Trouble in Paradise (Romantic Suspense, Completed)

Chapter 10

I walked nervously up the path to Adam's villa. Was my hair all right? I'd avoided wearing any makeup because that would look as if I was trying too hard for our study-date. Session. Study-session. I breathed into my hand and sniffed. Good, I wasn't going to knock him out.

I tapped on the door.

"It's open," he called.

I pushed against it, holding my textbook in front of my chest like a shield. As I stepped inside, Adam was walking out of the bathroom, tugging a T-shirt down over his head.

I caught a glimpse of his six—no, wait a minute—eight-pack and felt a rush of heat somewhere I really shouldn't.

Think of boring things, Callie. Like grocery shopping and housework and, oh yeah, dive time calculations.

And don't freaking pant!

I perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to do a runner at a moment's notice. The seat dipped as he sat down beside me, and I tipped towards him. No, no, no. I pushed myself upright and made a show of opening my book. My pen... Where was my pen?

"Shall we start?" I asked.

What was that little smile? Why did I amuse him? "Yeah, sure."

After half an hour of him patiently explaining, drawing diagrams, and walking me through calculations, it finally clicked. I leapt up and did a happy dance, and then I lost my freaking mind and flung my arms around him. Then I realised what I'd done, released my grip, and stumbled backwards over my own damn feet. My backside hit the floor, but was my moment of mortification complete? No, of course it wasn't. The tinny sound of Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" sounded from my pocket, and I felt the colour drain from my face. Drip, drip, drip. All the blood seeped down to my feet.

"What's up?" Adam's voice sounded like it was coming from a distance. "You've gone white."

I fished around for my phone, holding it as if it was a piece of dog turd. Bryce calling flashed up on the screen.

Then it stopped. I breathed again.

Two seconds later, Celine was back, because Bryce never had known how to take a hint. I snatched it up and answered, stalking to the other side of the room. Without thinking, I sat on the edge of Adam's bed.

"Bryce?"

"Of course it's Bryce. Who else would it be?" he snapped.

Why was he being so snippy? "What do you want?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. I can't get into your apartment."

"Why not?"

"Because you've changed the locks, or do you not remember? Really, Callista, I didn't expect such barefaced hostility from you. I'm extremely perturbed."

"I didn't change the locks. Are you sure you're using the right key?"

"Of course I am. We were together for a considerable length of time, if you recall? I believe I can remember which key operates your lock."

"I don't know what to suggest."

"Well, I do. I strongly recommend you return immediately from wherever you're residing and assist me with my entrance."

"Bryce, I'm not even in the country." Tendrils of comprehension filtered into my brain, and I clenched my teeth. "Wait a minute. Why are you trying to get into my apartment?"

We'd never lived together. Bryce had always been reluctant to commit to that without having formal paperwork in place. A marriage certificate. Apparently, a signed lease agreement didn't count.