Finding Mr. Wrong Read online

  The accusation was clear in his question; the taunt clear in the way he moved even closer and leaned down until his nose almost touched mine. His greenish-brown eyes seared lasers right through mine. It took me about three seconds too long to react, but three seconds was long enough for an arrogant smile to tilt the corners of his gorgeous lips. My tongue betrayed me by poking out to dampen my own lips, causing that smile to spread. Dammit, he irked me with the way he stood staring, but I couldn’t get my brain to function in any capacity.

  I took a step backward and scoffed. “Oh please. I’m in this for one reason, and you fit the bill perfectly, Mr. Wrong.”

  “Yeah? What reason is that? A hot, mindless, emotionless fuck? Because that’s all I’ll agree to.”

  “Not on your life,” came out of my mouth, but my brain thought, I’m good with that. Stomping over to my suitcase, I grabbed my toiletry bag and pajamas. “You’re an ass, and you can take the couch.”

  Jude pointed to what was more of a loveseat on the opposite side of the room next to the desk and a small table. “That thing? You want me to sleep on that?”

  “Yep.” The more I studied him, the more I was certain there was no way he’d be comfortable on it. Here we were together just two hours, and I already sentenced him to the couch. I could offer half the bed, but screw him. This could be the last good night of sleep I’d get for six weeks.

  He plopped down on the end of the sofa and yanked his shoes off while speaking in his foreign tongue again.

  “I have no idea what you’re saying. Is that Greek?”

  In a curt tone, he replied, “No, I’m Swedish.”

  “Do you live in Sweden?” I asked, panicked. If we went to the end, there was no way I was moving to Sweden.

  “I’m from Sweden. I live in New York.”

  I didn’t bother hiding my sigh of relief. The scowl on his face deepened. He was insanely handsome, but his anger put his gorgeousness on steroids. The well-defined lines of his amazing physique were visible beneath the white fabric of his dress shirt. Even his fingers had muscles. Everything about the man screamed sex. The way my body automatically began Kegel exercises once again confirmed I was screwed.

  Before he picked up on the fact that I stood rooted while staring at him, I stormed into the bathroom with my small overnight bag and slammed the door. As much as I despised him at the moment, he was still getting under my skin. Even the mint flavor of my toothpaste couldn’t rid my memory of what Jude tasted like. Everything about that kiss was a mystery. So many questions swirled in my brain.

  Why did he kiss me that way? Why did I let him? Would he do it again? However, the one question that had me wondering was: would he want to? Especially after his outburst, there was nothing indicating he’d ever want to again.

  Wait . . . why should I care if he did?

  Cassie’s words, “you’re crazy,” seemed prophetic. Because now that I was here with a door separating me from the most annoying, conceited, arrogant, gorgeous man I’d ever met, she was one hundred percent correct.

  Since screaming at my reflection wasn’t an option without my roommate thinking I was certifiable, I continued my nighttime routine. I had a way and order in which things needed to be done. My methods kept me calm. Vanessa would tell me I was OCD, but it was a great system that worked, so I stuck with it. Everything I did had a rhyme or reason. My routine started with my six-step cleansing ritual, a four-step moisturizing process, brushing my hair ten times, and then slipping into my sensible pajamas. Before I opened the door, I grabbed the box of tissues to keep on the nightstand.

  Jude was standing just outside the bathroom with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Took you long enough. What the hell were you doing in there?”

  Before I could get a word out, he took a step back and looked at me from head to toe. It wasn’t a sly or quick glance. No, he made a production out of it, making me feel self-conscious in my pink pajama short set.

  Our arms brushed as he walked past me into the bathroom. He let out a chuckle just before closing the door. Ass. Deciding to expedite the sleeping arrangements, I tossed a pillow and blanket from the bed onto the small sofa.

  I sank my head in the plushness of the feather pillow, tucked the comforter under my chin, shimmied on the thousand-thread count sheet, closed my eyes, and prayed Jude didn’t snore. They sprung open only a minute or so later when he emerged from the bathroom.

