Read Online Take Me Home: Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 3 by Candi Wall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Candi Wall
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away. After a long moment, she sighed. “How did I not know?”
“Know what?”
“That his wife was sick?”
Her tone was dark. Hell, he hadn’t meant to make her upset. “I only knew ’cause I was making conversation.”
“Yeah, of course you were.” She turned and walked up the steps to the apartment building. Searching through her purse, she blew out a slow breath. “Where the fuck are my keys?”
“Stop.” Cash grabbed her hands. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?” She shook her purse. “I can’t find my keys. I can’t talk to the drivers because I’m always stuck in the backseat, plying beautiful, spoiled models with praise, or pulling them down off the ledge.”
She was on serious meltdown mode, and he wasn’t sure why. He grabbed her purse and jiggled it. “Slow down. They’re in there.”
“You find them,” she snapped. “And while you’re at it, could you maybe be a bit of an asshole or something.”
The statement and her request stopped him cold. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole when I tell you to find ’em yerself. Gram would still be kickin’ my ass from her grave a hundred years from now if she heard I’d gone through a woman’s purse, even with permission.”
“What?” She looked at him like he’d grown a third eye.
“My gram.” He looked her square in the eye, making sure she understood there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Part of him hoped she’d understand he wasn’t just talking about Gram’s teachings. “She taught me there are ways to treat a lady. Love ’em hard, love ’em right. Hold her hand. Kiss her neck. For no reason, bring flowers. There’s too many for me to share. There was forbidden advice too. One of them was never go through a lady’s purse. If it’s in there for ya, she’ll get it.”
She stared at him with something close to disgust and snatched her bag back. “I don’t think you could be an ass if you wanted to. Even now, when I’m begging you to stop being so fucking nice so I don’t feel like such a cold bitch, you’re spouting off Gram’s gems of morality.”
“Would you like me if I was that guy?” He eased closer, baffled by what she expected. “If I was that man, would you have let me touch you at the shoot? Lick you until you came in the limo? Climbed into a car with me and trusted me to take you home?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Then he understood. She was used to dealing with a certain kind of man. More probable than not, she sought them out. She wanted the one-night I’ll-call-you-in-the-morning man. That way, she could walk away without guilt when he didn’t come through.
After a long moment, she sighed. “Probably not. But at least I’d know how to act.”
Damn, she was an intriguing blend of strength and softness. The fact that she was honest enough to come right out and ask him to be a jerk said so much about her. If she was the hard-ass fashion diva she claimed to be, she would have kicked his ass to the curb and looked for alternate entertainment. She hadn’t, and he felt a bit humbled. “I can be an ass.”
“Yeah?” She finally produced her keys and let them into the hallway. “Prove it.”
“How?” He wasn’t sure where this was leading, but he was willing to see. Her mind worked in mysterious ways.
When she stopped at the elevator, she pressed the up button and turned back to look at him. “You could start by not asking me all these weird sharing questions, spouting off your backwoods-boy charm, and telling me why you’re really coming up to my apartment.”
Well, lasso his ass. She’d just put him in one hell of a predicament. She backed into the elevator with a smirk. The door started to close and he grabbed it, waiting for it to slide open again before he stepped in. Her eyebrows scrunched, and she tipped her head slightly to study him.
“You’re not a bitch.”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Not exactly asshole
“Know what?”
“That his wife was sick?”
Her tone was dark. Hell, he hadn’t meant to make her upset. “I only knew ’cause I was making conversation.”
“Yeah, of course you were.” She turned and walked up the steps to the apartment building. Searching through her purse, she blew out a slow breath. “Where the fuck are my keys?”
“Stop.” Cash grabbed her hands. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?” She shook her purse. “I can’t find my keys. I can’t talk to the drivers because I’m always stuck in the backseat, plying beautiful, spoiled models with praise, or pulling them down off the ledge.”
She was on serious meltdown mode, and he wasn’t sure why. He grabbed her purse and jiggled it. “Slow down. They’re in there.”
“You find them,” she snapped. “And while you’re at it, could you maybe be a bit of an asshole or something.”
The statement and her request stopped him cold. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole when I tell you to find ’em yerself. Gram would still be kickin’ my ass from her grave a hundred years from now if she heard I’d gone through a woman’s purse, even with permission.”
“What?” She looked at him like he’d grown a third eye.
“My gram.” He looked her square in the eye, making sure she understood there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Part of him hoped she’d understand he wasn’t just talking about Gram’s teachings. “She taught me there are ways to treat a lady. Love ’em hard, love ’em right. Hold her hand. Kiss her neck. For no reason, bring flowers. There’s too many for me to share. There was forbidden advice too. One of them was never go through a lady’s purse. If it’s in there for ya, she’ll get it.”
She stared at him with something close to disgust and snatched her bag back. “I don’t think you could be an ass if you wanted to. Even now, when I’m begging you to stop being so fucking nice so I don’t feel like such a cold bitch, you’re spouting off Gram’s gems of morality.”
“Would you like me if I was that guy?” He eased closer, baffled by what she expected. “If I was that man, would you have let me touch you at the shoot? Lick you until you came in the limo? Climbed into a car with me and trusted me to take you home?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Then he understood. She was used to dealing with a certain kind of man. More probable than not, she sought them out. She wanted the one-night I’ll-call-you-in-the-morning man. That way, she could walk away without guilt when he didn’t come through.
After a long moment, she sighed. “Probably not. But at least I’d know how to act.”
Damn, she was an intriguing blend of strength and softness. The fact that she was honest enough to come right out and ask him to be a jerk said so much about her. If she was the hard-ass fashion diva she claimed to be, she would have kicked his ass to the curb and looked for alternate entertainment. She hadn’t, and he felt a bit humbled. “I can be an ass.”
“Yeah?” She finally produced her keys and let them into the hallway. “Prove it.”
“How?” He wasn’t sure where this was leading, but he was willing to see. Her mind worked in mysterious ways.
When she stopped at the elevator, she pressed the up button and turned back to look at him. “You could start by not asking me all these weird sharing questions, spouting off your backwoods-boy charm, and telling me why you’re really coming up to my apartment.”
Well, lasso his ass. She’d just put him in one hell of a predicament. She backed into the elevator with a smirk. The door started to close and he grabbed it, waiting for it to slide open again before he stepped in. Her eyebrows scrunched, and she tipped her head slightly to study him.
“You’re not a bitch.”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Not exactly asshole
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