Read Online Mission: Irresistible by Lori Wilde - Free Book Online Page B

to the halfway mark?”
    She squinted at him, incredulous. “Good God, no. Do you?”
    Yes, he did, but Harrison wasn’t about to admit it when she was staring at him like he had just sprouted a second head. He had a momentary flash of insight into Cassie’s driving. He could just see her careening down the highway, talking nonstop on her cell phone, rock music blasting from the stereo speakers, her eyes everywhere but on the road. Anyone that drove around with their empty light flashing had to be an irresponsible driver.
    “Never mind,” he said, taking her elbow and hustling her toward the Volvo. “I’ll drive.”
    “Oooh, Harry.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I never imagined you were the forceful, take-charge type.”
    “Knock off the eyelash batting. It won’t get you anywhere with me.”
    “You think I’m flirting with you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Please, don’t flatter yourself. I flirt with everyone. You’re no more special than the checkout boy at Albertsons.”
    Harrison’s cheeks burned. She did flirt with everyone. “Just don’t do it with me.”
    “Don’t worry, chum. The last thing on earth I’d want is to ‘do it’ with you.”
    Dammit. She’d twisted his words.
    “Listen, since we’re forced to spend time together, could you please keep the sexual innuendos to a minimum?” he said.
    “Aww, whazza matter, Harry? Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
    When and why had she switched from calling him Standish and started addressing him as Harry?
    “Stop calling me Harry,” he growled. “I don’t care for that particular moniker.”
    “Harrison’s too uptight.”
    “I like uptight.”
    “I never would have guessed.”
    “You’re big on sarcasm too.”
    “When it suits me.” She stroked her chin with her thumb and index finger pensively. “Hank, then? You like Hank better?”
    “Hank is a nickname for Henry, not Harrison.”
    “Yeah, but I could call you Hank if I wanted to, right? It’s a free country.” She blithely waved a hand.
    “Don’t call me either Harry or Hank.” He gritted his teeth. “It’s Harrison. Just Harrison.”
    “Okay, Harry’s son.” She shrugged and grinned mischievously. “Whatever you say.”
    With a grunt of displeasure, Harrison thrust a hand in his pocket, plucked out his keys, and opened the passenger door so she could slide in.
I won’t throttle her, I won’t throttle her, I won’t throttle her.
    She wasn’t worth a murder charge. That much was certain. Normally he was slow to anger, but there was something about this woman that rubbed him the wrong way.
    Unfortunately, his testosterone was shouting, “Wrong way, right way, who cares, just as long as she rubs you.”
    He slammed the door after she got in. Briefly, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
    Stay calm, stay cool, stay detached from your feelings.
    The chant soothed him the way chocolate chip cookies soothed a carboholic. He felt his anger lift as he mentally disengaged from the moment. With a cool inner eye, he watched himself walk around to the driver’s side and then ease behind the wheel.
    That was better. No pesky anger to muddle his thinking.
    “Hey, Harry,” Cassie said huskily, her voice a velvet stroke against his ears as he started the engine.
    “It’s Harrison.” He forced himself not to clench his teeth over her use of the unsavory nickname. Clenched teeth indicated irritation, and he wasn’t irritated. He was aloof, far above his base emotions. This flighty woman couldn’t touch him.
    “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really cute when you’re pissed?”
    “I’m not pissed,” Harrison denied, and told himself the sweat pooling under his collar had absolutely nothing to do with her frank teasing.
    “Coulda fooled me,” she said lightly. “Oh, by the way, we have to stop off at my apartment.”
    “Good grief, what for?” Against his better judgment, he glanced over at her.
    She had her stiletto sandals peeled off and her