ten seconds away from eviscerating. The same voice that made employees quiver in their boots. He’d made more than one intern cry when he’d used this particular voice.
Thea, however, didn’t look like she was going to burst into tears. She merely tipped her chin up in defiance.
He towered over her and slowly began to force her backward until she bumped into the wall. So close to her, he could smell her—something citrusy yet also spicy—and he could see that her eyes were a dark grayish green. He was so close that only an inch or two separated them.
She’d put her hands behind her back, the phone still clutched in her grip.
“I’m not leaving,” she said with obvious bravado. “I have as much a right as you to be here. I paid for my reservation. I’m not going to let you ruin my vacation.”
Anthony smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t give two shits what you paid for. I don’t care if you’re the goddamn queen of England. I’ve wanted to be alone in this cabin, and I’m not about to have some crazy hippie woman ruin that.”
Thea bristled. “I’m not crazy.”
“You tried to stab me.”
“I thought you were going to kill me!”
“I’m seriously considering it now.”
She didn’t waver, and Anthony couldn’t help but be impressed. Most women would’ve started crying already. Elise certainly would have. She used tears like a soldier used a gun, and she could employ it at the most opportune time to get what she wanted.
He reached to get his phone, but Thea pushed it higher up her back. He’d have to turn her around and rip it from her grasp, which meant touching her again. He wasn’t going to touch her a second time.
“Give. Me. My. Phone. Back,” said Anthony through clenched teeth.
“I will if you promise not to kick me out.”
“No.”
“Then we’ll stay here all night.”
He placed his hand on the wall above her head, effectively caging her in. Her chest rose and fell, and he could tell she wasn’t as calm as she’d like him to think.
“I have all the time in the world,” he said softly. “And I never lose.”
Since intimidation wasn’t going to work, Anthony decided that he’d try another tactic. There was always something that caused a person to let down their guard. Fear, greed. And lust. Trailing his fingers down her arm, he encircled her wrist. He brushed the soft skin there with his thumb. When Thea shuddered despite her best efforts, he exulted.
“If you’re going to stay here,” he murmured, his mouth near her ear, “then you might as well give me a good reason to let you stay.”
She froze. He stroked her forearm. Then she shuddered.
When he raised his head, his gaze landing on her rosy mouth, he suddenly wanted to kiss her. Right then and there.
Thea licked her lips.
And then a sharp pain radiated from his foot, and he swore as Thea ducked under his arm. She’d stomped on his fucking foot, the little bitch!
She laughed at his pained expression. If she’d broken his foot—
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said and ran upstairs, his phone still in her hand. When he heard a bedroom door shut with a bang upstairs, he knew he’d been beaten.
He swore, long and low.
Thea might have won that battle, but by God, he’d win this fucking war.
4
Anthony woke up the following morning to the sound of rain against the cabin roof and an ache in his foot. It took him a moment to remember what had happened last night. Namely, that this Thea person had stolen his phone and had stomped on his foot so hard that when he looked at it in the morning light, there was a nice-sized purple bruise on it.
He grumbled, his stomach also grumbling. Thea had locked her door and refused to come out, and Anthony had decided to let her win—this time. Although he was pissed enough to break down her door if he had to.
After a quick shower and shave, he ventured downstairs. He smelled something cooking, and when he went into the kitchen, he found Thea singing as she cut fresh fruit. She also wore tiny shorts with the most ridiculously tight tank top, which only increased Anthony’s irritation. Why couldn’t she be anything but an attractive woman with an ass that was totally distracting? He wished she smelled like anchovies and never brushed her teeth.
“You’re still here,” he said flatly. He moved past her to the fridge to find that his missing food had been restored. He grunted. Pulling out some bacon and a carton of eggs, he cracked some eggs for an omelet. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could feed himself if he had to. Normally his cook would make him his meals, but just because he was rich didn’t mean he was helpless.
Thea ignored him, continuing to sing. Her singing voice was nothing amazing, although at least it seemed to be on key, he thought sourly. She placed fruit in a glass bowl and turned to the stove, pouring what looked like pancake batter onto a griddle. Anthony’s mouth watered at the scent.