  His routine was shorter than mine. He stood wearing nothing but a very tight-fitting pair of white boxer briefs. Through them, the outline of a thick, long shaft was clear as day. His abs were ridiculous, and I counted at least eight. My eyes focused on his unique tattoos. Two simple bands around his right forearm, as well as a line of graduated stars that curved from his armpit down to his happy trail. They were nothing less than an orgasmic orbit of sorts, a beacon guiding me toward the promise of something wonderful . . . and based on the visible outline of that something in those briefs, it would be sure to rock my world.

  The nail in my coffin would have to be the sexiest happy trail I’d ever seen, and I was a sucker for them. Just the thinnest line of dark hair, perfectly centered in the middle of his abs and extending down over his belly-button before disappearing behind the waistband of his briefs.

  I gasped—yes, gasped . . . an embarrassing audible puff of air that I sucked down my dry, parched throat echoed in the room. The obvious sound floated from my mouth to his ears. By the time my eyes found their way back up to his face, I was beet red and he was gloating. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded and an obnoxious smirk on his lips over having caught me ogling him.

  “Would you like me to turn around so you can get a good look at my ass as well?” he asked on a chuckle. “Or I could just remove these to save you unnecessary eye strain,” he added, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and lowering them just enough to cause panic.

  “No!” I yelped, covering my eyes in case he wasn’t bluffing. The chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh as I heard him cross the room. When I chanced a peek, he was standing in front of the tiny couch, his hands on his hips and his back to me. I took the opportunity to go ahead and check out his fine ass, the defined muscles of his back and shoulders, and the peppering of hair on his exposed upper thighs.

  “While you were hogging the bathroom, I decided I’m not sleeping on that thing,” he said, turning to face me with a scowl. “I’m six-three.”

  “The carpet is nice and plush. I’m sure it would be comfy for you.”

  “I’ve never slept on the floor in my entire life, and I don’t plan to now.” He snatched his pillow and walked over to the other side of the bed. I sat up, annoyed at his gall while he promptly ignored my scowl. The bed dipped beside me and he punched the pillow a few times before turning his back to me, ignoring the comforter beneath him.

  “Night, Sparky.” When he reached over to shut off the lamp, the fabric of his briefs dipped into the crevice of his ass. I stifled a moan.

  “First of all, it’s Brae. Second, you aren’t sleeping here.” Having the lights out was way too dangerous. I huffed as I got out of bed and stalked over to the bathroom, flipping on the light. “This stays on,” I demanded.

  When the bright beam hit him in the face, he groaned, “God, you’re a pain in the ass. I guess you don’t trust yourself?”

  “It’s you I don’t trust.”

  “Relax. When I make a move on you, you’ll be forewarned.” He flipped onto his back, putting his right hand behind his head. “But, if you want this,” he said, waving his left hand over his body, “by all means, have at it, Sparky. Even if I’m out cold, I invite you to go for it. I love surprises.”

  “Ugh!” I snatched my pillow and moved to the small couch, repeating my mantra over and over as he chuckled at me in the dimly lit room.

  Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your eye on the prize. When I shut my eyes to try to fall asleep, the prize I visualized was a six-foot-three Swede.

>   Chapter 6

  Jude

  Great, she snores.

  I just had the worst sleep of my life in the most comfortable bed, and the only thing I could attribute it to was the gorgeous buzz saw currently sprawled on the couch. Something kept waking me just as I fell back asleep. At first, I thought there was a cat in the room, but considering I’m allergic to cats, I knew that wasn’t the case. No, this loud purring came from my new roommate.

  When my eyes focused on her, I did my best to refrain from chuckling. Brae was sprawled out like a disjointed starfish. The blanket that once covered her body now lay on the floor.

