It Must Have Been the Mistletoe... by Kate Hoffmann

Author:Kate Hoffmann
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

5

HE WINCED. “I’M NOT surprised your sister doesn’t like me,” Bryant readily confessed, to Layla’s immense shock.

She sagged like a spent party balloon and mentally swore. She’d been secretly hoping that he’d either play dumb or deny it so they could continue to play dirty Scrabble like they had last night, and he could keep using his kiss therapy to keep her stage fright at bay. She’d actually done better onstage than she’d expected and she didn’t know how much of that was thanks to Bryant.

“Women don’t like being thwarted any more than men do,” he continued with a casual shrug, “and I’m sure that when I told her I wasn’t interested I became one of her least favorite people.” Half of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. “I got the impression she’s not used to being told no.”

Layla blinked, confused. “I’m sorry, what? What do you mean she’s not used to being told no?”

He shrugged. “She hit on me.” His gaze tangled significantly with hers. “I wasn’t interested. Another Cole girl had already caught my eye.”

“She hit on you?” she repeated, still reeling from his version of what happened. Much as she loved Rita, in retrospect Bryant’s version made more sense.

He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “She’d had too much to drink,” he said. “It happens.” He grinned again. “But probably not to you. I get the impression that you like to be in control.”

He’d pegged her right. Honestly, Layla liked a fruity cocktail as much as the next person but didn’t have any desire to get drunk. She never had. She didn’t like feeling out of control or nauseated or any of the side effects that came along with having too much to drink. She liked to get a buzz every once in a while, just enough to make her laugh a little too loudly, but otherwise that was the extent of her recreational drug use. She shared as much with Bryant.

“Judging from your reaction, I take it your sister gave you a different version of events.”

She nodded. “Rita said it was you that wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

He merely grinned. “Not to sound arrogant, Layla, but there are too many women who say yes for me to worry about one saying no.”

Didn’t she know it? Layla thought, her belly going all hot and muddled from watching his mouth. It was overtly carnal. And she loved the way it had felt against her own.

She wasn’t going to touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. “Rita has calmed down a bit,” she said instead. “She’s still looking for Mr. Right though.”

“What about you?” he asked, studying her from beneath a sweep of lashes that would make a supermodel envious. “Is Mr. Right going to help you build your house?”

He was fishing, Layla realized, and resisted the urge to preen. “No,” she admitted. “But I’m willing to accept all of the help I can get, so that would include Mr. Right, Mr. Wrong, Mr. Right Now and Mr.

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