Read Online A Man of His Word by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online

to get lucky. His body was aching for it, too.
    Then, suddenly, he was puckering up to nothing but air. She jerked back, yanking her hand away from his chest so hard that she just about took his shirt with her—but not in the fun way.
    What the hell? She went right past a pretty pink and straight on over to hit-with-a-tomato red, her eyes fastened on the forgotten cake in front of them. Just as much as her hands and her mouth had been telling him “yes” a second before, the rest of her was screaming “no,” loud and clear. The buzzy hard-on he’d been working on slammed right back up into his gut. Gritting his teeth, he tried to get his eyes to focus. It didn’t help. She looked more miserable than a woman he’d been kissing ought to.
    And that cold shoulder she was giving him said nothing but mistake and regret. It left a bad taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the lip-lock. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he offered. It sounded weak, even to his own ears.
    She jumped at the words and was off the stool before he knew what was happening. “I should go.” Her eyes cut back to him. The softness there was disappearing faster than a puddle in August. “Now.”
    No use arguing with that. She’d made up her mind, that much was clear. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
    She didn’t offer any resistance, but she made sure to keep her distance from him as she stomped down the hall, out the front door and into a deepening dusk. It was only when she got to the gate that she pulled up. “Thank you for dinner.” She put both hands behind her back. “Please tell Maria I enjoyed the food.”
    Just the food? Ouch. The woman’s claws were razor sharp. “I’m still coming by your office Monday at nine.” Even though the dusk was settling, he could see the flash of anger in her eyes. But she’d said it herself—he was a man of hisword, and he needed to know more about her brother before he started digging around. “If it’s all right with you.”
    She let the question hang for a long moment without so much as a blink. No wonder Cecil had already gone through three lawyers. A pissed Rosebud Donnelly was an intimidating Rosebud Donnelly. His eyes darted back to her ugly little car, but thankfully he saw no gun propped up against the window or anything.
    â€œOf course,” she finally said, her chin jutting out in a way that said it was anything but okay with her. “You’re just doing your job.”
    Once she was in her car, the rear tires spun out on the gravel before she got enough traction to peel out, but her words hung around. Just doing his job.
    He felt lower than a rattler’s belly in a wagon rut, all because he was just doing his job.
    As he turned to go back into the house, an orange light caught his eyes. Just a small dot of bright color that had no business being about six feet off the ground behind some bushes. As quick as he’d seen it, it was gone. He couldn’t see anything else amiss.
    The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. “In fact,” Thrasher’s voice sneered in his ear, “I doubt you’ll ever see me again.”
    His uncle was having him watched. A deep rage threatened to break free, the same rage he’d felt shortly after Dad had died, when his uncle had showed up and informed Mom that if she didn’t marry him, he’d take the company away from her. Dan had only been sixteen at the time. He hadn’t let Cecil call the shots then—he and Mom had gotten enough stock to keep the board firmly on their side—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Cecil call the shots now.
    Screw it, Dan thought, forcing himself to walk calmly back into the house. No need to let Thrasher know Dan suspected anything. Screw Cecil Armstrong. Screw this whole job.
    Except for the kiss.
    Dan had just one thing he could do. He spent the rest of