Deadly Past. Kris Rafferty

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СКАЧАТЬ shirtsleeves strained as he adjusted his arms, folding them more firmly over his chest, making his biceps pop. His thigh muscles stretched the fabric of his jeans also, and his waistband rode low on his hips, revealing a strip of muscled lower abdomen, that tasty bit of belly that separated the “six-pack” from “the package.” Cynthia loved that strip.

      Charlie was large, mere inches from being “too muscular,” though she’d yet to hear a woman complain. No, women didn’t complain about Charlie, but they talked. Lots of talk. If Cynthia had to hear one more woman at the precinct swoon over the sexy Boston Police Department forensic pathologist, Cynthia was going to spit, because she knew any one of them had more of a shot with Charlie than she did.

      “I called you?” When Cynthia found her cell in her car, it had been predictably dead.

      “Last night.” He stepped close, his boots between her shoes, trapping her on the couch, forcing her knees to widen or risk touching his legs with her inner thighs. A glance told her he was examining her for damage, noting every tear in her suit, every smudge on her face. “What’s with the blood?” He pulled her head forward and none too gently examined her laceration.

      “Hey!” Cynthia slapped at his hands, but he easily maintained control of her head, poking at her scalp.

      “Stop it. Let me see,” he said. She felt him pick aside her blood-matted hair. “It’s not bleeding anymore, but you still might need a stitch or two to help it heal correctly.” He palpated the rest of her scalp, then drew his warm fingers down her neck and checked her pulse with one hand as his other moved to her shoulder, stopping her from squirming. His touch felt like a caress, and his nearness made her feel all weak inside, and vulnerable. “You hurt anywhere else?” He lifted her hands, his touch gentle, almost reverent, as he studied them. She leaned back in the couch, needing to put distance between them. He was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

      “What are you doing?” she said, loving how his strong hands enveloped hers.

      “You look like you had one hell of a brawl last night, but I see no knuckle abrasions or bruising, so what happened?”

      She had no idea. Not fully, anyway.

      Cynthia pulled her hands from his strong grip. “I…I’m fine.”

      “You’re clearly not.” He walked away, leaving the room, and it felt like a reprieve. From Charlie’s alarmed expression, she feared her head laceration was worse than she’d supposed. He returned moments later, a bag of frozen peas in hand. When he pressed it to her head, her pain spiked, taking her breath away. She gasped, batting at him.

      “Hold still.” He took her hand and pressed it to the frozen bag before releasing it. “Keep that in place. The cut can’t be stitched if the wound is too swollen.” Head bent, she stared at his boots, focusing on the sensation of the cold bag against her overheated hand.

      “Stop treating me like a child.” The bag slipped from her grip, forcing her to use both hands to adjust it back in place. “I’m all grown.” He sat next to her, doing the whole “manspread” thing, and the heat of his thigh pressed against hers made it hard to concentrate, especially since she suspected her stringy, matted hair, and hunched back from holding the bag to her wound, made her look like a crone.

      “I’ve noticed.” His smile confused the hell out of her, until he raised his brows suggestively. Her heart curdled with embarrassment. Leave it to Charlie to think now was a good time to talk about the-kiss-that-shall-not-be-mentioned.

      “Listen, Romeo.” She swatted his thigh and scooted away from him on the couch. Cynthia didn’t do humiliation well, so she defaulted to anger. “Yes, I kissed you, it was a disaster—”

      “A disaster?” His smile was kind, and playful. She would have preferred a swift kick.

      “I’ve kissed loads of guys, and sometimes it’s good, and sometimes, yes, it’s a disaster, but not one of them acted—months later—as if the sky was falling.”

      His cheek kicked up. “It sure felt like the sky was falling. Or maybe that was the earth moving.”

      “Stop.” They both knew he’d rejected her. Why was he acting as if he hadn’t? “I don’t appreciate you embarrassing me.”

      “I’m not.” His eyes widened as he shook his head.

      “Yes, you are! Can you just leave it alone? The kiss was a mistake. I didn’t like it either—”

      “You didn’t like it?” His brows lifted again, skeptically this time.

      “No, I didn’t, and please do us both a favor and pretend it never happened. I had too much tequila. We both know what happens when I drink tequila.”

      “We’ve drunk plenty of tequila and you’ve never stuck your tongue down my throat before.”

      “But—” He had her there, and as she struggled to piece together a suitable comeback, she found herself studying his features. He was enjoying himself, and here she was injured, bleeding, for heaven’s sake, and he was torturing her.

      “Yes?” he prompted, giving her his complete attention.

      “As I said, I didn’t like it. So…just stop, will you?”

      He sighed, and then finally averted his intense stare, only to give her the side eye. “One disastrous kiss shouldn’t ruin a friendship.”

      The very idea was ludicrous on both counts. “I never said that!”

      “We kiss. You think it’s a disaster, and then you avoid me like the plague. If I were a better kisser, would you still have cut me and my parents off?”

      “I didn’t.” A bald-faced lie. She did. She really did.

      “And I’ll have you know, plenty of women think I’m a good kisser.”

      Plenty? She didn’t want to think about it. Struggling to say the right thing and keep her pride, she floundered. “I’m sure you’re a good kisser with…well, with someone else. Or…I don’t know.” Who was she kidding? Their kiss had been fabulous, and try as she might, she couldn’t get it out of her head. “It’s just—” His eyes narrowed and Cynthia gave up, groaning as she leaned her head back on the couch, squeezing her eyes shut.

      “What? Talk to me.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

      She’d kissed him. Took a chance, and now it was time to suffer the consequences. She’d earned this comeuppance, and it was only right that she take it like a…well, a woman.

      “Go ahead. Have at it,” she said, allowing her head to loll to the side so she was forced to see the male arrogance on his face as he declared his superiority. For Charlie didn’t want Cynthia as she wanted him, and that put her at a disadvantage. They both knew it. “Say what you will.” Only she didn’t see male arrogance radiating off him. She saw kindness.

      “Okay.” Charlie tugged her to his side, and when she was comfortably enfolded in his embrace, he gave her a brotherly squeeze. “I’ve been worried since ten last night, after you called, and I’ve been checking police scanners ever since, fearing they’d find your body on the side of the road.”

      Guilt, СКАЧАТЬ