Read Online Catch Her If You Can by Merline Lovelace - Free Book Online
Authors: Merline Lovelace
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didn’t score him any brownie points at the time.
Only after I got to know him did I learn to appreciate the difference between a grown man and an overgrown adolescent. Mitch possesses an inbred sense of duty and a strength of character my ex has yet to develop.’Course, he’s almost ten years older and a century more experienced than Charlie. Maybe there’s hope for Spade yet.
“You look tired,” I observed as Mitch handed me a mug.
“I am.”
The kiss he dropped on my mouth said just the opposite, however. I felt the sizzle all the way down to my bare toes and couldn’t wait to send Charlie on his way. Easier to think than do, I soon learned.
“Your husband’s been telling me about his problems,” Mitch commented, hooking a hip on his bar stool while I propped my elbows on the countertop and cradled my coffee in both hands.
“ Ex -husband.”
I experienced an odd twinge as I stressed the point. Mitch is divorced, too. For almost four years now. Yet on the rare occasions he mentions his former spouse, he generally omits the prefix.
“I told Charlie I might be able to help him.”
“You’ve got a spare fifteen thousand lying around?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mitch works long hours and lives a pretty Spartan existence when not on duty. I’ve been trying to domesticate him. Even got him to spring for a leather sofa a few months back. We needed one big enough for us both to get horizontal. The rest of his place is still pretty bare, though.
“Mitch knows someone in Vegas,” Charlie volunteered. “He says this guy might be able to ease some of the pressure on me.”
I’d lived and worked in Vegas. I knew darn well that cold, hard cash was the only way to ease the kind of pressure he was talking about.
“Right,” I drawled. “And I’ve got this beachfront lot in Florida I’ll sell you cheap.”
Charlie wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. Not a good sign, I knew, but I didn’t say anything more until he finally departed. When the door closed behind him, I turned to Mitch.
“How much did you give him?”
“Just enough to keep his creditors from hammering spikes into his kneecaps until he comes up with the rest.”
I chewed on my lower lip. I didn’t really want a person or persons unknown to hammer a spike through Charlie’s knees. Not anymore, anyway. It just didn’t sit too well having Mitch contribute to the Brenda Boob Reduction Fund. Nor could I guarantee he’d ever see his investment again.
“Aside from acting like a total jerk most of the time, Spade’s not all that bad,” I said, frowning. “But it’s anyone’s guess when—or if—he’ll pay you back.”
“That’s between him and me. Besides . . .”
His mouth curved in a lazy smile. Sliding a hand into the waistband of my sweatpants, he tugged me into the V of his thighs.
“I consider the money well spent. It got rid of him, didn’t it?”
My pulse skipped. Wishing to heck I’d forced myself to wield a razor last night, I hooked a prickly calf around his.
“True.” I searched the tired lines carved into his face. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Grinning, he tugged me closer. “What do you think?”
Whooo, boy! He was most definitely up for it.
So was I. Hunger sparked hot and sweet as I popped the buttons of his uniform shirt and dragged the tails free of his belt. Greedily, I slid my palms over soft cotton and hard muscle. His hands went to my hips, cupped my bottom. We were mouth to mouth and pelvis to pelvis when his cell phone pinged.
Groaning, I tried to distract him with a tongue-sucking kiss. The damned phone kept on pinging.
“Don’t answer it!”
Despite my mutter, I knew I was wasting my breath. That inbred sense of duty I told you about is as much a part of Mitch as his sexy grin and gold-flecked eyes. So I didn’t get too bent out of shape when he reached for the phone clipped to his utility belt.
I expected him to check caller ID and, if the gods were merciful, let the
Only after I got to know him did I learn to appreciate the difference between a grown man and an overgrown adolescent. Mitch possesses an inbred sense of duty and a strength of character my ex has yet to develop.’Course, he’s almost ten years older and a century more experienced than Charlie. Maybe there’s hope for Spade yet.
“You look tired,” I observed as Mitch handed me a mug.
“I am.”
The kiss he dropped on my mouth said just the opposite, however. I felt the sizzle all the way down to my bare toes and couldn’t wait to send Charlie on his way. Easier to think than do, I soon learned.
“Your husband’s been telling me about his problems,” Mitch commented, hooking a hip on his bar stool while I propped my elbows on the countertop and cradled my coffee in both hands.
“ Ex -husband.”
I experienced an odd twinge as I stressed the point. Mitch is divorced, too. For almost four years now. Yet on the rare occasions he mentions his former spouse, he generally omits the prefix.
“I told Charlie I might be able to help him.”
“You’ve got a spare fifteen thousand lying around?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mitch works long hours and lives a pretty Spartan existence when not on duty. I’ve been trying to domesticate him. Even got him to spring for a leather sofa a few months back. We needed one big enough for us both to get horizontal. The rest of his place is still pretty bare, though.
“Mitch knows someone in Vegas,” Charlie volunteered. “He says this guy might be able to ease some of the pressure on me.”
I’d lived and worked in Vegas. I knew darn well that cold, hard cash was the only way to ease the kind of pressure he was talking about.
“Right,” I drawled. “And I’ve got this beachfront lot in Florida I’ll sell you cheap.”
Charlie wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. Not a good sign, I knew, but I didn’t say anything more until he finally departed. When the door closed behind him, I turned to Mitch.
“How much did you give him?”
“Just enough to keep his creditors from hammering spikes into his kneecaps until he comes up with the rest.”
I chewed on my lower lip. I didn’t really want a person or persons unknown to hammer a spike through Charlie’s knees. Not anymore, anyway. It just didn’t sit too well having Mitch contribute to the Brenda Boob Reduction Fund. Nor could I guarantee he’d ever see his investment again.
“Aside from acting like a total jerk most of the time, Spade’s not all that bad,” I said, frowning. “But it’s anyone’s guess when—or if—he’ll pay you back.”
“That’s between him and me. Besides . . .”
His mouth curved in a lazy smile. Sliding a hand into the waistband of my sweatpants, he tugged me into the V of his thighs.
“I consider the money well spent. It got rid of him, didn’t it?”
My pulse skipped. Wishing to heck I’d forced myself to wield a razor last night, I hooked a prickly calf around his.
“True.” I searched the tired lines carved into his face. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Grinning, he tugged me closer. “What do you think?”
Whooo, boy! He was most definitely up for it.
So was I. Hunger sparked hot and sweet as I popped the buttons of his uniform shirt and dragged the tails free of his belt. Greedily, I slid my palms over soft cotton and hard muscle. His hands went to my hips, cupped my bottom. We were mouth to mouth and pelvis to pelvis when his cell phone pinged.
Groaning, I tried to distract him with a tongue-sucking kiss. The damned phone kept on pinging.
“Don’t answer it!”
Despite my mutter, I knew I was wasting my breath. That inbred sense of duty I told you about is as much a part of Mitch as his sexy grin and gold-flecked eyes. So I didn’t get too bent out of shape when he reached for the phone clipped to his utility belt.
I expected him to check caller ID and, if the gods were merciful, let the
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