Bed of Lies by Paula Roe

physiotherapist or masseuse.”
    “It’s nothing sleep can’t fix.” He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle before eyeing her speculatively. “You know, we’re more alike than you think.”
    “Really?”
    He ignored the sarcasm. “We’re both work driven, handling a lot of stress, and now we’ve got this situation messing up our lives. Which brings me back to my original problem. What’s our connection, Beth Jones?”
    “I know as much as you do.” She glanced out the window as they passed the sign to Sunset Island.
    “Sure.”
    “So you think I’m hiding something.”
    “I’ll bet my fifteen years at Jackson and Blair.”
    “And in fifteen years you’ve become a master of avoiding a question,” Beth pointed out.
    “What question?”
    “Relaxation? You’ve got nothing to lose. Unless you like having a sore neck.”
    He gave her a look. “Sounds like you want this for me more than I do.”
    She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Ignore the expert.” Yet he couldn’t miss that fleeting look of concern as she turned back to the window.
    He paused, allowing the events of the last day to press oppressively down. If he watched his back, he could hide out until the press frenzy blew over. Maybe. If luck was on his side.
    But there was one big problem. A blonde, beautiful, hostile problem.
    “Okay. A massage,” he said suddenly. But when she turned back to him, a small smile blooming, he added, “A massage for some background information.”
    She blinked. “Some things are personal.”
    “And we’re in each other’s faces, which is about as personal as it gets.”
    The silence was absolute, a stark and obscene contrast to the noisy thoughts warring in Beth’s head.
    Damn Luke and his steady chip-chip-chipping away at her defenses. She needed space, much more space than this luxurious interior would allow. Like another continent’s worth.
    “Look,” she finally said, “I’m tired of arguing.”
    “Then don’t.”
    For one crazy second, Beth thought about walking away and letting him deal with the mess. Quickly, she rejected it. He’s prepared to fight for this. So am I.
    “I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this, Beth.”
    Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
    “And I can pull my weight around the house. I can clean, fix that loose pantry door. I even make a mean lasagna.”
    A vision of Luke cooking in her kitchen jolted her. Another quickly followed—only this time he was stripped to the waist and teasing her with those come-to-bed eyes.
    As if reading her thoughts, he grinned. “You’re tempted. The thought of a home-cooked lasagna got you, hey?”
    The fantasy scattered. Confusion and pleasure battled for the lead until irritation won out. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with that seductive smile and I’m-so-charming routine.”
    His smile dropped. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to—”
    “And don’t insult us both by denying it.” She scowled. “You really think that’s going to work on me?”
    Instead of being insulted, that sensual smile just got wider. “You know what I think? I think you’re just trying to pick faults when there aren’t any. That you’re irritated because you desperately want to dislike me. That—” he held up his hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt “—that despite this weird situation you’re actually attracted to me, cara. ”
    She floundered for a second or two, trying to wrap her head around his bluntness, her cheeks flaming at his obvious amusement.
    “Rubbish!”
    He winked. “You sure?”
    If a man could purr, Luke would be doing it right now. Coupled with that look and the memory of heat on her skin where his fingers had caressed her, he personified danger with a capital D. And he was about to move into her spare room and share her bathroom.
    “Positive.” She turned away as her body hummed, a low throb reminding her that impending danger was only a couple of feet away.
    She sat