Bewitched: In Too Deep. Lori Foster
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he’d led an expensive, well-bred life, he hadn’t so much as sniffed at her admission to owning a saloon, or the fact that for the most part, she was an obvious gutter rat, born and bred on the shadier side of life.
And he didn’t hesitate to call her Charlie.
Most of the regulars at her saloon called her what she told them to, wary of getting on her bad side. They weren’t, however, great examples of masculine humanity, so their concessions counted for very little. She had a feeling Harry, with all his grins and arrogance and stubbornness, was a true hero, even if he’d chosen to deny it.
He watched her from the phone booth while he placed the call, alert to any possible danger. With a smile, Charlie turned away to view their surroundings. They were near a park, but not one she recognized. Of course, she had little time or interest for dawdling in parks, so that wasn’t a surprise.
Seconds later, Harry returned. His wet dress shirt clung to his upper torso, showing a large, smoothly muscled chest and shoulders, and even through his undershirt, she could see a sprinkling of chest hair. The shirt opened at the collar and his strong throat was wet, a couple of droplets of rain rolling down into the opening. Charlie swallowed.
His damp hair stuck to his nape and one brown lock hung over his brow. His light brown eyes, framed by spiked eyelashes, darkened as he watched her inspect his features. Harry leaned back on the seat and the corners of his mouth tipped in a slight smile. “Have I sprouted horns?”
Charlie shook her head. “You’re a real looker.”
One brow lifted as his smile turned into a grin. “Thank you.”
“I bet you hear that a lot.”
“Seldom enough to keep me humble.”
She choked on a laugh. “There’s not a humble bone in your big body, Harry, and I bet women fawn over you all the time.”
He didn’t deny it. He did tilt his head to look at her, then slowly reached out to touch the top button of his coat, where it rested low on her chest. “I don’t suppose you’d want to pass the time by appeasing my curiosity over these mysterious breasts of yours, would you?”
Charlie gaped. She should have been used to his boldness by now, especially since his brain did seem to stay focused on her upper assets—or lack thereof. “You expect me to just flash the coat open for your entertainment?”
He shrugged, shifted to his side to face her. His finger trailed over the deep V at the neck of the coat, tickling her skin, raising her body temperature by several degrees. “I’ll admit I’m vastly interested, and while you’re indulging in more temperate humors, I thought this might be the ideal time. Besides, what else have you got to do right now other than model for my delectation?”
He certainly had a way with words. And his gentle touch and tone, compared to the coarseness she was accustomed to, was a major turn on. But she shook her head. “I’m not putting on a show for you, Harry, so forget it.”
Harry fought his grin. “Ah, well, you do like to vex a man, don’t you?”
Before she could answer, headlights flashed against the windshield of the truck. For a second there, Charlie panicked, thinking somehow Floyd and Ralph had found them. But then Harry leaned forward, gave her a swift kiss, and said, “Our ride is here. Faster than I’d anticipated, but evidently the cabbie was in the area. Come on. Other than seeing your elusive bosom, dry clothing is the most appealing thing on my mind.”
The cabbie, a seasoned veteran, made no comment on her lack of shoes or bedraggled appearance, much to Charlie’s relief. Harry somehow managed to be imperious, despite their circumstances, and the driver gave him due deference.
Harry held her hand all the way to his apartment, which wasn’t all that far, taking a mere fifteen minutes. But it was long enough to make her edgy, to make her ponder several different things, mostly how enticing the thought of having an affair with him seemed.
He paid the cabbie, refusing to let her dig money from her own pocket to pay half. In fact, he seemed insulted by the very idea. Charlie shrugged. She needed her money, and if he wanted to play the gallant, that was fine by her.
Harry led her to the first floor of an exclusive complex, and Charlie wasn’t at all surprised to see, once he’d gotten the door unlocked, that his apartment wasn’t an apartment at all, but rather an expensively decorated, immaculate and beautiful town house. She couldn’t help herself, she felt intimidated.
Then the barking began, startling her half out of her skin.
Harry relocked the door and switched on more lights. A miniature collie and a small, stocky, mixed-breed mutt darted out around a large, beige leather sofa. The collie’s entire body quivered with happiness at the sight of Harry and he laughed as the dog jumped up and down in near berserk joy. The mutt, a little more subdued, ran circles around Harry and howled. Harry immediately knelt to rub the dog’s scruff. He glanced up at Charlie. “Meet Grace and Sooner. Grace has been with me a long time, but Sooner has only been in the family a couple of years.”
She stared at the dogs, who stared back, one sitting on each side of Harry, heads tilted, expressions alert, like sentinels guarding the king from a scourge. She grinned, and the dogs seemed to grin back.
“I can understand the name Grace, since she looks so refined. But Sooner?”
Harry shrugged. “He’d ‘sooner’ be one breed as another.”
“Ah.”
Harry patted the dogs. “She’s entirely acceptable, guys, so you may as well present her with the royal treatment.”
Once he said it, both dogs trotted over to sniff her, lick her hand, bark a few times in a doggy greeting. Then they each gave Harry a quizzical look, as if her presence made no sense at all, and retreated. Grace leaped up to lie on the sofa, resting her head on a black and beige motif throw folded over one end. Sooner went over to flop onto the floor in front of a white stone electric fireplace. He gave a loud groan and closed his eyes.
The town house was very sleek, and as Charlie looked around, she saw marble-topped oak end tables, bare wood floors with thick area rugs, and windows with streamlined blinds rather than curtains. All in all, she thought the room was gorgeous and suited Harry to a T.
She was afraid to move. Her bare feet were muddy, grime from the garage between her white toes. Water still dripped from her hair, her nose, Harry’s coat. She felt like a flea-ridden squirrel turned loose in a palace.
No wonder the dogs thought her curious.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll locate us some dry clothes. Would you like something to drink?”
All the social niceties. Charlie shook her head, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’d really like to call and check in with my sister, if you don’t mind.”
He went to a desk situated in front of a long window that looked out over the backyard. It was partially separated from the living room by a wide arched doorway. Charlie could see oak file cabinets and office equipment. She heard Harry curse.
“What’s wrong?”
“The electricity evidently went out with the storm. My answering machine is dead, meaning I’ve missed any calls that may have come in.”
“Were you expecting an important call?”
“Several, actually.” He walked back to her. “You’ll have to use the phone in my bedroom. The portable is out.”
His bedroom?
Harry crossed his arms over his wet chest and frowned at her. “Surely that look doesn’t mean you’re afraid of me? Not the woman who challenged Floyd and Ralph, the woman who did her best to bait two miscreants. I assure you, you’re safe enough with me.”
“Me, fear you? Ha!” She was more afraid of herself at the moment. She felt like tossing his gorgeous self to the floor and having her way with him. But she would