  Her chestnut brown hair created a veil over her delicate face, wavy strands vibrating with each rumble erupting from her chest. Taking advantage of her comatose state, I walked closer to finally get a good look at her body. I scanned every inch from head to toe, inspecting her like an exotic sports car.

  The knit fabric of her shirt outlined her fairly large breasts, which my hands could handle. A sliver of bare skin on her flat stomach and those gorgeous legs had me growing with excitement. I already knew what her chocolate brown eyes looked like and how her pouty lips tasted. The memory of kissing her along with seeing her sprawled out caused my excitement to worsen.

  I really should’ve taken a cold shower. If she were to wake now, there would be no hiding my hard-on. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand showed it was eight a.m. It wouldn’t be long before those clowns running this show would appear. I debated between showering or waking her, but another loud snore forced my hand. It was time to have some fun with the future Mrs. Soren.

  Stepping right beside where her head lay on the couch, I crouched down with my hands on my knees, and yelled, “Wake up, Sparky!”

  The way her body comically jolted, forcing her to fall off the couch and land at my feet, was one of the funniest sights I’d ever seen up close. I cracked up laughing, doubling over her body with my own. Gorgeous brown eyes blazing with anger glared up at me. “You’re an asshole.”

  A response wasn’t possible; I couldn’t stop the hysterics overtaking me. Through my tears, I watched her lift a cushion from the couch. As the cotton connected with my cheek, the sting did little to calm my laughter.

  “Oh my God, Sparky. That was hilarious.”

  “Stop calling me that!” She clamored from between my legs in quite an unladylike fashion into a standing position.

  “Okay, I just changed your name to kitten.” She folded her arms beneath her ample breasts, shooting daggers at me as she did. “Be thankful I’m not Native American or your name would be Snoring Kitten.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  Another fit of laughter erupted. “You just earned yourself a video proving you do. I can’t wait until you fall asleep tonight.”

  In a huff, she spun around, ignoring my comment. The floor vibrated as she stomped her feet into the bathroom just before she slammed the door, again. She did that last night, and ended up in the bathroom for a very long time.

  Dammit, I should have peed first. I rapped my knuckles on the door. “Hey, Kitten, before you lock yourself in there for an hour, I need to take a piss.”

  The door swung open. “You’re disgusting. There’s no need to be so crass.”

  I flashed her a sweet smile. “Kitten, I need to relieve my bladder, may I please use the lavatory?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

  “Stop calling me kitten,” she snarled. She was one pissed off little cat.

  “I’m sorry, do you prefer pussy? Because I know I do.”

  With another huff, she slammed the door. “Now you can hold it,” came from beyond the wooden panel.

  “Fuck.”

  There was a knock on the outside door. Realizing I was still in my boxers with stiff morning wood, I grabbed the blanket off the floor and slung it around my waist.

  Barbi stood in the hallway donning her beauty queen look. Her fake eyelashes were so long, I swore I felt a breeze when she blinked.

  Her eyes looked down to the small tent below my waist. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  My dick throbbed with the need to relieve itself. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  She pulled out a large manila envelope. “These are your boarding passes. A car will be waiting downstairs in one hour to take you to the airport. Breakfast will be arriving shortly.”

  “Thank you.” I took the envelope from her and hurried to shut the door.

  I could hear the shower running. Great. “Brae, I need to come in. Be prepared for me to break this door down or open it now.”

  The water turned off, and an image of Brae naked suddenly flashed in front of my eyes. In my visual, water droplets rolled from the ends of her hair down her ample breasts toward her navel and over the curve of her pussy. God, she was stunning, even in my thoughts.

  “You’re such a pain.” Brae flung the door open wearing a towel around her body like a strapless dress and a turban on her head.

  Without acknowledging her, I pushed forward, raised the toilet seat, and shifted to pull my boxers down. That’s when I looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror. “Sparky, I’m not shy. If you want to continue watching, feel free. If not, I suggest you stop staring.”

