Read Online Serial Love: Saints Protection & Investigation by Maryann Jordan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maryann Jordan
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she cocked her head to the side, waiting for his explanation.
Instead of answering, he placed another piece of wood on the stump and within a few minutes he had chopped several more before tossing them onto the woodpile. She watched his body as it moved in perfect harmony with the task. His muscles as they corded with strength and power. What would it be like to have that power over me? His body moving into mine? His—blah, stop!
Schooling her expression, she smiled as he turned back to her. “Thank you…again. It seems as though you have a habit of rescuing me. I’m sorry that I was so…um…unaccommodating.”
He reared his head back in laughter, the muscles in his neck working as the sound reached her ears. Meeting her gaze again, he said, “Unaccommodating? Try downright angry, darlin’.”
Pursing her lips, she agreed, “Okay, fine.” She held out her hand for the axe, which he ignored.
Swinging it up on his shoulder he gave a nod toward the shed. “I’ve got it.”
Refusing to argue anymore, she met his nod and turned to walk up the path. The Paul Bunyan look is good on him , she thought. Reaching the shed, she opened the door while stepping back to allow him entrance.
His eyes were riveted to her perfect ass showcased in the tight jeans. The tank top she was wearing was slightly stained with sweat and dirt, but looked as good as anything she could have had on as far as he was concerned. As she stopped at an old shed, he forced his eyes to go back to her face.
“Anywhere special?” he asked, looking around the orderly space.
She pointed to a hook on the wall and watched as he replaced the axe in its place. Closing the door behind him, she caught his incredulous expression. “What now?”
“You don’t have a lock on that door?”
“Um, I think Gramps did, but I just haven’t thought about it. Why?”
“Woman, you’ve got a shed full of tools that can be used as weapons, a constant changing group of guests that stay here that you don’t know from shit, and you’re wondering why the shed needs to be locked?” he growled.
Angry because she knew he was right but also because he had to point it out to her, she turned to stomp toward the lodge. He followed in her tracks, making a mental note that a lock was the next thing he planned on buying for her.
Bethany stopped stomping, realizing how childish it was when he was right. She should have a lock on the shed. Heaving a huge sigh, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing him right behind her. And caught him staring at her ass. Her hands immediately swiped at her bottom, fearing there was something she sat in. His eyes jumped up to hers, a twinkle in them letting her know he had been staring at her ass because he wanted to. A warm blush rose across her face as she turned back toward the lodge.
Reaching the shaded front porch, she nodded toward one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get some lemonade.” She opened the door then stopped suddenly. “Or would you rather have a beer?”
The crinkles at the corners of his eyes captured her attention as he answered, “Lemonade is fine.” Nodding again, she walked inside. Once clear of the front room, she dashed up the stairs taking them two at a time.
Hurrying into the bathroom, she grabbed a brush and ran it quickly through her thick hair before twisting it up in a knot on top of her head. Wetting a washcloth, she swiped the cool towel over her face before eyeing herself in the mirror. No makeup, no time. Shaking her head at the absurdity of trying to impress a man like Jack, she jerked off her stained shirt and pulled on a clean white tank top.
Bounding down the stairs again, she poured two tall glasses of cold lemonade from the refrigerator before moving back to the porch. Her eyes met his immediately, the electricity crackling between them. Suddenly nervous, she simply reached her hand out with the drink.
His fingers slid across hers as he took the glass from her hand.
Instead of answering, he placed another piece of wood on the stump and within a few minutes he had chopped several more before tossing them onto the woodpile. She watched his body as it moved in perfect harmony with the task. His muscles as they corded with strength and power. What would it be like to have that power over me? His body moving into mine? His—blah, stop!
Schooling her expression, she smiled as he turned back to her. “Thank you…again. It seems as though you have a habit of rescuing me. I’m sorry that I was so…um…unaccommodating.”
He reared his head back in laughter, the muscles in his neck working as the sound reached her ears. Meeting her gaze again, he said, “Unaccommodating? Try downright angry, darlin’.”
Pursing her lips, she agreed, “Okay, fine.” She held out her hand for the axe, which he ignored.
Swinging it up on his shoulder he gave a nod toward the shed. “I’ve got it.”
Refusing to argue anymore, she met his nod and turned to walk up the path. The Paul Bunyan look is good on him , she thought. Reaching the shed, she opened the door while stepping back to allow him entrance.
His eyes were riveted to her perfect ass showcased in the tight jeans. The tank top she was wearing was slightly stained with sweat and dirt, but looked as good as anything she could have had on as far as he was concerned. As she stopped at an old shed, he forced his eyes to go back to her face.
“Anywhere special?” he asked, looking around the orderly space.
She pointed to a hook on the wall and watched as he replaced the axe in its place. Closing the door behind him, she caught his incredulous expression. “What now?”
“You don’t have a lock on that door?”
“Um, I think Gramps did, but I just haven’t thought about it. Why?”
“Woman, you’ve got a shed full of tools that can be used as weapons, a constant changing group of guests that stay here that you don’t know from shit, and you’re wondering why the shed needs to be locked?” he growled.
Angry because she knew he was right but also because he had to point it out to her, she turned to stomp toward the lodge. He followed in her tracks, making a mental note that a lock was the next thing he planned on buying for her.
Bethany stopped stomping, realizing how childish it was when he was right. She should have a lock on the shed. Heaving a huge sigh, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing him right behind her. And caught him staring at her ass. Her hands immediately swiped at her bottom, fearing there was something she sat in. His eyes jumped up to hers, a twinkle in them letting her know he had been staring at her ass because he wanted to. A warm blush rose across her face as she turned back toward the lodge.
Reaching the shaded front porch, she nodded toward one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get some lemonade.” She opened the door then stopped suddenly. “Or would you rather have a beer?”
The crinkles at the corners of his eyes captured her attention as he answered, “Lemonade is fine.” Nodding again, she walked inside. Once clear of the front room, she dashed up the stairs taking them two at a time.
Hurrying into the bathroom, she grabbed a brush and ran it quickly through her thick hair before twisting it up in a knot on top of her head. Wetting a washcloth, she swiped the cool towel over her face before eyeing herself in the mirror. No makeup, no time. Shaking her head at the absurdity of trying to impress a man like Jack, she jerked off her stained shirt and pulled on a clean white tank top.
Bounding down the stairs again, she poured two tall glasses of cold lemonade from the refrigerator before moving back to the porch. Her eyes met his immediately, the electricity crackling between them. Suddenly nervous, she simply reached her hand out with the drink.
His fingers slid across hers as he took the glass from her hand.
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