Read Online Treasure Me by Christine Nolfi - Free Book Online Page B

Mighty Maids have a satellite office in bucolic Liberty, Ohio? Doubtful, which meant Hugh had done the cleaning.
    She spun around and gaped at him.
    Which must have rattled his tender emotions because he blushed. “Who’s Parsnip?” he asked, no doubt to steer her away from making wisecracks about his feminine side. “A friend of yours? Does he run numbers with your other pal, Mr. Potato Head?”
    “It’s an old joke. When I was a kid, a man who dated my mom called me vegetable names.”
    “How endearing.”
    “Not nearly as endearing as your domestic skills. You’re quite the nester.”
    With jerky movements, he set his plate on the table. “The place was filthy. I cleaned up. So what?”
    She cocked her hip against the doorjamb. “You keep a fine house, darling.”
    “Give it a rest, Turnip.”
    Grinning, she ran her fingers across the gleaming counter. “You steal my apartment, take a nap and when you wake up, you… clean. Like a happy housewife from one of those sixties shows on late night cable. I’m touched.”
    The chair made a scraping sound as he pulled it out and sat. “I’m all about order. Everything in its place.”
    “Will you do laundry and leave chocolates on my pillow?”
    “It depends on what I get in return. For starters, tell me why you broke into the restaurant. Were you robbing the place?”
    A direct assault, and there was no way to prepare for incoming. For an excruciating moment her brain turned to mush. Not the best state of affairs for a thief who survived by her wits.
    She sank into a chair. “I was just looking around.”
    “Sure you were.” He studied her with unnerving intensity. “Do you always steal from your employer? There’s not much loot in a restaurant. Maybe they need a bank teller at Liberty Trust.”
    “I never steal from people I like.” Horrified by the outburst, she backpedaled. “I mean, Finney is a little tough and Ethel Lynn is weird. But Delia is nice—they’re all nice.”
    Hugh rubbed his jaw. “So if you didn’t like them you would steal from them?”
    She would, but it wasn’t his business. “I can’t chew and talk at the same time.” She dove it into her omelet. “Shut up and eat.”
    “I knew it. You are a thief.” He dug in with relish. “It must be a hard life. Do you worry about prison?” he asked between mouthfuls. “Waiting until someone hides a file in a pastry and you can escape? I would.”
    Frustrated by Hugh’s powers of deduction, she shrugged out of her army coat. And immediately regretted her decision when he stopped eating. Leaning sideways in his chair, he took in the skimpy waitress uniform while she squirmed. His attention danced from the gold piping embellishing her breasts to the ruffled hem, which revealed no small section of her thighs.
    He pointed at her with his fork. “You’d draw rave reviews in whorehouses across Paris.”
    “Go to hell.”
    “I meant it as a compliment.” He shoved eggs into his mouth, tried to swallow, and choked.
    When he grabbed his throat, Birdie rushed to the sink. She filled a glass with water and thrust it at him. After the long day waiting tables she didn’t need a run to the nearest emergency room. Not unless she could dump Hugh off on the curb and get away with his car. She gave him a few good thumps on the back. Oh, why hadn’t she learned the Heimlich maneuver? Concern for his welfare warred with the lure of grand larceny and she cringed when he pushed the glass away and stomped his foot.
    When he finally sucked in air, she drew back. What if Hugh drove a Mercedes or a Beemer? Maybe she should offer to take him to the hospital.
    Before she decided her position on auto theft, he began mouthing the words stuck in his throat.
    “Fishnet stockings,” he croaked. When she crossed her arms, he had the sense to ditch the bedazzled expression. “I mean it. All you’re missing is a little whore’s netting on your gams.”
    Searching for a hostile retort, she noticed Mr.