Playing the Playboy Read online

  It took her a minute to figure out where she was and then another minute to figure out why she’d slept in one of the guestrooms instead of her own bed.

  Her head was fuzzy and, when she tried to roll over to look at the clock, her back caught painfully.

  She let out a breath and remembered.

  A few minutes of attempted movement proved that her back wasn’t much better this morning. Last night, she hadn’t been able to move at all. Agatha had brought her ibuprofen and loose clothes to change into, and then she’d helped Laurel wash up and brought in some dinner later in the evening.

  This morning, if she moved very carefully, she could manage to turn over on her side and reach the bottle of water on the nightstand.

  Nothing was more frustrating for Laurel than being forced to do nothing but lie still, and nothing made her mind spin more out of control. Last night, she’d been so stressed and in so much pain that she’d asked Agatha to get the prescription medication she kept for emergencies. She hated to take it, since it made her head spin sickeningly, but anything was better than being battered by physical pain and endless worries all night.

  Andrew had stopped by once after dinner. Since he’d looked concerned about her and not obnoxious or gloating, she hadn’t bitten his head off the way she’d wanted. She’d told him she was fine, thanked him for his help, and said good-night.

  It was bad enough to be helpless and unable to do basic tasks on her own. She couldn’t stand for Andrew to see her that way.

  From the way she felt at the moment, she wouldn’t be able to walk today without help, and she wouldn’t be able to do any work for several more days.

  It was like a nightmare—to be so utterly helpless when her whole future was on the line.

  Very slowly, she eased her legs over the side of the bed and, after several minutes of breathing and fighting the dizziness, she managed to sit up.

  She needed to go to the bathroom, but she wasn’t sure she could manage the walk to the adjoining bathroom.

  She was thinking through her options when Agatha came in.

  “What do you do?” the older woman demanded. “Back in bed. Rest, rest.”

  “Can you help me to the bathroom?”

  It was a very painful walk, and she let out a relieved sigh once she was lying down again, freed of the strain of holding her body very still lest she jar her back.

  “How is everything?” she asked Agatha, hating the fact that she didn’t know even the most basic details about the household.

  “Everything is well. Hector worked the garden this morning, and I made breakfast. I will bring you some.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  Obviously knowing who “he” was, Agatha replied, “He finished the shed yesterday.”

  “He what?”

  “He finished it. Then he moved all the supplies inside once more.”

  Laurel was irrationally annoyed by this fact, but she didn’t have any real grounds for complaint, so she didn’t say anything.

  “This morning, he’s out running.”

  Evidently, Andrew had decided that he didn’t have to stay holed up in his room anymore. With her indisposed, he must feel safe enough to leave his stuff unattended in his room.

  “Well, let me know if he gets in the way.”

  Agatha shook his head. “He is not trouble.”

  “I thought you said he was bad news and he needed to go.”

  “The signs have changed. All is well. He is very kind.”

  “What do you mean he’s kind? He’s trying to kick us out of our home!”

  “Even so, he treats me like a person. And Hector. The signs have changed. He can stay. All is well.”

  “He can’t stay! Agatha!” Laurel realized she was sputtering, so she forced herself to stop. She felt betrayed by one of her few allies.

  “You rest,” Agatha said, patting Laurel’s arm. “I bring breakfast.”

  Laurel didn’t want breakfast. She wanted her life to return to normal. She wanted her back to get miraculously better, and she wanted Andrew to be gone. How he’d managed to turn everything upside down—even Agatha’s doom-saying—she didn’t know. She didn’t like it, though. The sooner he disappeared, the better.

  A few minutes later, the door swung open again. She was staring out the window, which she could see when she turned her head all the way toward the wall, and she didn’t have the energy to turn it back toward the door.

  “Thanks, Agatha, but I’m not very hungry. If you can just leave it, maybe I’ll eat something later. Can you just get me some ibuprofen?”

  She heard Agatha set down the tray on the side table. Then she heard the bottle of ibuprofen rattle from the other side of the room. She sensed more than heard Agatha come back toward the bed, and it was only then that she realized something was off.

  It didn’t smell like Agatha—who always smelled like the menthol lotion she used daily. It smelled like…

  “You shouldn’t take ibuprofen on an empty stomach.”

  Laurel gasped at the sound of Andrew’s voice right next to the bed. She jerked around to look and in the process jarred her back. She gasped again in pain.

  He’d obviously gotten back from running, since he wore his running shorts and a t-shirt that was sticking to his chest. He hadn’t shaved yet, and he looked obnoxiously attractive and scruffy. “Take it easy,” he said, his brows drawing together, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “I did hurt myself,” she gritted out. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing your breakfast. Agatha asked me to. Do you want the ibuprofen?”

  Laurel took the pills, since she needed the pain reliever, but once she’d swallowed them, she said, “Agatha wouldn’t have asked you to do that.’

  His lip turned up slightly in that appealing way. “I was coming to see you anyway, so I told Agatha I’d bring it for you. She likes me now so she agreed.”

