Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,45
else to look forward to.”
“You know what I’m also looking forward to?” He squeezed her hand. “I’d barter one of my brothers to a tribe of Amazon women for a hot cup of coffee.”
Relief and ebbing fight-or-flight response, combined with the prospect of food, made her giddy. “Mmm. Piping hot cocoa sounds heavenly. Maybe we can manage some, and without compromising your brothers’ virtue.”
He chuckled. “Not that they have any virtue to compromise. Or like they’d complain.”
“A definite case of the lascivious pot calling the carnal kettles black.”
“Hey, are you accusing me of being a hound dog?”
“If the flea collar fits…” she teased.
He growled at her, a low sexy rumble deep in his throat. Her bones melted and she nearly dissolved into a puddle at his feet. He tugged her close and gave her a quick love-nip on the earlobe.
Amazing how he could shoot her pulse into the stratosphere with a mere look, the barest touch. The scent of him—warm, lusty male—made her hormones break into a celebratory riot. “Yum. You want Milk-Bones with that coffee, Fido?”
He nuzzled his face into her neck. “I’d rather have you.”
Her celebrating hormones kicked the party up a notch, and she eased back, breaking the contact. Not a good time to let desire run rampant over common sense. “Unfortunately, I’m not on the menu at the moment.” If the man were any more compelling, they’d have to slap a warning on him like the ones on the MRI machines at the hospital. Irresistible magnetic field. Please remove all metal objects before entering the vicinity.
Breathless and distracted, she stared at the tent-jumbled doorway he’d exited. The lure of steaming, fragrant hot chocolate snapped her fuzzy thinking into focus. The only thing she wanted more badly than Con right now was food. “Outdoor Outfitters has tents and camping lanterns. And boy, does Maxwell Moose owe us one after scaring us half to death.” Her empty stomach grumbled. “Do you know how to work a butane lantern? I don’t.”
“You bet. Having a former Boy Scout around comes in handy.”
“Somehow, I have a hard time picturing you as a Boy Scout. I didn’t know they gave merit badges for flippant flirting.” Not to mention naughty double entendres and scorching intensity.
“I’ll have you know I was top-notch.” He winked. “At scouting, not flirting. Didn’t make it to Eagle Scout like Aidan, but I had my strong suits.”
“Starting fires, for instance?”
He held her gaze, his beautiful eyes smoky. “There are fires, and then there are fires.”
Heat shimmered in her bloodstream. “Don’t I know it.”
“Let’s scrounge up some grub, and come back.” He tucked his pack and the blankets under a wooden bench inside Outdoor Outfitter’s doorway. “Stash your stuff here.”
The lure of sustenance drove them to the food court. The first restaurant in the loop was a fast-food outlet and offered raw frozen meat patties, frozen fries and packaged condiments.
Bailey shivered. The mall was growing so cold, if she didn’t get something hot in her stomach, she’d end up as stiff as the white-frosted fries. She considered a foil ketchup packet. “I saw Lucy make tomato soup with ketchup and hot water on TV once, but I don’t want to go that route unless we have no other choice.”
“I’m hungry enough to eat just about anything, but that sounds as bad as Grady’s Can-do Casserole.”
“What is Can-do Casserole? I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Lucky you.” Con grimaced. “When it was Grady’s turn to cook, what the rest of us called Desperation Casserole was his favorite dish. First, he’d dump random canned goods into a baking dish. Then baby bro would sprinkle the concoction with frozen Tater Tots, grated cheese, and cayenne pepper and bake it until he remembered to take it out, or his homework was done. Whichever came first.” He shuddered. “Sometimes we renamed the crud Cajun Blackened Char-Tots.”
“Blech.” Grady’s adventurous cooking didn’t surprise her. Con had said that Grady was forever experimenting as a kid. Taking apart Con’s alarm clock. Setting Con’s bedspread on fire with wacky chemistry experiments. A reserve SWAT officer and part-time paramedic, Grady was the only medicine man in a long line of cops and soldiers, and was jokingly dubbed the black sheep of the family. Grady suffered from an incurable urge to fix everyone and everything. He was always hauling home stray dogs and birds with broken wings.
Con’s mom had doled out age-appropriate household chores from the time her sons were knee-high. She’d told Bailey that no woman would need to look after one