SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,36
When did you turn sixty-three?”
“Sixty-four. And you promised to need me and feed me at that age, if I recall correctly.”
He said it with a big fat smile, easy as pie, and not like he hadn’t just wounded her in the heart, but the stab there had gone deep anyway, because she had, indeed, said that once. Sung it to him, dancing around his apartment using a cedar shoe tree like a microphone.
Mad Kelly, at twenty-four had owned cedar shoe trees.
She decided to think about shoe trees and not about the dancing girl. No, she’d think about neither. She glanced around the room as she rinsed one of the plates. “What’s that trophy?” she asked.
He followed her gaze. “Charity golf tournament. I came in first place.”
Wide-eyed, she turned fully around, her soapy hands dripping onto the kitchen floor mat. “Golf?”
“A sport. With clubs. A little white ball.”
Shaking her head, she returned to the dishes. “I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. Do you wear knickers and one of those silky shirts?”
“You’re thinking of a horse jockey.”
“Maybe.” She popped a plate in the drainer. “But you still play a sport that takes hours and requires whispering.”
“Only from the announcers.”
“What is that about anyway? And the leg warmers for the clubs? The only thing good about that pastime is the cute little carts.”
The long ensuing silence made her glance back at him. “What?” Her insides lurched at the warm light in his gaze. “What?”
“You have whimsy. I’m realizing I’ve missed whimsy in my life.”
“Whimsy’s hard to come by when you’re pretending to be a hit man.” The knowledge struck her again, that Mad put himself in harm’s way. That harm’s way was his profession.
Bad things could happen to him.
Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes and she returned her focus to the dishes, plunging her hands into the sink to gather up the forks and knives.
“Harp.” Strong arms came around her from behind. “What’s the matter?”
“It was a long day. I found a need for antibiotic ointment.”
His arms tightened on her and his voice hardened. “Those assholes.”
Not those assholes. “I said I had that situation under control—though I will admit to being happy to see you.”
“Then what’s the matter, really?”
She shrugged. “You play golf. It’s unsettling.”
“I play golf.” The smile in his voice was palpable.
She turned in his hold and tried pushing him away with wet hands. “Don’t laugh at me.”
His hands gripped her hips and his smile widened to a grin. “Now you’re cute.”
Resisting stomping her foot was harder than she expected. “Golfing means you’ve…matured.”
Years had passed that she’d never get back.
“You’ve matured too.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m a fan.”
Aaand that was it. This laidback, flirty, smiling Maddox Kelly was impossible to resist.
Harper sucked in a breath. “Well, when you look back on this moment, please recall that you asked for it.”
“Asked for what?” he said, laughing.
On tiptoe, her kiss was her answer.
His arms left her, lifting as if in surprise, then she touched her tongue to his bottom lip and he wrapped them around her again, immediately lifting her against his large, hard, hot body. She twined her damp fingers in his hair and tilted her head, reveling in the kiss as the notes of the next song floated around them.
The voice caught her attention. She lifted her head. “Who is this singing?”
His expression turned bemused and he appeared to listen, his head tilted. “Mel Tormé,” he said after a moment.
She goggled. “Chestnuts? Roasting on the open fire at Christmas? That’s not this song.”
His lips twitched. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
“And the subject is…”
“This,” he muttered, then drew her closer and his mouth slammed on hers. Her thoughts scattered, her blood burned in her veins, her hands clutched at him.
They were alone, adult, free to indulge.
She molded her body to his, and let the kiss blossom, flower, their mouths opening into a fulsome, deep kiss. They exchanged breath, heat, passion.
He slid his lips over her cheek and down her neck. A shiver rolled along her spine and she shut her eyes as the mingled sensations of familiarity and newness rocked her world. This is good, she thought, and let that be the only one allowed in her mind.
Her hands slid beneath his T-shirt and his skin was steaming. Breaking free, he tore off his shirt and she pulled in a rough breath, her belly clenching in anticipation. All that hard muscle. Covered in all that skin.
For a moment she just stared, overwhelmed by a swift kick