Read Online Down for the Count by Christine Bell - Free Book Online Page A

happen.”
    Inexplicably, his harmless words felt as weighty as the pressure in her belly. She tried not to stare at him but failed miserably. His board shorts hung low, clinging to his lean hips. She helplessly followed the trail of hair leading from his navel downward…
    “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you never saw a half-naked man before, squirt.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, and even the childish nickname felt like a caress.
    “I have,” she protested and took another step back. “Plenty of times.” Okay, she might have exaggerated a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “You have to admit, though, you’re bigger than most.”
    “Well, I appreciate that, darlin’. You know exactly what to say to a man, don’t you?” He flicked her nose with the tip of his finger and chuckled when she flushed.
    “I didn’t mean that .” She gestured to his general groin area in a circular motion and that only made him laugh harder. “You’re such a guy sometimes,” she said with a snort of disgust. “I meant, big like tall and…beefy.”
    “I guess that’s better than being doughy or fragile, so I’m going to go out on a limb and take that as a compliment.”
    “You do that.” The sparring between them felt so strange with the addition of this new sexual tension. Like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole or, more likely, into one of the decade’s worth of fantasies she had stored up. She crossed the room, waiting for the bathroom door to close so she could breathe again, but felt the heat of his gaze trailing her.
    “By the way.” His voice had dropped low again, the silky, intimate tone sending her pulse careening. “I like your dress.”
    “Uh, thanks. I g-got it at Target.” Oh, yeah. Very smooth. But still, she couldn’t stop the flow. “My mom hates when I shop there. She says it’s for poor people.”
    Perfection. She must have picked up that tidbit in some trendy women’s magazine. If a super-hot guy compliments you, make sure to bring up your mom. And if you can squeeze in a comment about her elitist views, even better.
    To Galen’s credit, he only smiled.
    “Hurry up and take your shower. I’m starved.”
    .
    Half an hour later they were strolling down Los Rosales Street in search of food. It was a good thing, too, because sharing close quarters with him was getting to be an issue. She must have been crazy to agree to spending the next two weeks with him.
    “That place looks good,” he said, pointing to a terra-cotta building dripping in exotic blooms. The elegant sign above the lanai read Flores , which was fitting. As they approached, a nattily dressed waiter strode by carrying a heaping plate of lobster, orangey-pink and glistening with butter.
    She eyed the tray longingly then gave a regretful shake of her head. “We can’t. My dress is too casual for a place like this, and you’d probably need a jacket or at least pants.”
    “We won’t know unless we try. What’s the worst thing they can do? Say we can’t go in?”
    His nonchalance baffled her. It would be mortifying to get turned away. People would probably stare, and the host would think they were a couple of idiots. “I’ll pass. The bistro across the street is fine.”
    He took her wrist and stopped her on the sidewalk. “I thought this was going to be the era of pushing boundaries for you? Now you won’t even go to the restaurant where you want to eat? What a chicken.”
    Her stomach growled at the mention of poultry and Galen sent her a wicked grin. She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to work up the nerve to go up to the desk, but really, what was the point? They had a lot of time. They could dress appropriately tomorrow and eat there without causing waves. She was all for change, but probably baby steps were better.
    “I’d rather go another night,” she said primly.
    Was it her imagination, or did he look slightly disappointed in her? She refused to explore why the thought bothered her