But more importantly, he needed to get his phone back. Shooting Thea his most intimidating glare, he said, “Give me my phone back.”
“Most people say ‘good morning’ when they first see someone in the morning,” she replied in a sugary voice.
“It isn’t a ‘good morning,’ because you’re still here and you’ve stolen my property.” He tore open the bacon package, and to his immense delight, Thea’s expression turned green at the sight. “You want some?” he taunted.
“I don’t eat dead animals. Can you cook that after I’m done?”
“No, because I’m hungry.” He found a skillet and set it on the stove next to Thea’s pancakes.
She stood next to him now, and as he heated oil in the pan and was about to place the bacon in, she said, “Fine. I’ll give you your phone back if you wait until I’m upstairs. Deal?”
He grinned and flipped off the burner. “Deal.” He put out his hand, and she pulled the phone from her back pocket. He hadn’t thought those shorts were remotely big enough to allow her to keep his phone in her pocket. Electricity danced along his veins at the realization that his phone was warm from her body.
Thea sniffed and returned to her pancakes. Anthony opened his emails, grimacing at how many had landed in his inbox just since last night. Thankfully, there was nothing urgent, although Cara had emailed, texted, and called, concerned about why he hadn’t called her after Thea had hung up on her.
He ignored Cara’s messages for now. He had something more important to get to the bottom of. He needed to call Ted and figure out this damn mess.
Anthony tapped his foot as Ted’s line rang and rang. Finally, he picked up.
“Ted, finally. This is Anthony Bertram. Are you aware that you’ve booked the Peaceful Waters cabin for not only myself, but another person?”
“What? I’m not sure I understand. You want someone else to come up to stay with you?”
Anthony gritted his teeth. “No, I’m saying that there’s another person here who says she has booked the cabin at the same time as me. Her name is Thea. Ring a bell?”
Ted inhaled, and Anthony heard papers being shuffled. Then Ted barked in the background, “Marjorie! Marjorie, where are you!” His voice rose with every word.
Ted returned to the line. “Mr. Bertram, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. There must have been a mix-up. Marjorie is in charge of finalizing reservations. Let me find out what happened, and I will make this right.”
Anthony wasn’t interested in waiting. Hearing Thea come into the living room, he said, “I booked this cabin months ago. This is unacceptable. Make it right, or you’ll never do business again. Understood?”
Ted stammered something and promised to get to the bottom of things before Anthony ended the call.
He was about to call Cara when Thea said behind him, “Was that really necessary?”
&n
bsp; He turned to see her holding a plate of food. His stomach grumbled from the sight. “This isn’t just some tiny mistake. They’ve fucked up everything because somebody is completely incompetent. So, yes, it was necessary.”
“Sometimes mistakes happen. It’s life.”
“Mistakes don’t happen for people like me.” He walked toward the kitchen, pausing next to her for a moment. “Enjoy your meal. It’s the last one you’ll have here in this cabin.”
“That sounds ominous. Are you actually going to kill me now?”
“Like I said last night: I’m considering it.”
She stabbed a bite of her pancake with a wide smile. “Even rich assholes like you don’t want homicide on their hands. Bad PR, don’tcha know.”
Anthony stilled at that word, but Thea only bit into a piece of pancake like she hadn’t said anything of note. Did she know about his company’s PR disaster? Then again, how could she? She hadn’t known who he was last night.
“My assistant will find you a hotel room,” he said brusquely. “You’ll be leaving by this afternoon.”
“In this weather? Did you look outside?”
He hadn’t, and when he glanced out the window, he saw rain. So it was raining in the Pacific Northwest. That wasn’t exactly a deterrent for anyone from around here.
“Unless you’re actually a witch, you won’t melt in the rain,” he said.
“Funny. But apparently there are mudslides everywhere. Actually…” She set her food down and went outside without another word.
Annoyed, Anthony followed, not sure why he cared. The rain pounded down, and both he and Thea gazed upon a driveway that had turned into a sea of mud. Water streamed away from the house toward the bottom of the hill. Based on the clouds overhead, the rain wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
“I can drive in rain, but I’m not about to get swept away in a flash flood,” said Thea.
“Then I’ll call in a helicopter. I know people.”