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  “What’s that?”

  “Go to bed,” he said, and his hands went to the buttons on his Levi’s.

  Twenty

  A conclusion is where you go when you get tired of thinking.

  —Breanne Mooreland’s journal entry

  Cooper didn’t miss the leap of emotion in Breanne’s gaze. Except it wasn’t Oh, please take me to bed, it was Oh God, he thinks I’m going to sleep with him.

  With a harsh laugh directed entirely at himself, he ran his fingers through his hair and headed toward the mattress. “I’m taking it we need something bigger than a sheet between us this time.” He snatched the folded comforter off the foot of the bed and stalked toward the overstuffed chair in the corner. The small chair. “’Night, Bree.”

  She stared at him as he sat and pulled the comforter over the top of him. It was a short comforter, and didn’t cover both his chest and his feet at the same time. Perfect. Not only had he been stupid enough to give up the bed, he was going to be cold to boot.

  Breanne was still staring at him. “I thought that you—that we’d—” Her gaze flickered to the bed.

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled back the big, thick down comforter that Cooper had reason to know was not only warm and toasty, but would cover him entirely, and slid beneath it, vanishing entirely except for the top of her head and her eyes. Eyes that were still locked on him.

  Trying to forget her, he shifted to his side, aiming for some level of comfort. There was none to be had. His jeans were cutting off circulation to vital parts. With a sigh, he stood up and stripped them off, then wrapped himself in the blanket that came only to his shins.

  Popsicles. His feet were going to be popsicles.

  So were his balls. Good move, Ace. With another sigh, he stood up, put his jeans back on, and took a longing glance toward the bed. Looking considerably more comfortable, not to mention warm and toasty, Breanne lay there with only her hair and eyes showing.

  Eyes which were closed.

  He turned away, thinking, damn, she’d gone directly to sleep, peaceful as a baby, while he sat here chilly, frustrated, and—

  “I have another deal,” she whispered.

  “The last one didn’t work out too well for me, so no, thanks.”

  “This one’s better.”

  He rolled back toward her, then was sorry. Her eyes were dark and haunted, her face strained, her fingers clutching the blanket up to her chin. Not wanting to be affected by her meant shit when his heart clenched without his permission every time he so much as looked at her. “What is it?”

  “I’m . . .” She let out a breath. “I’m really scared.”

  He sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen to you here, Bree.”

  “Yeah.” Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I keep telling myself that. The truth is, I’m a little shaky for a lot of reasons.”

  “You’ve been through a rough few days. Anyone would be shaky, even without finding a dead body.”

  “Yeah, makes that whole being dumped at the altar thing not that big a deal.”

  “It was a big deal for you,” he said quietly.

  “You know it’s for the third time.”

  “Breanne—”

  “Don’t even try to tell me that’s normal,” she said firmly. “Face it, Cooper. There’s something wrong with me. I’m not quite sure what, but there is.”

  “No.”

  “Maybe it’s a sexual thing. Maybe . . .” She winced. “Maybe I’m bad in bed.”

  Christ, no man was strong enough for this. He pushed out of the chair and moved to the mattress.

  She watched him, her eyes sad and shimmering. “About the deal. Do you think you could—I mean, would you—”

  He put a knee on the mattress. “Don’t say it.”

  “—have sex with me?” she whispered. “Make sure I’m not doing something really wrong?”

  Definitely not big enough to walk away from that request, or the lingering hurt in her eyes, not to mention the offer of her sweet, hot body.

  “I’ll do all the work,” she promised. “Everything.”

  His knees actually wobbled.

  “And afterwards, you can critique me—”

  “Breanne—”

  “And then tomorrow morning, we’ll dig out and go our separate ways.”

  She was serious. She wanted to have him tonight, bare their bodies and souls, then walk away in the morning.

  After he told her what was wrong with her.

  “Think of it,” she said softly. “A whole night of unattached, unemotional sex. Any guy’s idea of Christmas, right?”

  “Stop.” Walking over here had been a massively stupid idea, because now he was inches from her, with a knee already on the bed.

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Stared up at him.

  All he had to do was lean over her—

  She tossed the covers aside.

  On her back in that stretchy red top and painted-on skirt, both of which showed off her curvy body in a mouthwatering way, she smiled up at him—shaky, but a smile nevertheless. “Do you want me, Cooper?”

  Only more than his next breath. He wanted to pull her beneath him, he wanted to slowly strip her out of those sexy clothes that were hot but not her, wanted to run his tongue and teeth over every inch of her.

  But not like this. Damn it, not like this, not with her hurting, and vulnerable. Not with her trying to set it up so that for once she could be the one to walk away before she got hurt. It took every ounce of restraint he had, but he backed up.

  “I know you want me,” she said softly, and they both looked down at the unmistakable bulge behind the buttons on his jeans, offering vivid proof of that wanting. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “But—”

  “No. No buts.”

  “But . . . not like this, Bree. Not because you’re hurting and sad.”

  “Cooper—”

  “I don’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret anything. Especially me.”

  Her eyes were as luminous as the fire’s glow while she digested this. “And I thought you said you weren’t a gentleman.”

  A sound of deep need escaped him—he couldn’t help it.

  She turned on her side away from him and pulled the covers back over her head.

  Was she embarrassed now? He didn’t want that, anything but that. “Breanne—”

  “Forget it.”

  He didn’t move, couldn’t get himself to walk away.

  “Every minute you stand there,” she said, her voice muffled by the covers, “you risk being jumped by the pathetic chick. I’d run if I were you.”

  Shit. He stalked the length of the room, heading back to the fire, even though he didn’t need the heat; he was damn hot enough.

  Craning his neck, he glanced back at the bed. The lump that was Breanne hadn’t budged. Good. She was going to be a good girl and go to sleep.

  He only wished he could, but as he was currently hard enough to pound nails, he doubted sleep would come any time soon. James would have smacked him upside the head for turning down the sexiest, hottest woman he’d ever seen. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. He was truly an idiot.

  Suddenly exhausted, he dropped into the chair, sprawled out his legs, and tipped his head back. Closed his eyes.

  His mind did not turn off. Nope, it kept whirring and cranking out disturbing thoughts.

  Wake her up.

  Tell her you changed your mind—

  Better yet, show her you’ve changed your mind.

  “Cooper?”

  He opened his eyes to find her standing right in front of him, his living fantasy in the flesh. “Thought you’d gone to sleep,” he said.

  Slowly she shook her head.

  “You should go to sleep.” He was sounding a bit desperate, even to his own ears, but damn it, he could only take so much with her standing there two inches from him, looking as if maybe