  That was all it took for her to turn and walk out, slamming the door behind her. I couldn’t remember when taking a piss ever felt this good or lasted this long. It was like the scene from Austin Powers. As soon as I thought I was done, there was more to come. What seemed like an eternity later, I finally flushed.

  Without asking for permission, I turned the shower on. Steam scented with a pleasant sweet smell billowed around me in the small stall. I figured it to be whatever shampoo or body wash Brae used. It reminded me of her. When I looked on the shelf, sure enough, there was a small white bottle with a green apple on it.

  I quickly washed up, dried off, brushed my teeth, and opened the door to join my new roommate. My first instinct was to tease her a bit more, but through the mirror on the wall, I could see the solemn look on her face as she stared out the window.

  “Everything okay?” She shifted to look at me. The soft pink dress she wore landed just above her knees.

  “Yes, everything is fine. I’m just hoping there are two bathrooms where we’ll be staying on the island.” All I could do was smile. I wished for the same. “Are you done in there, or do you need to shave?”

  Running my hand along my stubbled jaw, I smiled. “No. I’m all set.”

  “Great, because I need to finish getting ready.” She didn’t close the door this time, which was fine with me, except I needed to get dressed. I slipped on a pair of tan shorts and a navy T-shirt.

  “Room service,” came from the hallway, followed by a knock.

  Brae rushed out of the bathroom with damp hair and opened the door. Apparently, she was hungry.

  A beautiful redhead wheeled the cart in. Her uniform looked like something out of a fantasy French maid catalog. I reached into my pocket for a tip, but when I handed it to her, she wouldn’t take it.

  “Your tip has been taken care of.” Something about that sentence had me thinking of Brae’s lips.

  “Well then, take another.” I slid the bills into the pocket on her small apron.

  She bit her lip and then smiled. “I’m Melanie. Will you be ordering lunch as well?”

  “Ahem,” Brae uttered in a sharp tone. “We will not be ordering lunch since we are checking out. Thank you and have a good day.” She stood with her hand on the edge of the door prepared to slam it. Hmmm . . . jealous Sparky was a sexy turn on.

  “Yes . . . well, have a nice day.” Melanie hurried out, leaving the cart of food behind.

  “Jealous, much?”

  “You already broke rule number one. While we’re together, we are not supposed to hit on other people. It’s in the contract.” She snagged a strawberry off the platter and bit into it, leaving just the green leafy stem between her fingers.

  “Let me guess, you’re a ru
le follower, and I wasn’t hitting on anyone.”

  “Yes, for the next six weeks, I’m following the rules to the letter. I don’t want to jeopardize losing the money. Plus, you don’t know when they’ll be watching us. For all we know, sweet Melanie could be a mole. If you can keep it in your pants, that would be peachy.” She ended her request with veiled sarcasm.

  Was she kidding? I crossed my arms and forced a laugh. “Sweetheart, technically we aren’t on the island yet. As far as keeping it in my pants, trust me, you’ll be the one begging for it to come out to play.”

  Brae

  I really shouldn’t have been shocked by anything he said. Knowing him all of twelve hours, I had a good indication of his personality. My sense of character was pretty spot on when it came to reading people. My eyes tracked him as he lifted the silver domes off the breakfast plates. He snatched a grape off one of the plates and popped it in his mouth. When his gaze fell on me, a half smile spread over his lips. “Hungry?”

  “Yes, but I definitely need coffee first.”

  “Ah, my kind of woman.” He pulled out one of the chairs at the small round table and motioned with his hand. “Have a seat.” His gentleman act surprised me. Ambling over, I sat in the chair he offered feeling it hit the back of my legs as he pushed it under me and closer to the table. In a smooth move, he took the linen napkin off the tray and flapped it open. “May I?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in question. On my nod, he gently placed it on my lap. With a smug smile, he sat across from me and poured us each coffee. A chivalrous prick, and there was something very sexy about that.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.