  “What makes you think she likes you?”

  “She’s stopped sprinkling salt everywhere I go. What was that for, anyway? I don’t think it was really for luck.”

  Despite herself, Laurel couldn’t help but give a soft huff of laughter. “It’s for scaring away unwanted guests.”

  Andrew laughed. “See? I told you she likes me now. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I’m better.”

  “You don’t look better.”

  “Thanks a lot. I feel fine.”

  “Then why did you need the ibuprofen?”

  “Well, it still hurts, but it’s better than yesterday.” It was mostly a lie, but she didn’t care. She glared at him, hoping he would leave, since he was really getting on her nerves.

  He didn’t leave. He went over to the tray. “There’s coffee, yogurt and honey, fresh bread and boiled eggs. What would you like first?”

  “Just coffee. I told you I’m not hungry.”

  He passed her the mug of coffee. She had a hard time sipping it, since she was lying flat on her back. She set the mug on the nightstand and tried to push herself up with both hands into more of a sitting position. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and after a minute she collapsed down, no more upright than she’d been originally.

  Andrew reached over and started to help her, but she jerked away from him instinctively.

  “For Christ’s sake, Laurel,” he muttered.

  She swallowed hard and was relieved when she came up with a plausible explanation for her reluctance. “You’re all sweaty.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And what would your excuse be if I’d showered first?”

  There was no use pretending. He obviously knew how much she didn’t want his help—even in the smallest of ways. She finally said, “I don’t need your help.”

  It occurred to her that his help could be strategic. He might somehow use it against her later. But it didn’t feel that way to her, which made it even harder to deal with.

  “You have to let someone help you eventually.”

  “A
gatha helps me.”

  “You pay Agatha,” Andrew murmured, his green eyes scrutinizing her face in that way he had, as if he could see into her soul. “So you don’t have to consider it help. Why won’t you let anyone help you?”

  The question bothered her—a lot—so she didn’t answer it. The truth was that, other than her grandparents, she’d never had anyone to really help her until she’d gotten married. And then she’d relied on her husband too much and had suffered the consequences when she discovered how much he’d kept from her, all in a misguided attempt to protect her.

  She fidgeted with her pillow, with much effort adding another pillow so she could lift her head higher. Then she tried to force herself into a reclining position. It hurt horribly, but she pushed through the pain and finally got adjusted enough to drink her coffee.

  It wasn’t at all comfortable, but she was willing to deal with that.

  Her back hurt. Andrew was still standing there staring at her. And she was out of breath just from trying to rearrange herself on the bed.

  She sipped her coffee and tried not to cry.

  “Laurel?” Andrew prompted eventually.

  She looked back at him and snapped, “What do you want?”

  “I’d asked you a question, and you didn’t answer it.”

  She thought back. “I’ve always done fine on my own.”

  “I know you have, but being invulnerable catches up to everyone eventually.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything.

  Andrew reached over and readjusted her pillow, pulling it into a better position. Then he lifted her shoulders and helped raise her up higher so her back wasn’t at such a bad angle. She was much more comfortable when she leaned back again. “Thank you,” she mumbled, resenting the fact that she had to say it.

  “You’re welcome,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “You can leave now.”

  “You haven’t had breakfast yet. What do you want?”

  She didn’t want anything, but she could tell he was going to be stubborn. She might have become irrationally defiant lately—thanks to her uncharacteristic reactions to Andrew—but she still believed in efficiency. She’d get rid of him faster if she ate breakfast.

  So she ate.

  Then Andrew brought her laptop into the room, so she was able to do a little work.

  Then she took a nap.

  Then she ate lunch.

  She was doing some stretches on the bed, trying to bring each of her knees up to her chest to stretch out her lower back but not getting very far, when Andrew came in again. He brought her the newspaper. He stayed to chat over the news, local columns, and eccentric advertisements.

  Then she took another nap, mostly because she didn’t have anything else to do.

  Then it was dinner, and Andrew came to eat with her. She was so bored at that point that she didn’t even complain. He told her about adventures he’d had—going skydiving, climbing Everest, spelunking. And she told him about the history of Santorini and the archeological sites on the other side of the island.

  Later that night, she was actually a little disappointed that it was Hector who brought her a cup of herbal tea. She’d half been expecting Andrew.

  Hector never said much, but at her question he told her Andrew was on the phone.

  Business, she assumed. Unless he had a girlfriend. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  But, no. She didn’t think that was likely. He wouldn’t have had sex with her if he’d had a girlfriend. He wasn’t that kind of man. He might treat sex casually, but he wouldn’t cheat on a girlfriend. She didn’t think he would cheat anyone on purpose.

  She was sure he genuinely believed that the inn belonged to his family and not to her.

  “You feel better?” Hector asked.

  “Yes,” she said, shaking herself out of her thoughts, “Thank you. I think tomorrow I’ll be able to walk a little.”

  Hector nodded. “You feel better about him?”

