Read Online Trust No One by Diana Layne - Free Book Online Page A

chocolate pie didn’t get her, the woman truly was heartless.
    Fortunately, she was practically salivating, and before she could ask, he told her, “Yes, I brought enough for you. And something for the kid, too.” He nodded at the baby, hoping his good deed earned him her help. “Paula said she knew what Angel liked.”
    “Good thing you brought enough. Otherwise I’d have to kill you and eat yours.”
    “He– er, heck,” he corrected last minute, conscious of the kid, “you’re the one needs killing, setting me up with Paula.”
    “Talked your ear off, did she?”
    “Did you know her son’s in the last year of vet school?”
    MJ stared at him with a “puh-lease” look on her face.
    “Of course, you would know.”
    “I know every touchdown, homerun, soccer goal or term paper little Johnny’s aced in college since I moved here.”
    Ben flinched. “Surprised you’ve stayed here for as long as you have.”
    MJ shrugged, brushed a lock of hair lovingly from Angelina’s forehead. “It’s a nice change.”
    “I’ll take your word for it.”
    MJ buckled the baby in her high chair.
    “Eat. Eat.”
    “Yeah, if slowpoke there will pull out the food,” MJ said, buckling the safety strap on the chair.
    “Toe poke.” Angelina giggled and banged her hand on the tray.
    Dropping a kiss on her cheek, MJ went to the kitchen. Ben tried not to let the sweet little girl laughter and love-filled scene tug at his heartstrings. Kids—and mommy-type women—equaled bad luck and bad news. At least for him.
    MJ returned from the kitchen with two adult-sized plates with silverware and one small compartmentalized pink plate with a suction cup on the bottom along with a kid friendly pink spoon. Ben passed her the containers Paula had sent for Angelina, noticing how soft MJ’s skin felt when their hands touched.
    MJ seemed not to notice the brief contact. Instead she focused on filling the little plate and cutting up the chicken, carrots and green beans into bite sizes. Angelina ignored the spoon beside her and dug in with her fingers.
    “We’re still learning table manners,” MJ said with a smile. “Like using utensils.”
    “ We are, are we ?” Ben took out another Styrofoam container. “I look forward to watching you eat these mashed potatoes with your fingers. Might make this whole trip worth it.” He grinned.
    “What? Oh. I always seem to talk in plurals now, sorry.”
    While she supervised feeding Angelina, Ben served their plates. “Want gravy on your potatoes?”
    “Definitely. And don’t be skimpy with it.” Angelina tossed her spoon from her high chair to the table. MJ picked it up, wiped it off with a napkin, and offered it again to the toddler.
    Ben smacked a generous dollop of the flour, grease and milk mixture on top of butter-laden potatoes. “Heart attack on a plate,” he said. He passed it to her.
    “But what a way to go.” She took a bite. Her face softened with a dreamy quality, as if she had just been satisfied by good sex. Ben surprised himself with that thought, but had to admit the idea with sex with her was becoming more intriguing. Appealing, actually.
    When Ben recognized the direction of his thoughts, he distracted himself with a bite of steak, admitting it was mouth-watering good—the steak that is. He wouldn’t even think about how MJ might taste, or if her skin would feel as silky to his tongue as his fingers. . . .
    Convincing himself he was merely going through alcohol-withdrawal induced fantasies, Ben jerked his mind back to the reason he was here in this little podunk town that was a “nice change.”
    “About Tasha–”
    “Nope.”
    “Say what?”
    “I have a rule. No unpleasant subjects discussed while eating. You’ll have to wait until we’re finished.”
    He nodded. “Fair enough.”
    “And I bathe Angel.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “It’ll help settle her down.”
    When she put it that way . . . and besides, the little girl was covered with food. “That might