Read Online Resisting Her Rebel Hero by Lucy Ryder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Ryder
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had her pinned. Abruptly inscrutable, his arched brow questioned her sanity.
After a long moment his gaze dropped to her mouth again. “I had to see if you taste as delicious as you look,” he drawled, as though it was perfectly normal to push someone up against a wall and suck the air from their lungs.
Infuriated with the quiver in her belly and the urge to slide back against the wall with him, Cassidy shoved at the hair that had been disturbed by his marauding fingers and glared back at him. “Look,” she snapped, “I’m not some brainless Navy bunny desperate to trade passable kisses with a hot Navy SEAL. I haven’t the time or the inclination and this is certainly not the place.”
His eyes narrowed in challenge and for a second she thought he’d get mad, but finally his mouth slid into a slow, sexy grin. “ Hot?” His eyebrows waggled. “You think I’m hot ?”
And she wanted to slug him.
Deciding to escape before she did or said something she would regret, Cassidy headed for the door on shaky legs. She paused with a cool look over her shoulder, as if she hadn’t just had her tongue in his mouth. Not going to think about that.
“If you feel feverish or the area surrounding your injuries becomes inflamed and swollen,” she said curtly in parting, “phone in for a prescription. Otherwise make an appointment to have those stitches removed in a week.”
CHAPTER FIVE
S AM STOOD BEHIND the solid oak bar and mixed cocktails for a table of women in the corner near the dance floor. It was their second set of drinks for what looked like some kind of ritual girls’ night out. Gifts were piled in the corners of the booth, leading him to surmise it was either someone’s birthday or a bachelorette party.
He just hoped they didn’t get out of hand and start dancing on the tables and shedding their clothes or he’d be forced to throw them out. Some of the male customers tended to get a little upset when he broke up impromptu floor shows, but even in Crescent Lake the sheriff’s department frowned on that kind of behavior. The last time it had happened he’d ended up in a jail cell at the mercy of an evil blonde.
Shifting to ease the pressure on his injured thigh, Sam nodded to a few old acquaintances and poured a cosmopolitan into a martini glass.
He’d never understood how any self-respecting adult could order cocktails called orgasms or pink panthers, let alone drink them. He was a strictly beer and malt kind of guy and the thought of slugging back sickly-sweet concoctions the color of candy floss was enough to make him gag. Of course he’d also been known to toss back the occasional tequila with his buddies—but only as a matter of pride.
An off-duty deputy called out, “Hey, Sam,” as he pushed his way through the crowd, arm slung across the shoulders of a hot babe in tight jeans and even tighter tank top. Sam responded with an eye-waggle in the woman’s direction and Hank grinned, calling out, “She’s got a friend. Interested?”
Sam laughed and shook his head. His sister wasn’t due in till ten, but until then he was in charge. It was only a little after eight and Fahrenheit’s was already packed. He could hardly hear himself think over the sound of music pouring from the jukebox. The band was busy setting up but wasn’t due to start until nine and the kitchen was pushing out huge platters of buffalo wings, fries and chili hot enough to singe the varnish off the bar.
He’d spent the entire week rescuing stray cattle, hauling in joyriders and dodging buckshot from old man Jeevers, who thought the deputies were aliens beamed down from the mother ship. And when he wasn’t playing cop he’d worked the taps behind the bar, listening to Jerry Farnell recount his experiences in Desert Storm.
His brother had talked him into “helping out” at the sheriff’s office, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Ruben wanted some fraternal bonding time so he could casually talk about why Sam was
After a long moment his gaze dropped to her mouth again. “I had to see if you taste as delicious as you look,” he drawled, as though it was perfectly normal to push someone up against a wall and suck the air from their lungs.
Infuriated with the quiver in her belly and the urge to slide back against the wall with him, Cassidy shoved at the hair that had been disturbed by his marauding fingers and glared back at him. “Look,” she snapped, “I’m not some brainless Navy bunny desperate to trade passable kisses with a hot Navy SEAL. I haven’t the time or the inclination and this is certainly not the place.”
His eyes narrowed in challenge and for a second she thought he’d get mad, but finally his mouth slid into a slow, sexy grin. “ Hot?” His eyebrows waggled. “You think I’m hot ?”
And she wanted to slug him.
Deciding to escape before she did or said something she would regret, Cassidy headed for the door on shaky legs. She paused with a cool look over her shoulder, as if she hadn’t just had her tongue in his mouth. Not going to think about that.
“If you feel feverish or the area surrounding your injuries becomes inflamed and swollen,” she said curtly in parting, “phone in for a prescription. Otherwise make an appointment to have those stitches removed in a week.”
CHAPTER FIVE
S AM STOOD BEHIND the solid oak bar and mixed cocktails for a table of women in the corner near the dance floor. It was their second set of drinks for what looked like some kind of ritual girls’ night out. Gifts were piled in the corners of the booth, leading him to surmise it was either someone’s birthday or a bachelorette party.
He just hoped they didn’t get out of hand and start dancing on the tables and shedding their clothes or he’d be forced to throw them out. Some of the male customers tended to get a little upset when he broke up impromptu floor shows, but even in Crescent Lake the sheriff’s department frowned on that kind of behavior. The last time it had happened he’d ended up in a jail cell at the mercy of an evil blonde.
Shifting to ease the pressure on his injured thigh, Sam nodded to a few old acquaintances and poured a cosmopolitan into a martini glass.
He’d never understood how any self-respecting adult could order cocktails called orgasms or pink panthers, let alone drink them. He was a strictly beer and malt kind of guy and the thought of slugging back sickly-sweet concoctions the color of candy floss was enough to make him gag. Of course he’d also been known to toss back the occasional tequila with his buddies—but only as a matter of pride.
An off-duty deputy called out, “Hey, Sam,” as he pushed his way through the crowd, arm slung across the shoulders of a hot babe in tight jeans and even tighter tank top. Sam responded with an eye-waggle in the woman’s direction and Hank grinned, calling out, “She’s got a friend. Interested?”
Sam laughed and shook his head. His sister wasn’t due in till ten, but until then he was in charge. It was only a little after eight and Fahrenheit’s was already packed. He could hardly hear himself think over the sound of music pouring from the jukebox. The band was busy setting up but wasn’t due to start until nine and the kitchen was pushing out huge platters of buffalo wings, fries and chili hot enough to singe the varnish off the bar.
He’d spent the entire week rescuing stray cattle, hauling in joyriders and dodging buckshot from old man Jeevers, who thought the deputies were aliens beamed down from the mother ship. And when he wasn’t playing cop he’d worked the taps behind the bar, listening to Jerry Farnell recount his experiences in Desert Storm.
His brother had talked him into “helping out” at the sheriff’s office, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Ruben wanted some fraternal bonding time so he could casually talk about why Sam was
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