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Authors: Donna Kauffman
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she’d seen him weave with fatigue, she’d snapped out of it, but only to charge in, concern for his sorry hide literally screeching from her mouth.
“I might as well have just up and handed him the key to my soul,” she muttered in disgust. By revealing her continued concern for him, she’d given him the perfect reason to keep gunning for her help. She’d opened a vein yesterday and bled in front of him, spilling everything out. And for what?
Nothing.
She reached up to get a coffee cup out of the cabinet, digging way back for the big mug. She might need a good weapon, she told herself.
When she turned back around, she almost had a heart attack, and only barely managed to place the heavy stoneware mug on the counter instead of letting it crash to the floor.
“I wasn’t aware your soul had a key,” McCullough said, his expression calm, but his eyes glittering with anew awareness that had the hairs on her neck rising right along with her pulse rate.
He was sitting in one of her thickly cushioned rattan breakfast-nook chairs. Actually,
sprawled
better described it. Arrogantly sprawled, she decided as she willed her heart to slow to something under two hundred beats a minute. His legs were stretched out in front of him, the thick aqua towel slung low on his hips, not quite covering the bandage on his thigh. The discolored bruise on his shoulder hardly distracted her from noticing how his big arms were crossed over his now tapeless chest and abs. She scowled at the swirls of hair still very apparent across his oh-so-perfect pecs.
“I’d make a comment about people who eavesdrop,” she said, turning her back to him and picking up the coffeepot. “But then it’s hard to appeal to the conscience of a man who doesn’t have one.”
“You’re getting very good at launching killer salvos, then walking away before assessing the damage,” he replied.
“Obviously they aren’t as killing as I’d hoped.” Having fixed her coffee, she turned her attention to wiping down the counter and putting the coffee container away.
“Truce,” he said. She spun around, but he lifted his hand to stop her retort. “Just a small one that lasts, say, as long as a decent cup of coffee?”
He shouldn’t be capable of sounding so damn reasonable, she thought. He shouldn’t look so damn good wrapped in nothing but one of her towels either, but that was beside the point. Without a word, she turned and pulled down another mug and filled it.
She crossed to the far side of the table and scooted in across to him, then moved back to the counter for hers.
“Thank you, black will be fine,” he said, his tone dry as he picked up the mug and warmed his hands with it.
“Some truce,” she shot back. She leaned against the counter, cradling her mug in her own hands. His mouth actually began to curve in a smile, and Rae panicked. She was having a hard enough time dealing with him as it was. She definitely didn’t need to allow him to add what was certain to be a killer smile to his repertoire.
“I’m going to work in my shop for a couple of hours then I’m going into town.” She was satisfied and more than a bit relieved by the immediate darkening of his expression. “It’s not up for discussion. I have to go. I assume you didn’t come up here alone and that it wasn’t by choice. I’ll watch my back and I won’t give you away. No phone calls, no unnecessary conversations.” She drained her mug swiftly and turned to the sink. Over the running water as she rinsed it out, she added, “That’s all the concessions you’re going to get from me and it’s more than I should have to give. I’ll leave by eight and be back inside of four hours.” That said, she took a breath and faced him. “Do you need help back to—” She broke off on the word
bed
, her gaze automatically dropping to the muscled leg stretched out before her “Your room?” she finished evenly, fixing her gaze on his determined to keep it there or die
“I might as well have just up and handed him the key to my soul,” she muttered in disgust. By revealing her continued concern for him, she’d given him the perfect reason to keep gunning for her help. She’d opened a vein yesterday and bled in front of him, spilling everything out. And for what?
Nothing.
She reached up to get a coffee cup out of the cabinet, digging way back for the big mug. She might need a good weapon, she told herself.
When she turned back around, she almost had a heart attack, and only barely managed to place the heavy stoneware mug on the counter instead of letting it crash to the floor.
“I wasn’t aware your soul had a key,” McCullough said, his expression calm, but his eyes glittering with anew awareness that had the hairs on her neck rising right along with her pulse rate.
He was sitting in one of her thickly cushioned rattan breakfast-nook chairs. Actually,
sprawled
better described it. Arrogantly sprawled, she decided as she willed her heart to slow to something under two hundred beats a minute. His legs were stretched out in front of him, the thick aqua towel slung low on his hips, not quite covering the bandage on his thigh. The discolored bruise on his shoulder hardly distracted her from noticing how his big arms were crossed over his now tapeless chest and abs. She scowled at the swirls of hair still very apparent across his oh-so-perfect pecs.
“I’d make a comment about people who eavesdrop,” she said, turning her back to him and picking up the coffeepot. “But then it’s hard to appeal to the conscience of a man who doesn’t have one.”
“You’re getting very good at launching killer salvos, then walking away before assessing the damage,” he replied.
“Obviously they aren’t as killing as I’d hoped.” Having fixed her coffee, she turned her attention to wiping down the counter and putting the coffee container away.
“Truce,” he said. She spun around, but he lifted his hand to stop her retort. “Just a small one that lasts, say, as long as a decent cup of coffee?”
He shouldn’t be capable of sounding so damn reasonable, she thought. He shouldn’t look so damn good wrapped in nothing but one of her towels either, but that was beside the point. Without a word, she turned and pulled down another mug and filled it.
She crossed to the far side of the table and scooted in across to him, then moved back to the counter for hers.
“Thank you, black will be fine,” he said, his tone dry as he picked up the mug and warmed his hands with it.
“Some truce,” she shot back. She leaned against the counter, cradling her mug in her own hands. His mouth actually began to curve in a smile, and Rae panicked. She was having a hard enough time dealing with him as it was. She definitely didn’t need to allow him to add what was certain to be a killer smile to his repertoire.
“I’m going to work in my shop for a couple of hours then I’m going into town.” She was satisfied and more than a bit relieved by the immediate darkening of his expression. “It’s not up for discussion. I have to go. I assume you didn’t come up here alone and that it wasn’t by choice. I’ll watch my back and I won’t give you away. No phone calls, no unnecessary conversations.” She drained her mug swiftly and turned to the sink. Over the running water as she rinsed it out, she added, “That’s all the concessions you’re going to get from me and it’s more than I should have to give. I’ll leave by eight and be back inside of four hours.” That said, she took a breath and faced him. “Do you need help back to—” She broke off on the word
bed
, her gaze automatically dropping to the muscled leg stretched out before her “Your room?” she finished evenly, fixing her gaze on his determined to keep it there or die
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