Read Online Kiss an Angel by Susan Elizabeth Phillips - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Ads: Link
devil would be fully dressed and shaved at this ungodly hour. She bared her teeth at him. "I'm not a morning person. Go away and don't ever touch me again."
His eyes ran over her in a leisurely fashion, making her aware of the fact that she had nothing on beneath the sheet but his old, worn T-shirt and a very small pair of panties.
"We have nearly a three-hour jump ahead of us, and we're pulling out in ten minutes. Throw some clothes on and make yourself useful." He moved away from her to the sink.
She squinted at the gray light coming in through the small, dirty windows. "It's the middle of the night."
"It's almost six." He poured a mug of coffee, and she waited for him to bring it to her. Instead, he tilted it to his own lips.
She lay back on the couch. "I didn't go to sleep until three. I'll stay in here while you drive."
"It's against the law." He set down his coffee, then bent over to snatch up some of her clothes from the floor. He eyed them critically. "Don't you have any jeans?"
"Of course I have jeans."
"Then put them on."
She regarded him smugly. "They're back home in my father's guest room."
"Of course they are." He shoved the clothes he'd collected at her. "Get dressed."
She wanted to say something unforgivably rude, but she was fairly certain he'd manhandle her if she did, so she reluctantly stumbled into the bathroom. Ten minutes later she emerged, ridiculously dressed in turquoise silk evening trousers and a cropped navy cotton top printed with bunches of bright red cherries. As she opened her mouth to protest his choice of clothes, she noted that he was standing in front of an open kitchen cupboard, looking both angry and very dangerous.
Her gaze dropped to the coiled black whip dangling from his fist, and her heart started to pound. She didn't know what she'd done, but she knew she was in trouble. This was it. Showdown at the Cossack Corral.
"Did you eat my Twinkies?"
She gulped. Keeping her eyes glued to the whip, she said, "Exactly what Twinkies are we talking about?"
"The Twinkies in the cupboard over the sink. The only Twinkies in the trailer."
His fingers convulsed around the coils of leather.
Oh, Lord, she thought. Flayed to death for a Twinkle.
"Well?"
"It, uh— It won't happen again, I promise you. But they didn't have any special marking on them, so there was no way I could tell they were yours." Her eyes remained riveted on the whip. "And normally I wouldn't have eaten them— I never eat junk food-—but I was hungry last night, and, well, when you think about it, you'll have to admit I did you a favor because they're clogging my arteries now instead of yours."
His voice was quiet. Too quiet. In her mind she heard the howl of a rampaging Cossack baying at a Russian moon. "Don't touch my Twinkies. Ever. If you want Twinkies, buy your own."
She bit her bottom lip. "Twinkies aren't really a very nutritious breakfast."
"Stop it!"
She took a quick backward step, her gaze flying up to meet his. "Stop what?"
He lifted the whip, thrusting it toward her. "Stop looking at this like I'm getting ready to strip the skin off your backside, for God's sake. I had to put leather dressing on it, and I was just putting it away."
She released one long breath. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that."
"If I decide to whip you, it won't be over a Twinkie."
He was doing it to her again. "Stop threatening me right this minute, or you're going to regret it."
"What are you going to do, angel face? Stab me with your eyebrow pencil?" He regarded her with some amusement, then walked over to the bed, where he pulled out the wooden case beneath it and laid the whip inside.
She drew herself up to her full five feet, four inches and glared at him dead on.
"I'll have you know, Chuck Norris himself gave me pointers in karate."
Unfortunately, it had been ten years ago, and she
didn't remember a thing, but that was neither here nor there.
"You don't say."
"Furthermore, Arnold Schwarzenegger
His eyes ran over her in a leisurely fashion, making her aware of the fact that she had nothing on beneath the sheet but his old, worn T-shirt and a very small pair of panties.
"We have nearly a three-hour jump ahead of us, and we're pulling out in ten minutes. Throw some clothes on and make yourself useful." He moved away from her to the sink.
She squinted at the gray light coming in through the small, dirty windows. "It's the middle of the night."
"It's almost six." He poured a mug of coffee, and she waited for him to bring it to her. Instead, he tilted it to his own lips.
She lay back on the couch. "I didn't go to sleep until three. I'll stay in here while you drive."
"It's against the law." He set down his coffee, then bent over to snatch up some of her clothes from the floor. He eyed them critically. "Don't you have any jeans?"
"Of course I have jeans."
"Then put them on."
She regarded him smugly. "They're back home in my father's guest room."
"Of course they are." He shoved the clothes he'd collected at her. "Get dressed."
She wanted to say something unforgivably rude, but she was fairly certain he'd manhandle her if she did, so she reluctantly stumbled into the bathroom. Ten minutes later she emerged, ridiculously dressed in turquoise silk evening trousers and a cropped navy cotton top printed with bunches of bright red cherries. As she opened her mouth to protest his choice of clothes, she noted that he was standing in front of an open kitchen cupboard, looking both angry and very dangerous.
Her gaze dropped to the coiled black whip dangling from his fist, and her heart started to pound. She didn't know what she'd done, but she knew she was in trouble. This was it. Showdown at the Cossack Corral.
"Did you eat my Twinkies?"
She gulped. Keeping her eyes glued to the whip, she said, "Exactly what Twinkies are we talking about?"
"The Twinkies in the cupboard over the sink. The only Twinkies in the trailer."
His fingers convulsed around the coils of leather.
Oh, Lord, she thought. Flayed to death for a Twinkle.
"Well?"
"It, uh— It won't happen again, I promise you. But they didn't have any special marking on them, so there was no way I could tell they were yours." Her eyes remained riveted on the whip. "And normally I wouldn't have eaten them— I never eat junk food-—but I was hungry last night, and, well, when you think about it, you'll have to admit I did you a favor because they're clogging my arteries now instead of yours."
His voice was quiet. Too quiet. In her mind she heard the howl of a rampaging Cossack baying at a Russian moon. "Don't touch my Twinkies. Ever. If you want Twinkies, buy your own."
She bit her bottom lip. "Twinkies aren't really a very nutritious breakfast."
"Stop it!"
She took a quick backward step, her gaze flying up to meet his. "Stop what?"
He lifted the whip, thrusting it toward her. "Stop looking at this like I'm getting ready to strip the skin off your backside, for God's sake. I had to put leather dressing on it, and I was just putting it away."
She released one long breath. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that."
"If I decide to whip you, it won't be over a Twinkie."
He was doing it to her again. "Stop threatening me right this minute, or you're going to regret it."
"What are you going to do, angel face? Stab me with your eyebrow pencil?" He regarded her with some amusement, then walked over to the bed, where he pulled out the wooden case beneath it and laid the whip inside.
She drew herself up to her full five feet, four inches and glared at him dead on.
"I'll have you know, Chuck Norris himself gave me pointers in karate."
Unfortunately, it had been ten years ago, and she
didn't remember a thing, but that was neither here nor there.
"You don't say."
"Furthermore, Arnold Schwarzenegger
Similar Books
