Read Online Blame It on the Bikini by Natalie Anderson - Free Book Online Page B

exist. And the nearer he was, the worse it was. But she was just going to have to control that silly part of her body because she had an essay to write.
    ‘Relax and go finish your shift,’ he said, leading her past the queue and back into the crowded bar. ‘You’ll get the info you need and you’ve got all night to nail it.’
    Yeah, but it wasn’t the assignment she was thinking of nailing.

CHAPTER FIVE
    A S M YA went back to mixing concoctions behind the bar, she surreptitiously watched Brad head back to the three beautiful women. Okay, so he was just helping her out with her schoolwork. There was nothing more to his offer. That was fine, perfect in fact. Then a couple of his mates turned up and he introduced the babes to them. Then—Mya couldn’t help but notice—Brad stepped back from the conversation. And every time she glanced over—purely to see if their glasses needed refilling, of course—he was watching her. Time and time again their gazes met. And the thing was, he wasn’t even giving her the full maple-syrup look, but it had the same effect anyway.
    Yeah, she still wasn’t over the fact that he was the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on. It seemed there was a part of her that would always want him, no matter what else she had going on or how much of a player he was.
    And had he made the computer-access offer to win her over and into his bed? Possibly. Did that matter? Not really. Because she wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed. She’d be getting her assignment written.
    It was just before 1:00 a.m. before she could get away—early, as Brad had suggested. Brad’s two mates and the three babes had already left the bar, so he waswaiting alone, having swapped from drinking beer to soda water hours ago. He straightened from the wall he was leaning against as she neared, her heavy satchel over her shoulder.
    ‘Your place is really only a few minutes away?’ she asked, determined to stay matter-of-fact and not crawl up against him and beg him to take her to bed and have his wicked way with her so she’d mindlessly fall into sleep the way she ached to.
    He nodded.
    Sure enough, just down the road and around the corner from the row of eclectic shops and bars in the more ‘alternative’ area of town was a street of small, old villas. Every single one of them had been stylishly renovated and looked gorgeous and no doubt cost a mint.
    ‘Why do you live here?’ It was nothing like the exclusive suburb in which he’d grown up with the massive modern houses and immaculate lawns.
    ‘I like the mix in the neighbourhood.’ He shrugged. ‘Lots of good restaurants nearby and it’s central.’
    ‘You don’t cook?’
    ‘Not often,’ he admitted with a flash of a smile.
    She waited by the potted rosebush on the wooden veranda while he unlocked the villa and put in the code for the security system. And she knew he was wrong. She couldn’t possibly concentrate here, not with him around.
    ‘Let me give you the tour,’ he said as he led her the length of the wooden-floored hallway.
    ‘I don’t need to see your private things.’ She regretted this now. She’d have been better off winging the assignment by cobbling together an average essay with reference to just the few textbooks she had in her flat.
    ‘Yes, you do. Otherwise you’ll be curious, and if you’re curious you won’t be able to concentrate.’
    She managed a smile. ‘Because all women are curious about seeing your room?’
    ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Kitchen and lounge are this way.’
    They faced out to the back of the house, the garden not visible this time of night. For a guy who didn’t cook, he still had all the mod cons in the kitchen. She stayed in the doorway, really not wanting to take in the atmosphere of being in his personal space.
    ‘Guest bathroom this way.’ He brushed past her as he stepped back out to the hall and opened a door on the other side of it. ‘Then there are a couple of spare bedrooms. One is my