Hot SEAL, April's Fool Becca Jameson (philippa perry book txt) 📖

the second floor because she couldn’t think of another option. She figured it might be easier to get rid of him after she’d changed clothes and could look him in the eye without worrying about him seeing every outline of her bra.

And why on earth did it matter if he saw her bra or not? He’d seen every bra she owned ten years ago, most often on the floor of her childhood bedroom. He’d seen her naked more times than she could count.

But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t interested in sharing an inch of her skin with Cole Landry today.

When they reached her door, she pulled out her key and opened it with shaking hands, the jacket parting so she could do so. Once again, she tried to blow him off, and once again, he ignored her, pushing her door open and guiding her inside.

He seemed bossier than he had been ten years ago. A man who got what he wanted, and apparently he wanted to enter her apartment.

“Go change,” he insisted. “I’ll wait here, and then I’ll take you to lunch.”

She flinched as she looked at him again. “That’s not necessary.”

“I know it’s not, but it’s the least I can do after ruining your coffee.”

“Cole, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine. You drove me home. I don’t need lunch.” She had no interest in sitting across from him at a restaurant making small talk today or any other day. In fact, she cringed inwardly at the memory of the last time she’d seen him, the time he’d told her he would pick her up at seven to take her to dinner. He hadn’t shown up that night, and she’d never forgiven him.

He closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed to rein in his frustration. Good. She didn’t care if she totally pissed him off. “Go change, April.”

She humphed as she spun around and headed for her bedroom. As soon as she closed the door, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths. What a disaster. On top of the fact that she now had to entertain her ex-boyfriend on this shitty April Fool’s Day, she still needed to grab some clean clothes and walk back into the hallway to get to the bathroom. She would need to wash the sticky latte off her skin before she put on clean clothes.

Her apartment only had one bath and one bedroom. It was small, but it was hers. She’d been scraping by month by month for a while now, but she’d done it somehow.

Shoving off the door, she headed for the closet, grabbed a pair of jeans and a pink tank top, and then spun around to snag a clean bra from her drawers. Tucking all of this under her arm while still wrangling the jacket, she emerged from the bedroom and aimed straight for the bathroom without glancing toward the living room.

Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, door locked, she finally let out a breath and hooked the jacket on the back of the door. Her fingers were shaking as she removed her blouse and skirt, kicking off her heels at the same time. The bra was last, leaving her in white lace panties.

A glance in the mirror made her wince. Her skin was pink from the hot liquid. Luckily, it could have been worse, but it felt good when she wet a washcloth with cold water and soothed her skin.

Something about being nearly naked within a few yards of Cole made her pick up the pace. It was unnerving to think he was on the other side of this door. Her nipples were stiff peaks from the cold cloth; at least that’s what she told herself.

Why did the man have to be even better-looking than he had been when they were eighteen?

She finished dressing, grabbed his jacket, and exited the bathroom with the intent of looking him in the eye and getting rid of him as fast as possible. Her steps faltered as she entered the living room slash kitchen.

Cole was across the room, standing at the counter, stirring a steaming cup of coffee. She could smell it immediately. He turned around when she approached, lifting the mug toward her, a half-grin on his face. “It’s not The Bean Stop, but I figured you needed caffeine since your last cup never made it to your lips.”

She took the mug from him, careful to avoid touching his fingers. “Thank you,” she muttered. It was hard to be angry with a man who made her coffee.

He lifted the French vanilla creamer and put it back in the fridge. “I figured you liked a vanilla latte when I found this creamer and spotted your Keurig on the counter.”

She took another fortifying sip, wishing it would cool off faster so she could gulp it down. “Observant,” she whispered.

He wandered to her couch and dropped onto it with a sigh even though she wished he wouldn’t make himself comfortable. Clearly, he wasn’t leaving.

She shuffled toward her armchair and lowered onto the edge of it, back straight, coffee carefully between her palms. “What are you doing here, Cole?” Her voice sounded bitchy. Maybe that wasn’t necessary. After all, he’d done her a solid this morning. Two, if she counted making her coffee. She took another drink, grateful for the caffeine finally flowing through her veins.

He smirked. “Trying to apologize for spilling coffee on you.”

She shook her head, frustration growing. “Not here in my apartment. What are you doing here in town?”

“My dad died. I’m here to settle his affairs.” He said this so matter-of-factly that April’s eyes were huge saucers of shock.

She swallowed, lowering her half-empty coffee mug to her lap, glad that she hadn’t dropped it and dumped yet another coffee on herself. “Oh my God, Cole. I’m so sorry.” She felt like a world-class bitch.

He shrugged. Shrugged? “It is what it is.”

She licked her dry lips. “When is the funeral?”

“Tomorrow.”

Now she cleared her