Read Online Carolina Man by Virginia Kantra - Free Book Online Page B

anybody else. If you didn’t rely on other people, you couldn’t be disappointed.
    She smiled to soften her refusal. “You don’t want to get your fatigues all wet.”
    “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m on my way home.”
    “Oh. Well . . .” She supposed Beaufort
was
on the way from Camp Lejeune to Dare Island. But that didn’t explain why he’d stopped. She didn’t trust impulsive gestures. It wasn’t like they were buddies. Like he was interested in her
that
way. Or any way. Obviously. “Have you heard from Alisha?”
    “Yeah. Got the letter from social services this morning asking to set up a home visit like you said. That’s not why I came, though.”
    “Oh.” Her imagination ran wild.
    “I had some questions about Taylor.” He smiled slightly. “I would have called first, but I figured you wouldn’t mind. After last night.”
    “Of course.” She flushed. This was what happened when you let your barriers down, when you let things become personal. People—men—took advantage. “Naturally I’ll help any way I can.” She glanced at the puddle spreading through the hall. They would have to wade to reach her office.
    “Great.” He unbuttoned his cuffs. Rolled back his sleeves. Uncovered, his forearms were even more impressive, hard with muscle and dusted with fine, dark hair. “Get some towels, would you?”
    “Towels.”
    “To dry out the tank.”
    Kate narrowed her eyes. She did not take orders. On the other hand, it was really nice of him to offer to fix her toilet. And he knew what he was doing. Competence was always attractive.
    Not that she was attracted.
    Exactly.
    He crouched beside the leaking tank, making the muscles of his thighs swell against the confines of his fatigue pants. Lots of muscles.
    She cleared her throat. “Anything else?”
    “Yeah.” He looked up, a glint in his eyes, and her breath stuttered. “A mop would be good.”

Five
     
    L UKE HADN’T FIGURED on spending his first full day stateside playing plumber for a woman he barely knew. But after his abortive mission to the Simpsons’, there was something almost relaxing about getting his hands dirty. Getting something done. Nobody was taking shots at him or sneering or—
Jesus
—crying.
    He shoved away the memory of his daughter’s drowned eyes, shutting it in the closet of Things He Wasn’t Going to Think About, focusing instead on the task at hand. The heightened awareness he’d brought home from Afghanistan made everything clearer, sharper. The pale December sunlight slanting through the front door. The smell of fluffy blue towels, fresh from the dryer. Kate’s curling coppery hair, bright against the soothing colors of the hall. The shape of her really excellent ass as she bent with the mop.
    No panty lines.
    He took a breath and stared back at the bolt in his hand. Yeah, okay, so maybe he
had
dropped by as an excuse to see her. Why not? She was a smart, attractive woman. Conscientious. She’d driven all the way out to the island last night to give him the heads-up on the social worker’s visit. Plus, there was that ass.
    He wasn’t looking to find love at first sight, the way his parents had. But he’d learned to trust his instincts. And his instincts said,
Go for it
.
    Or maybe that was his dick talking.
    Ninety minutes and one trip to the hardware store later, he’d replaced the old washer and gaskets and lifted the tank back onto the bowl. Kate, after mopping the floor and blotting the carpet, had retreated to her office. He could hear her occasionally on the phone, using hundred-dollar words and a don’t-mess-with-me voice, laying down the law to somebody. He grinned. She made a good ally. Too bad he didn’t have her along this morning to deal with Dawn’s folks.
    Now she picked her way toward him over the still-damp carpet, fastidious as a cat walking through wet grass. “Do you want anything?” she asked.
    Like a waitress at a restaurant. He wondered if Kate was on the menu. What she’d