Just Friends?. Allison LeighЧитать онлайн книгу.
hours of sleep he’d snagged. He needed all of his wits about him when it came to dealing with Leandra.
Leandra, who was still standing there in his bedroom, twisted her hands together at her waist. “Sorry about that,” she murmured.
For what? Bringing chaos to what was ordinarily a pretty peaceful life? Peaceful, just the way he liked it.
“I didn’t send him.” Apology turned down the corners of her soft lips. “And I came as soon as I knew he was here,” she added. As if that made up for everything.
Peaceful, he thought. Whatever had happened to it?
He’d grown up around Leandra. And her siblings. And her cousins, and there were plenty of ’em. But what on God’s green earth had he done wrong that every time he laid eyes on this particular Clay he felt a jolt?
Bad enough she’d once been married to one of his best friends.
Bad enough she’d chosen Jake over Evan in the first place.
“Well?” Her chin had come up. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
She wore loose flannel pants covered in cartoon chickens and a pink long-sleeved T-shirt with WITS printed over her breasts. The shirt did nothing to hide the fact that the woman was graced with all the appropriate curves. A woman who looked as if she’d bolted from her bed almost as precipitously as Evan. If she hadn’t, she’d have grabbed a jacket, at the very least.
He didn’t need the evidence staring him in the face to know it was pretty damn chilly outside.
It was September. It was Wyoming. It was four bloody o’clock in the morning, and he had Leandra Clay’s sexy body smiling at him through her shirt.
“I’ve never seen chickens wearing bunny slippers,” he finally drawled. “That the style out in California these days?”
Her lips pressed together. “That’s not what I meant.”
He was sure it hadn’t been.
And he was pleased with the tinge of red he could see in her cheeks as she turned off the blazing lamp that Ted had left behind.
Made him feel a little better at least.
Now he just needed to get her out of his bedroom.
Because it was 4:00 a.m. and she was Leandra Clay.
He grabbed the sheet and started to slide off the bed.
At the first sight of his bare legs, Leandra frowned and abruptly headed for the doorway. “I’ll, um, I’ll put on some coffee.”
He grunted. At least that would be something useful.
She glanced back at him and he dragged the sheet around himself, managing not to bare his butt to her eyes.
She fled, her footsteps racing down the staircase.
If he’d needed any hint that Leandra wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing his butt, he supposed he had it now.
He dropped the sheet back on the messy bed and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
How in the hell had his life come to this?
The question required no searching thought when the simple answer was right downstairs putting on the brew.
He rummaged in the small pile of laundry he’d kicked into the bathroom the other day to keep the mess from being caught on tape. His clothes smelled of God-knew-what, but he pulled them on anyway, then went downstairs to face Leandra and her coffee.
But when he got there, the coffeepot still sat piteously empty.
“Thought you were putting on the java.”
“I was. Am.” She closed the refrigerator door with a soft rattle of bottles. “I can’t find the coffee.”
He opened the cupboard above the maker and pulled out the can. “Suppose you’re used to some fancy brand you grind yourself.”
She made a face but didn’t answer. Which probably was her answer.
Evan knew good and well that Jake—his good buddy Jake—liked his coffee expensive and ground only moments before it was brewed.
Why would Jake’s wife be any different?
Ex-wife, an internal voice reminded him. For all the good it did.
Evan was a fool. That’s what he was. Pure and simple.
And God didn’t protect fools by the name of Evan Taggart.
Punishment was the course, there. Punishment in the form of a golden-haired wisp whom he still didn’t have the good sense to say no to.
Now that sprite in question was eyeing him through the brown eyes that had always seemed too large for her heart-shaped face.
He dumped his simple, grocery-bought coffee into a fresh filter and shoved it into the coffeemaker. “You going to drink some of this?”
“If you’re offering.”
He pulled out the filter, added another scoop of ground coffee, and pushed it back in place. Before he could reach for the empty coffee carafe, she’d plucked it out of the sink and was rinsing and refilling it with water.
Their fingers brushed when she handed it to him.
He sloshed the water into the machine and hit the power button, not looking at her. A reassuring gurgle answered him. “I’m grabbing a shower before that peeping Tom comes back.”
“Ted’s not a pervert,” she called after him as he practically bolted from the room. “He’s doing what Marian told him to do.”
“Then maybe Marian’s the one who’s twisted,” Evan called back, heading up the stairs.
What had he been thinking when he’d agreed to be part of that stupid show?
What had she been thinking to approach Evan Taggart about WITS?
Leandra pushed her fingers through her hair, pressing the tips against her skull as if the pressure could relieve the throbbing ache inside. She’d figured that following the life of a good-looking veterinarian would be just the ticket for the show that had been her home for the past eighteen months. She’d figured that veterinarian would be her ex-husband, Jake Stallings, who, despite their divorced status, was usually willing to do most anything that Leandra asked of him.
Jake was everything that her boss, Marian Hughes, loved. Charismatic. Handsome. A veterinarian to a whole host of pampered celebrity pets.
But for reasons known only to Jake, he’d refused her request and reminded her instead about his friend from college.
Evan Taggart.
Evan, who wasn’t only Jake’s old friend, considering Leandra had known him since they were tots. He’d been as much a thorn in Leandra’s youth as he had been a friend, and he was the one who’d introduced Leandra to Jake when he’d brought his college mate home one weekend.
Huffing out a breath, remembering that she hadn’t even brushed her teeth when she’d made her mad dash over to Evan’s, she went to her purse and rummaged inside for her cosmetic case.
She could hear water rumbling in the old horse’s pipes and tried not to think too much about Evan upstairs in his shower.
It was bad enough to have seen him upstairs covered to the waist in a rumpled sheet.
She’d found herself wondering just what he’d had under that sheet. That, in itself was pretty darned disturbing.
She shook her head, trying to eradicate the image and yanked open the little case. She found her travel toothbrush and squirted toothpaste on it, then brushed her teeth at the kitchen sink, washed her face and streaked some water through her hair.
She