Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII. Kimberly Raye

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ ya know.”

      Pete eyed him. “Bathroom break?” he finally asked.

      “Funnel cake.” Eli swiped at the powdered sugar that clung to the corner of his mustache. “But just so’s you know, I surely ain’t lost my touch. That there cake was served up by a mighty nice-looking female named Justine.” He grinned. “Why, she gave me a few extra shakes of sugar and didn’t even charge me for ‘em.”

      Before Pete could point out that Justine gave everybody extra shakes because she had a nervous condition that made her hands tremble, his two stowaways came sashaying off the bus. Pete spent the next few minutes signing two autographs—left shoulder blade and right bikini line—and posing for some quick pictures before managing to excuse himself and disappear back inside.

      “Are they gone?” he asked when Eli finally climbed back inside the bus and powered the door shut behind him.

      “For now, but I wouldn’t go counting my chickens just yet. One of them twittered or tweedled or some such nonsense and I saw a whole mess of females coming around the semi parked just behind us.” He shook his head. “Which means we’d better get the hell out of here ‘afore somebody else crawls up in here. It’s a helluva long way home.” Eli climbed behind the wheel and radioed security to clear a path.

      A few seconds later, the bus rumbled forward and Pete breathed a sigh of relief.

      Followed by a growl of aggravation when he walked into the bathroom a few minutes later and pulled back the shower curtain. And found yet another woman waiting for him.

      The woman.

      The stiff, conservative blonde with the pretty green eyes.

      As irritated as he was, there was just something about the way she stared up at him that made him smile. Oddly enough, the fatigue slipped away and excitement rippled up his spine. “Determined to get that autograph, are you?”

      She was the one to smile this time. A light sparked in her incredible green eyes and his heart skipped a beat. “You have no idea.”

       3

      “SO WHERE DO YOU WA NT IT?” Pete Gunner’s deep, sexy voice slid into her ears, skimmed along her nerve endings, and for a split second, Wendy forgot all about her job.

      Her brain conjured a quick visual of his fingers working at the buttons of her blouse and his rough palm grazing her breast as he branded her with his touch.

      She stiffened and reached for her briefcase. “Right here.” She pulled out the stack of papers and slapped them into his palm before she did something really stupid.

      Like give in to the sudden heat slip-sliding up and down her spine, then rip off her clothes and press herself up against his hard, hot body.

      Besides, she’d meant no matter what as in chasing him down and hiding out in his bus and cornering him when he had no easy means of escape. Not jumping him.

       Not yet.

      She ignored her crying hormones and steeled herself. “Just sign these and I’ll be out of your hair.”

      He stared at the contract, his gaze drinking in the first page before colliding with hers. Surprise glittered in his bright blue eyes. “You’re from Western America?”

      “Wendy Darlington. Marketing.” She held out her hand to shake, but he just kept staring at her as if she’d grown two heads.

      “Darlington,” he murmured, seeming to turn the name over in his mind. “Wasn’t there a pitcher by the name of Mitch Darlington?”

      “Daddy dearest.”

      “No way.”

      “Way. Now can we—”

      “Say, didn’t he pitch for the Texas Rangers at one time?”

      “And the Cubs and the Red Sox and a handful of others that have nothing to do with why I’m here. You agreed to sign and I’m here to make sure that happens.” She motioned to the documents in his hand. “There’s only one signature line on the last page, but there are several spots that you need to initial in between. Those are all marked.” She pulled out a pen and handed it to him. “Just sign it all and I’ll be out of your way. You can drop me at the next intersection.”

      He seemed to contemplate her words for the next few moments while her heart beat a frantic rhythm. As if she feared he might refuse.

      He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. They had a verbal agreement and that was as good as gold. This was just a formality.

      A formality that would keep her from getting canned.

      “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she rushed on. “No surprises. The money’s all there. The terms are exactly what our lawyer spelled out.”

      “Sounds good. I’ll get right on this.” An easy grin spread across his face. “Just as soon as I get cleaned up first.”

      “You could just sign it now and be done with it.”

      “You wouldn’t want me to sign something I haven’t read, now would you?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Then it’ll have to wait until after I take a shower.”

      The words conjured an image of his hard, rippled, naked body. Water sluiced over him, running in rivulets down his golden skin—

       Um, excuse me. You’re here to work, not fantasize.

      Especially since Pete Gunner wasn’t even close to her fantasy man. She liked calm, mild-mannered, understated men. Like Jim. He was the staff accountant for Western and he made an amazing lasagna. He’d brought it to the last office party and everyone had oohed and ahed. He’d also invited her out a half-dozen times over the past year. Not that she’d accepted. She’d been so worried over the new line and Pete’s role as spokesman that she hadn’t wanted to spare the time.

      That, and Jim was just about the most boring man she’d ever met.

      She squelched the thought as soon as it struck.

      Boring was good. Preferable to the love-’em-and-leave-’em type.

       Then why are you standing here watching rodeo’s biggest womanizer take off his shirt?

      Pete undid the last button of his shirt and reality smacked her. “W-what are you doing?”

      “Taking a shower, remember?” He grinned and the shirt dropped to the floor, revealing a muscular chest sprinkled with silky hair. “Unless you plan on washing my back, I’d get while the getting is good.” He reached for the button on his jeans and she whirled. His laughter followed her out of the bathroom and into the living area of the bus.

      A table stood to her left with a bench on one side and two plush-looking chairs on the other. She slid into one of the overstuffed chairs, plopped the papers down on the marble-topped СКАЧАТЬ