Here Comes Trouble Page 0,31
see what happened.
Brett hadn’t exactly thought things through much beyond that, but then, he’d sort of thought the direction would more or less establish itself. And he’d work from there.
He should have known that, where Kirby was involved, nothing was going to be simple. Had he admitted as much to himself, perhaps he’d have rightly talked himself out of making any moves whatsoever.
He really did have some important things to consider. And she was definitely clouding that process. It would be convenient to tell himself that this was all about cloud clearing, and using seduction as a means of regaining focus. Except he’d never had any problem focusing before. He was very, very good at that. Hence his current bank balance.
And he’d had his hands on her now…and his mouth. Well, on her neck anyway. Which had proven to be far more lethal than one would suspect. All warm and sweet and soft…with that rabbit punch of a pulse quivering against his lips. Told him a lot. A lot more than she was telling him, anyway.
At the moment, she was stalling. And he was letting her. Because he meant what he said about not forcing her. But…he wasn’t exactly letting her go, either. Was he?
“You come tooling up on this huge Harley, all dressed in leather. But you wear cashmere and keep your hands in better shape than most women I know. And every guy I know. So yes, you’re a bit of a paradox.”
“Well, the leather keeps the bugs from stinging and the dust from choking. Not to mention providing a far more decent barrier to road rash than the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing underneath them. As for the hands…” He paused, and used those hands to slide up her waist, then cup her elbows, and urge her arms up around his neck. “Occupational hazard.”
She frowned a little. But didn’t move her hands from his shoulders when he circled his back around her waist. As foreplay went, it was admittedly not what he’d been picturing…but he wasn’t any less turned on because of it.
“So, what, you’re a hand model? Or all model? I mean, you certainly could be. Would explain the tan, the body, the lack of modesty.”
When he spluttered a laugh at that last part, she instantly blushed.
“I said all of that. Out loud. Right out loud.”
“You did. And I’m flattered. I think. Although I’m far more modest than the amount of clothing I’ve worn the past twenty-four hours would imply. I claim special circumstances. I also claim to not mind it as much as I’d thought I would, had someone told me I’d be spending most of my time half dressed around a woman I’d just met and found intriguing.”
She snorted.
“Did you really just…snort at that? I was sincere.”
“You certainly always sound sincere. I’ll give you that. In fact, that’s another part of the enigma.”
“Meaning…what, exactly?”
“Meaning for a dusty, leathered-up biker dude, you’re actually rather soft spoken and polite.”
“When you’d have expected what, exactly?”
“I don’t know. I guess a fill-in-the-blank cliché. I don’t actually know any bikers.”
“Which clichés would those be?”
“Tall, dark, and Clint Eastwood–like silent. Or brash, cocky, maybe a little crude.”
He smiled a little. He did that a lot around her. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, but you didn’t. I think…I don’t know. Like you said, intriguing.” She paused. “Wait, what did you mean about me intriguing you? What about me could possibly be intriguing?” She lifted a hand. “Wait, that sounded like digging for compliments. I was actually just curious.”
“You’re not what I expected, either.”
“You have certain expectations of your innkeepers?”
He felt her hands tense a little, where they still rested on his shoulders. She wasn’t holding on, much less coming on—more like holding in place. In fact, she seemed so caught up in what they were saying, he wasn’t sure if she realized she’d been toying with the ends of his hair. Normally he’d say that was a direct type of flirtation. She seemed more…distracted. Until that last comment. “Why did you tense up just then?”
She looked him square in the eye. “You’re not a serial killer, right? Because that would be my karma. I don’t even know what I did to earn a snow-less winter, much less a complete jackass of an ex, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything in this life to warrant it ending with me being hacked up into little pieces. So just tell me you’re not in the habit of going from little town to little