Storming down the hallway, Mikaela didn't even knock when she reached the third door on the left. She gripped the cold knob and pushed it in, slamming the door shut behind her.

Josh's head snapped up when she walked in. He was unbuttoning his shirt and had most of the buttons unfastened. His lightly furred chest stood proud, and Mikaela's fury briefly halted by the beauty of that man.

Briefly.

Stiffening her back and throwing her hands on her hips, she glared at him. "What the fuck's your problem?" she yelled.

His hands dropped from his shirt and balled at his sides. She saw his jaw ticking while he glared back, speechless.

Stewing over the fact that he refused to answer, she took two steps toward him while she tried to calm her tone. She could be mad, but she didn't want to just give him the upper hand by screaming a litany of questions. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she asked, barely controlling the volume of her voice.

His hands relaxed, and he chuckled without humor. It almost seemed as if he was laughing at some ironic, unfortunate inside joke. "Yeah," he finally said, returning to his task of unbuttoning his shirt.

Was he dismissing her? Why, that egotistical son of a bitch! "So you come on to me, ignore me, then act possessive? Why? If you're not interested in me--"

"Not interested?" He advanced on her, stopping inches from her. His eyes were green fire, heated from the depths of his soul. But he quickly shut his eyes, shook his head, and cleared his throat. When he opened his eyes again, they were back to that cool, green color, displaying that forced lack of interest.

"Right," she mumbled, turning for the door. Who was she kidding? If he didn't want to fess up to his actions, she couldn't make him, and if he wasn't interested in her, then standing here raving on about him only made her look that much more pathetic. The last time she felt like that was when she'd walked in on Joel and his secretary. Not a feeling she enjoyed.

As she whirled, she noticed his eyes lit on her breasts. Only then did she realize how revealing her pajamas were. The pants clung to her like a second skin, and the camisole top had sheer lace covering threadbare satin at her breasts. Not only were her nipples hard, he could make out the shape and shade of them. Knowing he peeked, whether he wanted to or not, only fed her irritation. He was a man. It was her experience that men looked at a nice pair of tits whenever the opportunity presented itself. It didn't mean anything. She stomped to the door and yanked it open. "Goodnight, asshole," she said as she slammed the door shut.

Once in the hallway, she heard a bloodcurdling roar from his bedroom that made the hair on her neck stand. She'd heard him growl at her when she left after dinner and wondered how he managed to sound like that, but this roar sounded animalistic. No way could a man make that sound. A feeling of foreboding prickled her, so she quickly went back to her room.

As she climbed into bed, she couldn't help but think of Josh. Who was he really? What was his deal? And why was she so attracted to him? She allowed her mind to wander, her imagination getting the best of her at times, until sleep found her.

When she awoke, she was no closer to any answers, so she did the only thing she could think of. She renewed her purpose. Rather than avoid Josh, she would treat him like he was one of the others. Unexplained feelings or not, whatever had happened between the two of them would be forced behind her.