Free One Touch of Moondust by Sherryl Woods

company,” she retorted dryly. “I might add that my body is covered more adequately than yours.”
    Paul had a horrible feeling that was all tootrue. Fighting embarrassment and desire and a whole new meaning of panic, he freed her from the carpet with swift, trembling fingers, then shoved the bed aside. He noticed that she seemed to be holding her breath, her eyes wide as they met his. A man could get lost in those eyes.
    â€œGet dressed,” he ordered brusquely as he left the room.
    â€œAren’t you going to help me clean up the mess?” The laughing request followed him down the hall, daring him to stay. He wondered how often Gabrielle was tempted to play with fire.
    â€œLater.” Perhaps after he’d taken vows of celibacy.
    He went back to his room, grabbed his clothes and practically ran through the apartment to the bathroom. En route he regarded the tub balefully and promised himself that he would install a shower in every one of the apartments the minute he had the money…even if he could only supply it with cold water. That was all he was likely to use for the next few weeks anyway.
    * * *
    Gabrielle was filled with confusion as she watched Paul storm off. She hadn’t realized at first that he really was furious. Otherwise she would never have teased him after he’d come to her rescue. Why on earth had he gotten so upset? She certainly hadn’t meant to get trapped in her room. And, given time, she probably could have extricated herself. She hadn’t damaged the battered old furniture, for heaven’s sake. And how much could it cost to replace a pane of glass?
    Of course, the swift reversal of his mood from concern to testiness might have had something to do with the highly charged atmosphere between them. Even she had to admit that it was incredibly disconcerting to keep tripping over their physical attraction. She had not been immune to the flying sparks just now. Her own pulse was just beginning to settle back into its normal rhythm.
    Well, there was nothing to be done about that except to ignore it. They simply couldn’t allow another quiet, intimate moment like last night’s to occur. Of course, if this morning was any indication, perhaps they shouldn’t be together in the same room—even in broad daylight. If Paul truly felt that uncomfortable in her presence, then maybe he should consider moving downstairs.
    That decided, she put on her jeans and a soft rose-colored sweater before venturing into the kitchen to make coffee. She heard Paul swearing in the bathroom. When he threw open the door and caught sight of her at the stove, he just glared and stomped on past. Moments later she heard the front door slam.
    â€œI guess he doesn’t want breakfast,” she muttered, searching through the refrigerator for something edible. She poked at a loaf of bread that was definitely past its prime. There was a package of luncheon meat that had dried out and curled on the edges. In fact, the only thing that appeared to have been purchased more recently than the Stone Age was a bottle of catsup. She sighed and settled for the coffee.
    Paul returned before she’d taken the first sip of her coffee. He was carrying the Sunday paper and a bag, which he dropped on the orange crate. “Bagels,” he announced abruptly. “If you want one.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œAny coffee left?”
    â€œOn the stove.”
    â€œThank you. Do you want any more while I’m getting it?”
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    The politeness was beginning to grate on her nerves. She grabbed the front section of the paper and hid behind it. Bad as they were, the headlines were less depressing than the awkward wariness between the two of them.
    Still, when Paul returned, she said politely, “Did you want to see the front section of the paper?”
    â€œNo. I’ll read the sports section first.”
    â€œFine.” When she’d