  Laurel blinked. It was impossible to misinterpret his meaning. “Why do you say that?”

  “He likes you.”

  “He doesn’t—”

  “Yes. He does.” Hector nodded again, his grizzled face reflecting something like satisfaction. “I see. We are all good now.”

  As if that answered all of their problems, he left, still nodding his approval.

  Laurel was left with a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of rising excitement that made absolutely no sense. It took several hours to get her mind back under control.

  ***

  The next morning, Laurel could get out of bed and make it to the bathroom on her own, but it was four days later before she really felt like she could move somewhat normally.

  She was so relieved to get out of bed without needing to rest and prep herself first that she wanted to do a little jig. She didn’t, of course. She took it slowly, not wanting to move too fast and end up back in bed again. She ate the breakfast Agatha brought her. Andrew was evidently on the phone again—he’d been working a lot for the last four days, probably making plans about the inn while she was in bed helpless.

  Then Laurel managed to take a shower in the adjoining bathroom and change into a clean t-shirt and yoga pants.

  The muscles of her back were still tight, but the throbbing catch was gone. So she decided to do some stretches to see if she could work out the lingering tension.

  The stretches helped, and gradually she could do even more. She had her legs spread and was bending over, planting her hands on the floor, when she was conscious of someone else in the room.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, recognizing Andrew in the doorway. “Can’t you knock?”

  “The door was open.”

  “The door was cracked. Knocking is still polite.”

  He knocked on the open door.

  She sighed and slowly pulled herself up to a standing position. “What did you need?”

  “I was just seeing how you were doing. Since you’re doing yoga, I assume you’re feeling better.”

  “I’m just stretching my back,” she told him, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. She wished he hadn’t caught her with her ass in the air. They’d been on friendly terms for the last few days—since Andrew had gone out of his way to be accommodating and keep her entertained, and they’d resolutely avoided any talk about the inn.

  She couldn’t help but think about what Hector had said a few nights ago. She wondered if it was true. “And, yes, I’m feeling better.”

  “Good.”

  He kept looking at her and didn’t move out of the doorway.

  His hair was rumpled, and there was that barely suppressed smile on his mouth. She’d never seen anyone quite so irresistible. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to do other things to him. None of which were acceptable, given the circumstances. So she just said, “Do you mind getting out of the way?”

  ***

  Andrew wished he hadn’t seen Laurel bent over that way, her long legs and lush ass on tempting display. She was incredibly flexible. Incredibly gorgeous.

  He’d been doing pretty well for the last several days keeping his lust under control, but now it was in overdrive again.

  He was relieved Laurel was feeling better. In some ways, it had helped that she’d been in so much pain—it kept him from fantasizing about her in bed with him in any number of creative positions. Weakness was so uncharacteristic of her, however, that he was glad to see her looking more like herself.

  He felt like he’d been on the phone for the last four days, trying to figure out any possible way to satisfy his uncle and not leave Laurel homeless and destitute. So far, he couldn’t think of any option that she wouldn’t immediately reject that his uncle would also accept.

  He was running out of time.

  Now, unfortunately, he also had to deal with his unruly body, which was still thinking about Laurel in the yoga position.

  He had a feeling it was going to b
e a frustrating day.

  He was right. He had another futile conversation with his uncle, who finally told him that, if he didn’t decide on a course of action soon, he was going to send someone else out to take charge of the situation.

  Andrew hated the idea of failing his uncle on the first real responsibility he was given, but he couldn’t stand the thought of gaining possession of the inn at Laurel’s expense.

  She’d told him the inn meant everything to her, and he knew that was true. There must be some way of figuring this out.

  In the middle of the afternoon, he got frustrated with just spinning his wheels, so he gave up and went to see what Laurel was doing.

  She wasn’t in the room she’d been staying in this week. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the garden. He finally found her heading out through the lobby with the dogs trailing behind her.

  He had to jog to catch up with her. “You must be feeling better,” he said when he fell in step beside her. The dogs ran over to greet him, and he reached out to stroke each of them in turn.

  “I am,” she said with a smile. “My back’s a lot better, and the poor dogs really needed a walk.”

  He frowned. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have been happy to take them.”

  “Why would you take my dogs for a walk?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She shrugged. She was wearing a broad brimmed straw hat and a little black knit sundress that flared out and fluttered around her long legs. “So I guess you’re coming on the walk with us?”

  “Is that all right?”

  “Sure. We’re just going to the beach again.”

  He assumed, from her expression, that she was accepting his company, not because she felt genuine warmth for him, but because she wanted to pretend she didn’t care about him one way or the other. But she didn’t hate him anymore. He was sure of that.

  They walked in companionable silence until they turned off on the path that led to the beach. Andrew smiled when the dogs barked ecstatically and started galloping around, sniffing and snorting at their favorite spots.

  “How did you get the dogs?”

  “They were abandoned as puppies. Just left on the side of the road. I found them.”

  “So you kept them all?”