Page 85 of One Bad Idea

What a joke.

I'd just gotten out of the shower when I heard a knock at the door to the apartment. I gave a muttered curse. I wasn't expecting anyone, and now, I had to throw on whatever clothes I had handy, unless Iwantedto answer the door naked, which I surely didn't.

In truth, I didn't want to answer the door at all.

But I knew myself all too well. If I didn't see who it was, I'd be on pins and needles all night, wondering who it was or if they'd return.

I poked my head out of the bathroom door and called out, "Be there in a minute!" And then, I threw on the first clothes I laid my hands on – a pair of shorts and a little black T-shirt. My hair was wet, and my arms and legs were pink from the shower, not that it mattered. It's not like I planned to impress whoever was rude enough to show up uninvited on a Friday night.

Besides, I had a pretty good guess who it was. Probably, it was Cassidy's mom, who was one of the most thoughtless people I'd ever met.

But as it turned out, my guess was totally wrong. When I peered through the peephole, who did I see?

Jaden.

The jackass.

I whispered, "Shit."

Through the peephole, I swear, I saw the hint of a smile, almost like he'd overheard the quiet curse. Maybe he had. Regardless, he surely knew that I was home.

Still, I refused to make him feel welcome. Not bothering to hide my irritation, I called through the door, "Who is it?"

He didn't even flinch. "If you don't know, look again."

"What do you mean?"

"The peephole," he said. "It's there for a reason."

I looked again, not that I needed to. Mostly, I was stalling while I got a grip on my temper.

Jaden was dressed in a suit and tie, and looked almost civilized. But I wasn't fooled, not one bit. Ifanyonewas a psycho, it was him,notme, regardless of how nicely he was dressed.

I unlocked the door and yanked it open. And then, I greeted him with nothing but a long, cold stare.

Yes, he was my boss, but this was my home, and he was totally uninvited.

It would be a mistake to make him feel like this was okay. It definitely wasn't. I was off the clock, and if the jackass thought it was perfectly fine to stop by unannounced, I was determined to correct that assumption one way or another.

He met my gaze with one of his own. But where mine was cold and challenging, his was filled with obvious amusement.

It was easy to see why.

I was a disheveled soggy mess.

I snapped, "What's the matter? You never saw anyone wet before?"

His eyebrows lifted, but he made no reply. Belatedly, it hit me that such a statement could be taken in multiple ways. One of those ways was decidedly obscene.

My pink skin grew a shade pinker. I didn't need to look. I could feel it as plain as day, the warmth creeping upward and then –damn it– back down again as I considered the ramifications of what I'd just said.

Just a few nights ago, I'd dreamt of him. And yes, the dreamhadmade me embarrassingly wet – and not in the showery sense either.

Maybe Iwasa psycho. After all, he wasn't even my type.

When he made no reply to my stupid comment, I blurted out, "From the shower."

He looked at me for another long moment. "Is that a question?"