Read Online Coming Undone by Susan Andersen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Andersen
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one early riser to catch you.”
“Big deal. I’ll tell ’em my wife kicked me out. Trust me, honey, if it’s a guy, that’ll do the trick. The man hasn’t been born who doesn’t understand the lack of logic in the female mind.”
She shot him a look that should have dropped him in his tracks, but unfortunately looks really couldn’t kill. “I oughtta kick you again just for drill.”
Reaching behind her, he wrapped his hand around the foot she’d nailed him with and kneaded his fingers along her arch. His forearm was warm against her leg, his touch firm as it dug into just the right muscles, and her fatigue swirled away like water down a drain. But when his thumb brushed the curve of her butt where it rested on her heels, she shifted away.
He shrugged and brought his hand back to scratch his stomach. “You only get one free shot, short stuff, and you’ve already used yours.” Then he gave her a wheedling smile. “You’ve got a nice big room. Why don’t you let me sleep on your couch instead?”
“I don’t have a couch.”
“Your floor, then.”
“Dream on, Hamilton.”
“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” Then his green eyes suddenly went heavy with something other than exhaustion. “You afraid I might make a move on you?”
“What?” Disquieted, edgy, she surged up on her knees. “Of course not!” That truly hadn’t occurred to her, but once the image was planted in her mind, it stuck there like a burr to a saddle blanket.
He moved onto his knees, as well, and he towered over her, the sudden expanse of his hard chest in a soft gray T-shirt her only view. “I think you are,” he said in a low voice, and she jerked her gaze up to lock on his. “I think you’re afraid I might try to kiss you.” He looked her over from her lips to her breasts to her bare legs. “Maybe put my hands on you.”
“That’s crazy! I never—” And she hadn’t, not once since she was a kid who’d learned better than to hang on to unattainable dreams—and even then her fantasies had never traveled any further than an innocent press of lips. But her own gaze glanced off his mouth now, dropped to his hands.
She jumped to her feet. “You’re certifiable! Get out of my way. I’m not listening to this crap.” Pushing past him as he, too, stood up, she fumbled with the key card, unable to get back into her room fast enough.
She thought she felt his fingers brush one of her curls, and when the light finally turned green, she pushed the door wide in her haste to get away from him. But Jared’s hand was right there, splayed against the painted panel to prevent her from closing the door firmly in his face when she whirled back to do precisely that.
“Where’s the fire, Peej?” he said softly. “I merely asked if you were worried about my intentions. I didn’t say you needed to be. I’m a professional. I don’t slap the make to my clients.”
“I’m not your client,” she snapped, then could have kicked herself. But, this had been a game? Humiliated for thinking he had been putting the moves on her—and worse, that she’d responded to them—she thrust her chin up and took a giant step forward to prove to him—to herself—that no cut-rate Romeo could intimidate her. “Still, that’s good to hear. I was beginning to think you’d lost every standard you once had.”
“Not a chance, baby,” he murmured, smiling faintly.
For the briefest instant, her traitorous gaze drifted toward his lips, but she quickly jerked it away. “Good night,” she said flatly.
This time when she stepped back and leaned her weight against the panel, he let her shut the door between them. Face hot, blood burning hotter, she stalked into the bedroom and threw herself facedown on the bed.
It was a long, long time before she finally fell asleep.
P.J. ’S RIGHT , J ARED thought for about the hundredth time eight hours later. You are certifiable. Approaching the cutoff where Highway 160 met up
“Big deal. I’ll tell ’em my wife kicked me out. Trust me, honey, if it’s a guy, that’ll do the trick. The man hasn’t been born who doesn’t understand the lack of logic in the female mind.”
She shot him a look that should have dropped him in his tracks, but unfortunately looks really couldn’t kill. “I oughtta kick you again just for drill.”
Reaching behind her, he wrapped his hand around the foot she’d nailed him with and kneaded his fingers along her arch. His forearm was warm against her leg, his touch firm as it dug into just the right muscles, and her fatigue swirled away like water down a drain. But when his thumb brushed the curve of her butt where it rested on her heels, she shifted away.
He shrugged and brought his hand back to scratch his stomach. “You only get one free shot, short stuff, and you’ve already used yours.” Then he gave her a wheedling smile. “You’ve got a nice big room. Why don’t you let me sleep on your couch instead?”
“I don’t have a couch.”
“Your floor, then.”
“Dream on, Hamilton.”
“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” Then his green eyes suddenly went heavy with something other than exhaustion. “You afraid I might make a move on you?”
“What?” Disquieted, edgy, she surged up on her knees. “Of course not!” That truly hadn’t occurred to her, but once the image was planted in her mind, it stuck there like a burr to a saddle blanket.
He moved onto his knees, as well, and he towered over her, the sudden expanse of his hard chest in a soft gray T-shirt her only view. “I think you are,” he said in a low voice, and she jerked her gaze up to lock on his. “I think you’re afraid I might try to kiss you.” He looked her over from her lips to her breasts to her bare legs. “Maybe put my hands on you.”
“That’s crazy! I never—” And she hadn’t, not once since she was a kid who’d learned better than to hang on to unattainable dreams—and even then her fantasies had never traveled any further than an innocent press of lips. But her own gaze glanced off his mouth now, dropped to his hands.
She jumped to her feet. “You’re certifiable! Get out of my way. I’m not listening to this crap.” Pushing past him as he, too, stood up, she fumbled with the key card, unable to get back into her room fast enough.
She thought she felt his fingers brush one of her curls, and when the light finally turned green, she pushed the door wide in her haste to get away from him. But Jared’s hand was right there, splayed against the painted panel to prevent her from closing the door firmly in his face when she whirled back to do precisely that.
“Where’s the fire, Peej?” he said softly. “I merely asked if you were worried about my intentions. I didn’t say you needed to be. I’m a professional. I don’t slap the make to my clients.”
“I’m not your client,” she snapped, then could have kicked herself. But, this had been a game? Humiliated for thinking he had been putting the moves on her—and worse, that she’d responded to them—she thrust her chin up and took a giant step forward to prove to him—to herself—that no cut-rate Romeo could intimidate her. “Still, that’s good to hear. I was beginning to think you’d lost every standard you once had.”
“Not a chance, baby,” he murmured, smiling faintly.
For the briefest instant, her traitorous gaze drifted toward his lips, but she quickly jerked it away. “Good night,” she said flatly.
This time when she stepped back and leaned her weight against the panel, he let her shut the door between them. Face hot, blood burning hotter, she stalked into the bedroom and threw herself facedown on the bed.
It was a long, long time before she finally fell asleep.
P.J. ’S RIGHT , J ARED thought for about the hundredth time eight hours later. You are certifiable. Approaching the cutoff where Highway 160 met up
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