Your Mouth Drives Me Crazy. HelenKay Dimon

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      “Fine. You win.” He held up his hands in surrender because conceding proved to be the easiest choice.

      “Good.”

      “For now.” He jumped to his feet and guided her down the rest of the short hallway to his bedroom. To keep the damage to a minimum, he balanced most of her weight on his arm.

      Not that there was much to her. She probably clocked in at five-six or-seven and a hundred twenty pounds. Slim and small boned despite having some height on her. But at six-two he towered over her. The vantage point gave him a front-row view of the smooth skin at the tops of her breasts. The lawman in him looked away, but the man part snuck a peek or two.

      As they walked through the doorway he tried to see the room through her eyes. Probably best described as practical and sparse. Nothing special or fancy about the mattress and frame on the floor or the oak dresser and nightstand.

      He was a simple man with simple tastes. The room reflected his no-nonsense view of life. Getting tied to material objects went against his personal philosophy. The land, family and hard work mattered. It had taken losing almost all of his family for him to realize that fundamental truth.

      Trade winds blew through the open window, cooling the two-bedroom house and filling the room with the scent of white ginger. Like everywhere else on Kauai, flowers bloomed in colorful disarray right under his window despite his tendency to ignore them. His front lawn consisted mostly of sand. Low maintenance for a man who rarely spent time at home.

      Make that a man who used to rarely spend time at home. Right now he spent all of his time at home or on the beach or over on Oahu visiting his nephew at college.

      Six days of vacation left. Today he’d found a woman. He could hardly wait to see what washed up on shore tomorrow.

      “You could have left me in the bathroom,” she said as she came to a halt in the middle of the room. “It’s not as if I have anywhere to go.”

      He set her down on the edge of the bed and turned to search through his dresser drawer. “A very rational argument.”

      “Then?” She massaged her knee.

      He made a mental note to double check the injury and wrap up her leg later. “No.”

      “Why not?”

      He almost chuckled at the disbelief in her voice. “For starters, I don’t trust you.”

      “You’re not exactly Mr. Sunshine yourself. Working on that bedside manner of yours wouldn’t be a waste of your time.”

      “I’m not a doctor.”

      “So you treat all crime victims this way?”

      He caught the slip. “What crime?”

      The color seeped from her cheeks. “Huh?”

      Now he was getting somewhere. “You. Victim. Crime. Those were all your words.”

      “Well, I…ummm, since I washed up—”

      This time he did smile. Couldn’t help it. She flipped from sassy to flustered in a second. If she balled her fists together any tighter on her lap, she might break a finger or two.

      “Still waiting on a full sentence, Fern.”

      Her toes curled again. This time, she buried the tops in the carpet just under the bed. “My name’s not Fern.”

      “Right.”

      “I’d know if that were my name.”

      He kept his hands low behind his back to hide his surprise from her. If he lifted his palm, she’d be able to see him in the mirror set above the chest of drawers. “Try again on the victim issue.”

      He could actually see her mind working and waited for the next lie. Instead, calm washed over her. She sat up straight, clear-eyed and ready for verbal battle, as if she’d made some internal decision.

      For some reason the change in her demeanor made him nervous as hell.

      She shrugged. “I just figured if I was in the water, I must have been there by nefarious means,” she said.

      “Nefarious?”

      “It means—”

      He held up a palm. “You don’t need to whip out the dictionary. I know what the word means. My point was that you could have been in the water for any number of innocent reasons, like swimming or boating.”

      “Naked?”

      “Maybe you were skinny dipping?”

      “I doubt it.”

      “You immediately assume something bad happened.” So had he. An occupational hazard. Consistent with his life experience, too.

      “I’m a pessimist.” She looked him right in the eye when she said that.

      “Not my Fern.”

      Those clenched hands now held fistsful of his comforter on either side of her legs. “If you call me that one more time, I’ll…”

      “What?”

      “Something.”

      “Good comeback.” He pulled out the handcuffs from behind his back. The metal clanked against the wood.

      “What are those for?”

      He dangled the cuffs in front of her face. “Insurance.”

      “No way. I’m outta here.” She bolted from the bed.

      He was ready for her. He looped one arm around her waist and pulled her back tight against his chest. He could smell his shampoo in her soft hair. His soap on her skin.

      “Let me go!”

      He held her still with one arm. “Can’t.”

      “Of course you can.” She squirmed and pushed against his hand.

      He got his confirmation when her body fit snug against him. He needed a woman. Not this woman. One less temperamental and not water-logged. One night. Sex. Cleared head. Move on.

      “Stop before you hurt yourself,” he said as he blocked a shot to his temple.

      “You mean, before you hurt me.”

      “Never going to happen.” He grabbed both of her forearms, careful not to hurt her, and set her back down on the bed.

      Before she could protest, he slipped one end of the handcuffs over her wrist. The other end snapped against the mattress frame with a click. The move forced her to lean on her left forearm low to the bed. Not the most comfortable position ever, but it would last only a few minutes.

      “What СКАЧАТЬ