Free Unwrapped by Chantilly White Page A

side of the tub, filled her ears.
    He inhaled. Scents of brown sugar, vanilla and something
floral—the candle wax—swirled through the air.
    "Mia?"
    Not wanting to startle her unduly, he'd whispered her name.
But between her iPod and the deep rumble of the motor on her jetted tub, there
was no way she'd hear him at that low volume. Judging by the angle of her
drooping head, her chin resting on her left shoulder and her lush mouth
slightly open, she was sound asleep.
    Tilting his head, he swept his gaze over her again, taking
in the shining dark mass of her hair piled high on top of her head and held
there by assorted clips. Wispy tendrils, curling with the heat, framed her
face, and a flush of pink brightened her cheeks. Her parted lips enticed him,
rosy and full and pillow soft. And her body. . . He wished the concealing
bubbles would dissipate.
    Derrick stood observing her another moment, until he started
to feel uncomfortably like a voyeur. Time to wake Sleeping Beauty.
    Pitching his voice loud enough to conquer the whirlpooling water
and her music, he called her once more. "Mia!" Then softly,
"Damn."
    As though struck by lightning, her arms flew out to her
sides, and she bolted straight up, sending water slopping over the edge of the
tub. The iPod and its tray disappeared into the froth of bubbles with a splash,
and her mouth opened wide in a piercing banshee scream sharp enough to slice
the ears off every man in a fifty-mile radius.
     
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
     
    Sloshing upright in a surge of adrenaline-spiked terror, her
heart bounding into her throat and blocking her breath, Mia whipped the sleep
mask off her face to find Derrick backed up against the sink.
    Both hands clasped over his ears, he was shouting,
"Sorry-sorry-sorry!" at the top of his lungs.
    "Are you out of your mind?" she shrieked.
"You scared the life out of me!"
    Slapping both hands at her heaving chest in uncontrollable
reflex, she gaped at him, panting to recover her breath. Her pulse crashed and
clanged, pushing the blood crazily through her veins, emptying her head and
filling her bursting heart. The room swayed in dizzy circles.
    A hockey-masked intruder wielding a butcher knife would have
startled her less.
    Her slapping hands slowed to rubbing, coaxing her heart back
into place. Begging her lungs to fill. Was this what a heart attack felt like?
    "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded,
her voice still high and reedy from lack of oxygen.
    Derrick held his hands out placatingly. "I'm
sorry."
    Belatedly realizing she sat poker-straight in the tub, her
breasts covered by only the thinnest slide of bubbles, Mia ducked beneath the
water and foam, glaring her fury. The fight-or-flight response still swirled in
confusion, her extremities going tingly and numb with the after-effects of
panic.
    "Oh, you're sorry. I'll show you sorry, you. . ."
He dared.
    Wishing for something to throw, she scrabbled her hands over
the bottom of the bathtub. Her fingers closed on the metal tray. With an
enraged growl, she tried to chuck it at him, but it caught in the cord of her
headphones.
    "Here, now," he said sharply, snatching the tray
and ruined iPod from her grasp. "Careful." He dropped them into the
sink at his back, then howled when her heavy bottle of bubble bath
landed—with force—on his bare foot. Standing on one leg to rub his
injured toes, he pinned her with a glare of his own. "Calm down."
    Already fired up with righteous indignation, Mia hissed at
him through gritted teeth. "Don't tell me to calm down. You sneak in here,
scare me to death , humiliate
me—"
    "Mia—"
    "I'm not finished!" Her eyes darted to and fro,
seeking another missile. "You-you—" Bastard! "Get out, Derrick."
    "No."
    She narrowed her eyes. He'd already refused her once that
day. No way was she putting up with it again. Tears pricked the backs of her
lids, so she bit the inside of her cheek to hold them back and let fly with her
next weapon.
    He sidestepped the bottle—"That's