All Riled Up: Trapped! / Riley

Ethan shook his head at the gesture, until he realized that her stance made the robe gap just a little above and below the belt. It showed a length of her legs—which he’d seen a gazillion times, for crying out loud—and her cleavage, which he knew she had but he hadn’t seen much before now.

Everything male within him went on alert, and he mumbled, “It is not nonsense.”

“Are you talking to me or my boobs?”

Flabbergasted, Ethan jerked his gaze up to her face, saw her smile and wanted to shout with frustration. Ruthlessly he beat his male instincts into submission. “You.”

“Huh. And here I was certain my ears were on my head, not my chest.”

In a ridiculous show of temper, he threw the garbage bag down on the floor. “Damn it, Rosie, what is wrong with you? What are you up to?”

She shrugged, then groaned dramatically. “I need some aspirin.”

Dismissing him, she turned to the cabinet and began riffling around until Ethan said, “Here, I keep them over the stove.” He shook out two white pills and handed them to her. A new thought occurred to him. “You hungover, too?”

She lifted the aspirin off his palm, tossed them into her mouth and bent her head into the sink to grab a drink of water straight from the tap. When she’d finished, she shook her head. “No, of course not.”

He hadn’t thought so. Rosie was never much of a drinker. Come to that, he wasn’t, either, and he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for overindulging last night. “If you’re not suffering from too much drink, then what’s your problem?”

“I just have a headache from lack of sleep, actually.” She sent him a calculated look. “We didn’t get to bed till late.”

His chest constricted. Why hadn’t she gotten enough sleep? She’d been dead-out when he’d awakened.

The washer buzzed and Rosie stepped into the small laundry room off the kitchen to put her clothes in the dryer, giving Ethan a moment to think.

There had to be any number of reasons why she’d been in his bed, other than the most distressing one. Why she didn’t want to tell him, he couldn’t say. Sometimes Rosie could be difficult for no apparent reason.

But he’d get the truth out of her, one way or another.

“Hey, Ethan?”

He stayed in the kitchen, unwilling to test his resolve by getting near her again. “Yeah?”

“Did you mean that I couldn’t be trusted, or women in general?”

Oh, hell, he didn’t want to have this discussion with her. He jammed a carton of sour milk into the bag with more force than was necessary. Just getting the garbage off the countertops and off the floor made his place look much cleaner. Normally it didn’t get so bad, but on top of the lousy week, he’d really been dreading the party last night. For days, cleaning had been the last thing on his mind.

“Is this a tough question, Ethan?”

Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, he gave her the truth. “I meant all women.”

“Really?” The silence was telling. “Including me?” She strolled back in, her eyes a flat gray—not a good sign.

“Rosie, let’s drop this, okay?” Ethan could already tell she was up for an argument. He wasn’t. He needed to know that he hadn’t... touched her. And then he needed more sleep.

“No, it’s not okay.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “You’ve insulted me.”

He stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her breasts again. “How about if I just apologize?”

“Not if you aren’t sincere.” She sighed, sounding a little defeated. “You know, I fully intended to tell you everything.”

Everything? He gave up his study of the ceiling and met her gaze. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know.” She flapped a hand. “Why I’m here, what I want, stuff like that.”

What she wanted? Ethan tied the bag shut and set it aside. If she kept this up, his head would explode. “Okay, let’s get this over with. What do you want?”

Her mischievous smile came slowly, accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, you’d like to rush me through this, wouldn’t you? But why? You weren’t in a rush last night.”

He reached for her and she ducked away, laughing. “I still can’t believe you forgot everything from last night.”

Two deep breaths didn’t help Ethan to contain his temper. “There wasn’t much to forget, now was there?”

“There was enough.”

His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “If that’s true, then you took advantage of my drunken state—which proves what I said. Women can’t be trusted.”

“Some women, maybe.”

“Like a woman who sleeps with a guy she knows is drunk?”

She winced, pretending to be wounded, but her grin told the real story. “Okay, let’s back up. When you spout all that baloney about women not being trustworthy, you make yourself look really pathetic.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. It shows that Michelle really did a number on you and that you let her.”

Oh, no, no way. He didn’t want to talk about Michelle. He didn’t even want to hear Michelle’s name. Not now, not ever. “Be smart, Rosie, and keep her out of this.”

Of course she didn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t be Rosie if she did. “Why? That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? You got jilted and you’ve been playing the wounded swain ever since.”

“It’s none of your business. You’re a friend, not my mother, not my confessor.”

“Damn right I’m your friend.”

She put her hands on her hips again, but this time Ethan was too annoyed to admire her cleavage. Rosie’s anger struck him in waves and left him a little awed. He’d only witnessed her fierce temper a handful of times.

“I’ve had enough of you dragging around with your tail between your legs.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t growl at me, Ethan Winters. What would you call it? You date every single girl within a three-hundred-mile radius—but only once. You make cracks about women all the time—and in case you’ve failed to notice, I’m a woman.”

“I noticed.”

That shut her up, even left her bemused, but only for a moment. Her chin lifted. “Yeah, well, when you belittle half of humanity—”

“The female half. And I don’t belittle them, I just look at them realistically. I see them for how they are.”