Anybody But Him by Claire Baxter Page A

against her–was fully clothed, this time in faded jeans and a black T-shirt with a sports-brand logo on the front. Very casual. Very sexy.
    He swallowed, visibly. ‘Well. I think this is the part where you call me your hero and fall down in a swoon so that I have to catch you in my big, strong arms and carry you—’
    â€˜There will be no swooning in this house.’
    â€˜Are you sure? What about we skip the swooning part and go straight to the carrying? I’d be happy to oblige.’
    â€˜There will be none of that either. What are you doing here, anyway?’
    He struck a pose, chest out, hands on hips. ‘Riding up on my valiant steed to rescue a fair maiden.’
    She started to smile, then shook her head instead. ‘Enough of the fairytale stuff.’ Which was pretty much how she felt about her life. ‘Seriously, what are you doing here?’
    â€˜Delivering vegetables. I left them outside.’
    More vegetables? She hadn’t managed to use up the last lot before they went floppy.
    â€˜But you’re not supposed to come round on a Saturday. Weekdays only, remember?’
    â€˜I thought you’d make an exception this week since I’ve been away interstate. You didn’t miss me, then?’
    She rolled her eyes.
    â€˜I could have waited till Monday, but I thought you’d be needing your vegetables. Five a day, and all that.’
    Five a day? Who did that? It was a marketing ploy by the supermarkets, surely? ‘Right. Well, thanks for letting me out.’
    â€˜You’re very welcome.’
    She opened her mouth to send him on his way, but hesitated. He’d helped her out of two awkward situations now and he’d been nothing but pleasant despite her less-than-friendly manner towards him. Perhaps she’d been a bit harsh.
    â€˜I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d like to get dressed now, so if you wouldn’t mind …’ She made a shooing gesture towards the kitchen.
    â€˜Okay, but I’ll be back in a while to board up the kitchen window. I had to break the glass in order to reach the door lock. It was the only way in, I’m afraid. I’ll put that knob back on the bathroom door too.’
    â€˜No need. I can do it.’
    â€˜Sure?’
    â€˜It can’t be that hard.’ She moistened her lips. ‘I’m not completely helpless, you know.’
    He scratched his jaw. ‘It won’t take me a minute to do it. I don’t like the idea of you locking yourself in there again as soon as I turn my back.’
    â€˜I won’t.’ She’d stick a phone book by the door to remind herself not to close it.
    He turned away, whistling for the dog as he reached the back door. Once he’d gone she wasted no time, rushed into the shower and back out again at record speed, dressed, and dried her hair roughly. She slapped on minimal make-up – even if it was only blush, mascara and lip gloss, it made a difference. Ever since she’d left behind her nerdy looks, she’d made an effort never to be seen without at least a little make-up. It had become a mask that gave her confidence to confront the world.
    Or, in this case, Blair Morrissey.
    She was stuffing towels into the washing machine when he turned up again. She saw him walk past the laundry window and by the time she reached the kitchen he was stretching across the sink to knock broken glass from the window frame with a hammer. His T-shirt had parted company with his jeans, leaving tanned skin on display in the gap above the denim.
    It was nothing. An insignificant bit of back. So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away? And why did her own skin feel like ants were crawling over it? No . She couldn’t be attracted to Blair Morrissey. She shook her head to dislodge the totally unwelcome concept before it could take hold.
    The movement caught his eye, and he turned to look at her, smiling. As his gaze flickered over her, his