Trick Me, Treat Me. Leslie Kelly
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can I do to help?â she prompted.
âYouâve already been helpful. Filling me in on the guests, letting me know who I might be up against is beneficial.â
Who he might be up againstâ¦a loaded way to put it. He wondered if she noticed the way he suddenly had to shift in his seat at the image of who heâd very much like to be up against.
Her. Against the counter. Against the refrigerator. On the table. Hot and frantic. Then slow and erotic. âDo you mind if I get some water?â he asked, definitely needing to cool down.
She immediately stood.
âI can help myself.â
âItâs no bother.â Her voice shook. So did her legs. She wobbled as she walked. Obviously he wasnât the only one whoâd had a visual image of being âup againstâ someone.
This weekend was shaping up as one that would long live in his memories. All because of the intriguing innkeeper. Certainly not because of his cousinâs party, which seemed to be off to a slow start if everyone else in the house was already asleep.
When she returned with a bottle of springwater, he used the shock of the cold container against his fingertips to regain his mental focus. He saw her cast another curious glance toward his open briefcase. While he didnât fear she was fluent in Russian and able to read the documents on the Glanovsky case, he didnât want her seeing any of the more graphic photos. He picked up the file and slid it beneath everything else. Then he put his badge and fake ID into the briefcase, too. âSorry. Top secret.â
âMore of that, âknowledge is deathâ stuff?â
He heard a slight chuckle in her voice. âYes.â
âOkay. But you still havenât told me what I can do to help. Iâd like to get this situation resolved soon.â A worried expression tugged at her brow. âYou donât suppose thisâ¦arms dealer guy has any explosives here in the house, do you?â
He shrugged. âItâs possible.â
âOh, great. Iâd really rather not wake up tomorrow dead, having been blown up to heaven because some terrorist canât keep his stick of dynamite from shooting off prematurely.â
Instantly understanding the double entendre, he couldnât contain a low laugh. He enjoyed this womanâs quick, naughty wit.
She blushed. So, maybe she hadnât intended to sound so damned provocative. Either way, she was absolutely beguiling.
Who she was, and how she knew his cousin Mick, were things heâd have to find out soon. He hoped like hell she wasnât his playboy cousinâs latest conquest, because he didnât know that even family loyalty would keep him from stealing her away.
Jared had always filled the role of big brother to Mick. They were different, in looks and personality. But thereâd been a bond between them from childhood. Theyâd been more like brothers than cousins, particularly since theyâd each had only sisters.
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