Read Online Selling Scarlett by Ella James, Mae I Design - Free Book Online Page A

down her loose jeans to her suede shoes—some kind of moccasins. She looks cute. Casual. I feel a pleasant tingle, just from being near her.
Finally her eyes flick up to mine, like she's waiting for me to say something. So I do. "What do you need money for?"
Her mouth draws up like she's sucking on a lemon. I like this face on her. The you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself face; it's kind of sexy mistress. To top it off, she arches her eyebrows primly. "That's not really your business, Hunter West."
Maybe not, but I have a pretty fair idea. "Is it the Carlson boy? The governor’s son?"
Her eyes flash, dark blue now. "The son the governor cut off and sent to a shitty state hospital because he's a dickhead who deserves to be ridden out of California on a rail?" Her cheeks flush. "You probably shouldn't ask me about that right now." I watch her delicate eyebrows meet as her sea blue eyes narrow to slits. "What are you even doing here?"
Her eyes wander the expanse of my chest and I know she's taking in the size of me. I saw the Mace on her key chain in the parlor, and I wonder if she's thinking about running in there for it.
I nod toward the back of the house, relaxing my shoulders so maybe I look a little friendlier. "I saw the gate open and wanted to check in on things. I own the property behind you."
Her furrowed brows crease more deeply. "The old retreat?"
I nod. "Bought it off the Anglican church a few years back. Turned it into a quail hunt." She still looks wary, so I give her a little more. "Just being neighborly."
Her face is blank, and I can't tell what she's thinking. I wonder the odds of her having heard about my connection to Sarabelle's disappearance, and decide they're nil.
Next I think about that night on my bed: her head pressed into my pillow, her hair spread out around her face. The memory of it makes me hard, but then I remember how it ended, with Libby seeing me with Priscilla. Impotent rage washes over me, but I'm still hard as a damn diamond. I shift my weight; that makes it worse.
Libby's eyes are on mine, thankfully. "Well I'm okay," she tells me, tucking some hair behind her ear. A tiny pearl gleams from her earlobe, and I have the odd thought that I could buy her something so much bigger.
"I appreciate you stopping in to check on things, and I'm sorry you got an earful of my business." She waves at the kitchen doorway. “You're free to go.”
I don’t want to go. It’s that same strange draw I always feel toward this girl. For half a second, I want to put my arms around her and stroke that silky-looking hair and find out what she smells like. I can still remember how she tastes, but that night, I had Priscilla's noxious perfume in my nose.
I rub the bridge of it now, like maybe that'll make the memory go away.
"Really, I'm good here." She's got her hands on her hips, and I notice she's closer to the parlor door than she was when I looked away. For a fraction of a second, I allow myself to play out a fantasy. Libby runs and I bolt after her, capturing her upper arms and whirling her to face me. I plant my mouth over hers and press her gorgeous body against mine.
I can't contain a hungry smile, and Libby side-steps, now even closer to the parlor.
I arch a brow. "I make you nervous?"
She smiles smugly, and the nervousness I thought I saw looks more like impatience. "I have my black belt in Judo. Do you?"
A grin blossoms on my face, but my lips aren't sure what to do with it. It falls right off my face, and I press my mouth into a more familiar solemn line. I adjust the bill of my ball cap, feeling the weight of the last few months. "You'd be right to be nervous. That's a good thing. You never know whose room you could be wandering into."
"So that was your room.”
More statement than question, but I say, “Who’s asking?”
She looks at me strangely, and I realize I've become too paranoid.
"Sorry." I rub my brow, feeling frustrated and tired. "It's been a long...long week.”
I'm shuffling my feet,