Undercover Connection & Double Entendre by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-09-19T19:45:34+00:00

Chapter Three

The phone was ringing. It sounded as if a million sirens were shrieking.

Colleen tugged her pillow over her head and tried to still the sound. In a second the answering machine should pick up. But she didn’t know who would be so merciless as to call her so early on a Saturday morning.

Go away, go away, she willed the sound.

Then she stiffened as memory sent chills racing along her spine. Bret! He had been here, and it was likely that he was still here somewhere. And if the machine answered the phone, he would hear whatever message came over.

She bolted up, marveling at how quickly panic could wake her from such a stupor. But when she blinked the sleep from her eyes and groped for the phone, she encountered flesh instead. His hand was already reaching for the receiver. He had apparently just sat down on the side of the bed. His hair was wet; he was wearing only jeans again, and a towel was slung around his shoulders.

“Will you let me answer my own phone?” Colleen snapped.

He shook off her hand and raised the phone to his ear.

“Bret, it’s for me!”

He smiled pleasantly, his silver eyes alight with amusement. “Your sheet is slipping.”

“What? Oh!”

Color suffused her breasts, throat and cheeks as she realized that she was sitting half naked in bed with the man who had walked out on her. She grasped the sheet and spread furiously, then made another lunge for the phone.

Too late. He was already issuing a low-toned, “Hello?”

And then a frown furrowed his brow. “Who is this? Wait a minute, please. Wait a minute. This is Bret McAllistair, her husband. If you’ll just—”

He broke off, stared at the receiver, then turned slowly to Colleen as he pensively hung up the phone.

“Who was it?” Colleen demanded.

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Damn it, Bret, I told you not to answer my phone.”

He stood up, too distracted to pay much attention to her harangue. “Colleen, the phone is still listed in my name. I checked on that,” he added dryly.

“But—”

“Stop the nagging, Colleen! She’ll call back.”

“She?”

“Yes, it was a woman. By the way, where are my clothes?”

She felt a little dazed by the abrupt change of subject and the tone of his words. “Your clothes?”

“Yes, clothes, you know, the things made out of cotton, wool, linen and whatnot that we use to cover our bodies. It seems my side of the closet has been restocked in silk.”

Colleen sighed and began backing up, the sheet still clutched against her as she watched him warily. “Your stuff didn’t fit me, Bret. The colors were all wrong for my complexion.”

“Witty, Colleen, but I’m not in the mood. Where’s my stuff?”

“Try the Salvation Army.”

“The Salvation Army?” He repeated the words with such shock and hurt and disbelief that she felt a momentary softening.

“Bret...”

“You gave away my navy pea jacket?” Now he was beginning to sound angry.

“You mean the ancient green thing with all the holes?”

“You did!

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