Out of Eden. Beth Ciotta

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      “New crowd gathering,” Ziffel muttered, then switched to an authoritative tone. “Move along, people. Nothing to see.”

      She tensed when the ladder creaked under more weight. She felt a couple of soft bounces, then a hard body climbing up behind her. Every nerve in her body pulsed. She told herself it was because she’d had a fright. Not because Jack’s front was plastered to her back.

      Pursuing an intimate relationship would only end in heartache.

      “When did you get so damned stubborn?” Jack said close to her ear.

      No way was she going to admit to a hangover-induced dizzy spell. Aside from all the nerve pulsing, she felt slightly better. Probably because she was focused on the feel and smell of Jack and not the long drop down. She relaxed against him, and next thing she knew she’d been plucked from the ladder. Her knees buckled when her boots hit the sidewalk, but she didn’t crumple due to Jack’s hold on her waist.

      “You can go, Ziffel,” he said. “Drop your shirt at the cleaners and be sure to send Miss McGraw the bill.”

      “Hey,” she complained. But Ziffel was already stalking off and Jack was hauling her inside McGraw’s. She pried at his hands. “Stop manhandling me.”

      He let her go, but backed her up against the wall in between the gumball machine and the cashier counter.

      She didn’t like being bullied. She especially didn’t like the erotic thrill she got when he braced his hands on the wall and fenced her in. Or the heat between her thighs when he leaned close. Or the fluttery feeling in her stomach when his gaze slid over her mouth.

      “Find a new hiding place for your spare key, Tiger.”

      What?

      Then she flashed on the night before. Jack driving her home. Lost purse. Locked door.

      Oops.

      He made eye contact and her stomach flipped. Ice-blue eyes on fire.

      Yikes.

      “Under the doormat? Why don’t you leave the door open and a plate of cookies on the table for the burglars and rapists?”

      His sarcasm grated. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, Chief Reynolds?”

      “Another thing. Hire someone to install motion-detector lighting and think about an alarm system. You live in the fu—” he glanced away and back “—frickin’ middle of nowhere.”

      Kylie scrunched her brow. “Is this a lecture on home security? Is my trailer even in your jurisdiction? I’m pretty sure I’m suppose to call the county police if I need help, which I won’t, since nothing ever happens in the frickin’ middle of nowhere.”

      “You left your purse at Boone’s last night.”

      Did he just skate over her rant? “So?”

      “I assume you keep your drivers license in your wallet.”

      Uh-oh.

      “It’s unlawful to operate a motor vehicle without proof of license.”

      Well, duh. “So lock me up.”

      He quirked a humorless smile. “No.”

      “Then let me go.”

      He didn’t budge. “What’s with the motorcycle?”

      “This conversation is giving me whiplash.”

      “What’s the projected repair time on your car?”

      “A week or so, depending on when the part comes in. Not that it’s any of your business.”

      “Are you aware of the statistics on motorcycle accidents?”

      “What are you? Standing in for my brother?”

      “Someone has to look out for you. You’ve gone a little loopy, hon.”

      “Loopy?”

      Breathe, Kylie, breathe.

      No. Don’t breathe. Blow!

      “Just because I want to redecorate the store? Just because I own a motorcycle? Or is it my flower-power boots? You lived in New York City. Surely you’ve seen more outrageous shoes than these. Stop trying to squash my spirit, Jack Reynolds!”

      Her skin burned with fury…or something…when his gaze dropped to her boots and slowly skimmed up her bare legs, over her funky attire, settling at long last on her mouth. Oh, God. Was he going to kiss her?

      Her brain and body sizzled with dread and hope. What if she felt something this time? What if he reignited her crush, full flame? Then she’d be doomed to be alone forever, because no other man would ever measure up!

      “I wouldn’t dream of squashing your spirit, Tiger. Long as you don’t break the law.” He pushed off the wall, severing the anticipation, the tension.

      Relief and disappointment warred, making Kylie snap. “You’re not the boss of me!”

      Doh! Was it any wonder he still thought of her as Spenser’s kid sister?

      This time his smile was downright cocky. He tugged at the brim of his EPD cap. “Where the law is concerned, yeah, I sort of am.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pointy-ear dog that wasn’t Jack’s peek out from under a chair and follow him outside. Had she been in here the entire time?

      Travis walked in, carrying gallons of paint and a roll of tarp. Had he been out there the entire time? Listening?

      Kylie flushed and smoothed her disheveled hair.

      He flashed a sympathetic look. “I’ll start on the interior. You get the permit.”

      And just like that, she didn’t feel so alone in her quest for adventure.

      CHAPTER NINE

      TRAVIS PULLED INTO HIS driveway and cut the engine. He glanced at his luminous watch—12:05 a.m. He rubbed his hands over his weary face. He was exhausted.

      Mentally.

      Emotionally and physically.

      He sat in the dark, not wanting to go inside. Not wanting to go to sleep. When he slept, he dreamed of another life. His old life. It made him melancholy. It made him angry.

      At least when Mona had been alive he’d had someone to confide in. She had similar dreams. Sometimes they’d lie in the dark and talk about the past. Friends. Family.

      Enemies.

      Enemies were the reason they couldn’t be with friends and family.

      It СКАЧАТЬ