Read Online Hard by Cheryl McIntyre, Dawn Decker - Free Book Online Page B

way he talks so crassly, but because he said he likes me too. Or the expression on his face when he said it, I guess. Open and honest. Sweet and sincere.
    Jensen Payne might just have a soft side. That’s good, maybe it can counterbalance my hardened side.
     
    *
     
    When Jensen said he wanted to share a meal, I thought he meant a quick power snack. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
    I perched on the counter, happily watching him beat two chicken breasts until they were flat and nearly thin as paper while he sautéed vegetables on the stove simultaneously. He mixed more veggies and spices with feta cheese, and rolled it into the chicken. I’ve never seen this done before, but as it now bakes in the oven, its aroma filling the air and smelling incredible, my stomach growls in anticipation.
    Who knew? Not only is he a master in the bedroom, but also the kitchen.
    He sets the small table for two and I slide off the counter, continuing to watch him. His body is so tight, so firm, that every one of his movements cause his muscles to bulge and ripple. It’s fascinating. No, it’s beautiful . I think I kind of get his obsession with looking at pretty things. I could look at him all night.
    “There’s a wine rack in that closet behind you,” he says, breaking the silence. “Would you mind choosing a bottle?”
    I tuck the throw around me and open the door, surveying his selection. I’m good at this, pairing wine with meals. I had to learn quickly at The Pub. Chicken typically goes well with red or white, so I know I can’t go wrong either way. It usually just comes down to preference. Because there are a lot of vegetables with our meal, I finally decide on a medium sweet white.
    I hand it to Jensen and he examines the label quickly before twisting the corkscrew in and popping the plug out. “You know your wine. How long have you worked at The Pub?”
    Since about a week after I fled my old life. Three months, one week, and four days ago .
    “Uh, a few months, I guess.” I press my lips together, waiting impatiently for my drink to settle my quickening pulse.
    “And before that?” he prompts as he fills one glass halfway and offers it to me.
    I take a large gulp before answering. “I wrote an advice column for a teen magazine.”
    His eyes flick to mine, surprised by my admission. “I was unaware they had those in Ohio.”
    I take another long drink.  “California,” I correct.
    His gaze moves over my face deliberately, as if he’s looking for something. I swallow back the rest of my wine.
    “So you’re from California?”
    I run my shaking fingers through my hair, working out the tangles and playing with the ends, keeping my hands busy. This is hovering a line I don’t want to cross. “I’m originally from Maine. Moved to California for college. Stayed for work. Moved out here a few months ago when I decided I needed a change.” Honest, but unrevealing. I suck in a breath and keep going, shifting the conversation away from me. “The photography, you do that for a living?”
    His eyes narrow, not missing the subject change. I grit my teeth, waiting for him to call me on it, but instead, he refills my glass, and takes a seat. “Photography is a hobby, a passion, and an obsession. I’m lucky to be able to make my living doing what I love. I mean, I’m no millionaire, but I do very well for myself.”
    “Who buys them? Like porn sites?”
    He scoffs, obviously offended, but I’m not sure why. I’ve seen his photos. He takes pictures of naked woman, consumed with sexual passion. Pornography.
    “I sell erotic art, not porn.”
    “What’s the difference?” I ask, sipping my drink to keep myself from laughing at his annoyed expression. He must get this question a lot.
    “Intent,” he answers simply.
    I set my glass down, folding my hands under my chin. “Isn’t your intent to make viewers horny?”
    He laughs, shaking his head. He has an amazing smile, and an even better laugh. “If they get hot and