Pursued. Catherine Mann
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Название: Pursued
Автор: Catherine Mann
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon Silhouette
isbn: 9781472092427
isbn:
The front porch stirred with motion, two dogs leaping to life and bolting down the steps. A shaved retriever and a mutt of indeterminate origin scampered in a dangerous dance in front of her car, forcing her to slow.
At a near-crawl pace, she pulled her shuddering Mustang closer to the deserted yard, past patchy brush, cacti, a crappy lawn chair beside what looked to be about an eight-hundred-dollar grill.
She braked to a stop, engine still humming. Kangaroo rats scampered away from the headlights. “Here we are.”
“Thanks for the ride.” His booted foot slid to the floorboards. “I owe you a new set of shocks and a car wash for this one.”
“I might take you up on that, Morel,” she offered noncommittally. Safely.
He seemed in no hurry to get out of her car now. The man never hurried, period. Even as that trait annoyed her, she couldn’t help but be intrigued by someone so unfettered by life. “How are you going to get back to base?”
He gestured toward the prefabricated metal garage set back from the house. “I have a truck, too.”
“And what about your Harley?”
“You could stay over and give me a ride in the morning.”
She blinked hard. Twice. Then covered with an overly polite smile. “I don’t think so.”
“That no-sex-with-workmates rule of yours again?”
Self-preservation was more like it, if just a simple brush against him could burn her. “Perhaps I’m not interested in going to bed with a drunk who snores.”
His half smile tucked a dimple into one cheek. “I like you, Lockworth.”
Whoa. Like? That was a whole different matter than just sexy leather chaps and lust. “Uh, thanks.”
“Not that you’re particularly likable.”
She scooped the puppy from the drink holder, something soft to ease the sting of echoing old taunts of Josephine the Tattletale Queen. “Charm doesn’t seem to be your strong suit, either.”
A rusty laugh rolled out in a lomcevak tumble. “Exactly what I like about you.”
“I’m not following.”
“You don’t kiss my ass just because once upon a time I flew some pretty missions.”
His answer made sense and confused her all at once. “I respect the work you accomplished.”
“But not who I am now.”
The scent of leather and eucalyptus swirled inside her. She needed to leave. Now. “Who you are doesn’t matter to me. How you work does. And I’ve yet to see any work accomplished to judge.”
Draping his elbow on the back of his seat, he gripped the edge of hers with one hand while plucking the dog from her other. “Yeah, I like your take-no-shit attitude. And I like the fact that you’re straight up with me. Makes me trust you more and that’s a good thing. But honest to God, you need to wash some starch out of your spine.”
She bristled, more Josephine-prickly than that cactus patch by his garage. Who the hell did he think he was? And she couldn’t afford to say squat back.
He dropped the Beanie Baby back in the cup holder. “I know this mission is important to you, and I’m not diminishing what you do. But even with my feet nailed to the ground like they are, I could wade through your paperwork on this test halfway to snoring. Or half-drunk.”
She couldn’t stop her Josephine sniff.
“That’s right, Buttercup. I’m a rude, washed-up test pilot who drinks too much and doesn’t shave enough. And, yeah, I snore, since my eardrums and sinuses blew out on that last flight.” He stopped short, his hard weathered face freezing. “Ah, shit. Forget it. I’m outta here.”
Diego reached for the door handle. Remorse, empathy and something else she didn’t want to examine stirred.
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm.
He could have shaken her off easily. But he stopped, staying in the seat.
“I really didn’t mean to come off all judgmental. I haven’t walked in your shoes so I’ve got no room to—”
Diego shushed her with a pointed look down at her hand on his arm.
Her fingers slid away.
He canted closer, hand returning to the back of her seat, a whisper away from her neck. “I meant it when I said I like your straight talk. You can feel free to tell me to go to hell when I get out of line and it won’t affect my report.”
He grazed one knuckle along the vulnerable curve of her neck, slowly, deliberately, his skin every bit as hot as she’d imagined. “But don’t ever, ever flash that damn little pity look my way again. Because if you do, I guarantee I’ll be kissing it off your face so thoroughly you won’t be able to think about anything except getting naked together. Understand?”
The fire in his skin and eyes dried her mouth until she could only nod.
Silently, he backed away and out of the car. He slammed the door shut, holding on to the open window for one final shot. “And in case you were wondering, I was definitely hitting on you that time. Next move’s yours, Buttercup.”
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