The P.I. Who Loved Her. Tori Carrington

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ hope you realize you’re going to be the one to mop up the mess you’re making.”

      Mess? He hadn’t made a mess yet, but give him a couple more seconds, and—

      He blinked, watching as her hands dripped water on the floor.

      “I just spent the morning mopping up the basement after a pipe burst. I don’t much want to clean up the kitchen floor, too.”

      He released her so fast, she nearly toppled to the floor. He remembered the wet hip boots in the mudroom.

      “I hope you turned off the electricity before you went trudging through that water,” he grumbled, trying to get a handle on himself. He was supposed to be trying to convince her to get into her car and head for the road, not entertaining thoughts of getting her between the sheets.

      “What electricity? Old Man Peabody kept the water on, but it’s going to take some money to get the electricity switched back on.”

      Mitch glanced at a one-eyed propane burner on top of the obsolete stove, and a lantern near a cot in the corner. “So that’s why you took your old job back at the diner.”

      She tilted her head and slid her gaze over him suggestively. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or am I going to have to guess?” She tugged on the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling it tight against her breasts in a provocative way, though she was likely preventing the scrap of material from revealing more than was decent. “Or did you just come out to hassle me?”

      “It depends on your definition of hassle,” he said, not trusting the spark of mischief that compelled him to grin. “If you categorize wanting to know what you’re doing as hassling you, then we have a problem.”

      “The only problem I’m having now is getting the stain out of that dress.”

      Mitch stared at the sopping wet material puddled on the chipped tile floor. “That’s just it. Why would you want to get the stain out?” He eyed her. “Unless, of course, you intend to use the dress again.”

      He didn’t miss her amused expression. She turned from him and hoisted the dress up onto the counter.

      He stepped closer until he was nearly flush with her backside. The subtle scent of wild cherries drifted over him, inciting another uncomfortable response in the lower half of his body.

      “Tell me, Liz, why is it there’s a car parked out back that costs more than some houses and you can’t afford to have your electricity turned on?”

      His breath stirred her honey-blond hair. He felt satisfied at her soft sigh.

      He reached around her and touched the satiny material of the wedding dress, purposely skimming his arm against hers. “And why are you trying so hard to wash that stain out?”

      She turned in his arms, staring up at him as if she just now realized how close he was. The tips of her breasts grazed his chest and this time he sighed—or choked, more accurately. A reaction she didn’t miss if the teasing smile on her lips was anything to go by.

      “What’s the matter, Mitch? Are you thinking that this time I didn’t just run out on my groom? That maybe this time I did away with him?”

      He narrowed his eyes. Despite the way she trembled, she was acting too casual, too self-composed. “Well, that would certainly answer a lot of questions.” He caught a lock of her blond hair and twirled the silky strands around his finger. “The first being why you came back to Manchester.”

      A SHIVER swept down Liz’s neck despite the late June sunshine that drenched the kitchen through the window above the sink. The combination of hot sunshine on her back and one hundred percent Mitch McCoy at her front was a lethal one. She pressed her rear against the sharp edge of the counter.

      “I already told you why I came back.”

      “No, Liz,” Mitch shook his head. “You didn’t tell me why. You said what it would take for you to leave. More specifically, that things had to settle down in Boston before you could move on.” His gaze shifted to her mouth and she had to fight not to lick her suddenly dry lips. “What I want to know is what things need to settle down and why.”

      Liz felt incredibly, wickedly, exposed standing like that in front of him. Hardly a thing in her old bedroom upstairs fit. And despite her affected nonchalance when he’d commented on her apparel, the first thing she’d wanted to do when she’d spotted him in the doorway was cover herself from his searing gaze. The problem was the only other things that fit were her wedding dress and—thankfully—her old waitressing uniform.

      She rode out a shiver that began at the tips of her toes and flitted all the way up to her scalp. Who would have thought that after seven years Mitch would still make her want to strip naked and run through the cornfields with him?

      “Don’t worry, Mitch. I’m no longer the damsel in distress you once had to rescue at every turn. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself now.”

      His green eyes darkened. “This isn’t a matter of stealing a candy bar from Obernauer’s, Liz. Or your filling Peabody’s firing-range cans with cement. Answer my question.”

      Her smile was decidedly playful. “Is that why you came all the way out here? Because you think I’m in some sort of trouble?”

      His expression grew teasing as his gaze raked her humming body. “I’m just trying to protect the residents of Manchester, Liz.”

      “From little ol’ me?”

      “Yes, from you. From you and whoever is following on your heels.”

      Following on my heels. So he hadn’t forgotten what she’d said on the dark road last night. Her smile widened.

      “Don’t worry. I’d never put anybody in Manchester in danger.”

      “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? For once, why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

      She wriggled to free herself without touching him. An impossible task with him so near. She shifted to her right and he compensated for the move, leaning in closer. Her highly sensitive nipples brushed against the hard width of his chest a second time and she gasped, arousal heating her insides and a thrill of awareness tingling across every inch of her skin, exposed or otherwise. His hands caressed her arms and she shivered.

      “I…I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she whispered, overly interested in the nearness of his mouth.

      “Do what?”

      “Kiss me.”

      A maddening grin played on his all-too-tempting lips. “Then stop me.”

      He made the inches separating them disappear, pressing the solid muscles of his thighs against her legs, the scrape of rough denim against her tender skin excitingly erotic. His mouth stopped a hairbreadth away from hers, his minty breath fanning her heated cheeks, his eyes inviting her to finish what he had begun. She swallowed hard, incapable of stopping him…incapable of stopping herself. She groaned.

      Oh, how she’d missed the feel of him against her.

      Thrusting СКАЧАТЬ