His Southern Temptation - By Robin Covington Page 0,7

waistband of his jeans.

Curiosity forced the question out of her mouth. “Hey, why are you keeping my gun? You afraid I might still shoot you?”

“Nope, but I might want to shoot myself later,” he huffed out on a laugh that didn’t quite erase the tension in his voice or loosen the rigid set in his shoulders.

Drama queen.

She wasn’t surprised at his reaction, though. Things were always complicated between them. Timing. Teague. Her family. His family. His job and her great escape to the other side of the world had never put them in a place where they could settle it once and for all. They’d had fun together over the years, in and out of bed, but the last time had been different, and it had left a loose end that made her itchy.

Maybe now was the time. Fate. Karma. The Almighty. Whoever. Something had put them here to hash this out and get the hell over whatever was between them.

She was all for that plan.

She could lay Lucky—pun entirely intended—and a few other demons to rest before heading back to Hawaii and her future.

“So, where were you out so late at night? Hot date?”

He chuckled. “No. I was at the Jolly Gent trying to get a stripper to tell me about a missing girl. I’m working a case for Jack Cantrell and getting nowhere. Sarah Morgan has been missing for two weeks and I can’t find a trace of her.”

“Well, that explains the body glitter.” She laughed when he flipped her the bird, a grumpy look twisting his handsome features. “Must be tough having to get all up close and personal with a girl in a G-string.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Did you get what you needed?”

“No. The girls won’t talk to me or Jack.” He glanced over at her as they made their way upstairs, his smile a little self-conscious. “We decided the case needs a woman’s touch.”

“You mean a woman to make nice with the strippers and get them to talk?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that.” She punched him on the arm when he made a face. He didn’t know everything about her, and her secret skills would blow his mind. “I’ve worked at a strip club before. No full frontal, but we did shimmy down to a G-string bikini. I could definitely pass as one of the girls.”

“No way. The Gent is a pit, Bodean Taggert is a scumbag, and I wouldn’t let him in the same zip code with you.”

“I’m just saying I could do it. I could get you the information you need.”

“No. Forget it. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re being a stubborn ass.” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice. He was being unreasonable and overprotective. This job sounded simple enough.

“You always said my ass was one of my better qualities.” Lucky nudged her with his shoulder, his sweeter tone clearly calculated to try to coax her out of any fight they were hurtling toward.

“Whatever.” Taylor took a breath and decided to let it go for now.

They reached the top of the stairs, the landing as big as the downstairs parlor and dimly lit by one solitary lamp on a side table. The house was old—built before the Civil War—and everything was fashioned on a large, gracious scale, and the low lighting gave it a romantic and intimate feel. As a kid, she loved to curl up on one of the comfortable sofas and listen to the endless stream of guests her parents hosted for parties. Occasionally, she would have to take off when a couple would wander up from the party to sneak in a make-out session in one of the secluded alcoves.

“So, I guess we need to discuss our sleeping arrangements,” she said.

She edged into his personal space, amused when he took a step backward. It looked as though her big, bad Marine was a little worried about her intentions. Smart man. She’d proven to herself the past seven years that she controlled her own life and her emotions. Sleeping with Lucky didn’t have to be anything but blowing off a little steam. She wouldn’t be here long enough to risk any of the unnecessary emotional entanglements that marred their last time together.

“I’ll take the guest room.” Avoiding eye contact with her, Lucky shifted the duffel bag toward the front of his body in an obvious attempt to keep some distance between the two of them. She bit back a laugh; pissing him off wouldn’t help her make her case. When he turned toward