SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,54
her beautiful eyes on Mad. “Because of this man, I’m here. I’m fine. And he arrested my husband who, when faced with all the evidence the police had collected, confessed.”
“I hope he’s not getting out anytime soon!”
“He won’t,” Ashlynn said, her hand reaching up to cover her heart. “And I owe everything, everything to Maddox.”
“Wow.” Harper was moved by both her sincerity and her beauty. “Isn’t there a saying that if you save someone’s life you own that life?” Ashlynn Moore seemed like a truly elegant and worthy prize for such heroism. Then she felt Mad’s stare. “What?” she said, glancing at him.
He tilted his head, his jaw hard, an are-you-really-doing-this-to-me? expression on his face.
“But of course, uh, I mean, well…” Harper began, and his stare turned even more intense. “I do have, a, uh, prior claim.”
“He saved your life too?” Ashlynn said, velvet-brown eyes wide.
“Exactly. It was a dark and stormy night and, well, to make a long story short, the life he now owns is mine.”
Ashlynn nodded. “I guess I’m not surprised. He truly is a hero.” She glanced at Mad, then back at Harper. “So you two definitely are…”
Another warning wrist-squeeze. “Yes,” Harper said, suppressing a wince. “We two are.”
“That means I should let you get on with your evening then.” She cast a reluctant look at Mad. “You truly are one of the good ones.”
And then she turned, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume lingering behind her.
They both watched her hips sway as she headed for the exit. More than one head turned to follow her.
“Are you sure you don’t want her?” Harper asked. “Because you could totally have her.”
“Are you kidding?” Mad’s hold switched from her wrist to her hand, tangling their fingers. “Obviously she has terrible taste in men. What would that say about me?”
Harper nodded. “I guess you’re right about that.”
Then he pulled her around to face him. “So. You claimed me, Harp. That means you have to take me.”
Her heart began thumping hard against her ribs. “Is this a version of you break it, you buy it?”
“I dare you to try.” There was challenge in his voice, heat in his eyes.
She swallowed, but it didn’t help her suddenly dry mouth. “Try?”
“To break me, Harp. Tonight, I dare you to try to break me.”
The remark was sexy, flirtatious, nonthreatening except in the sense that she could see he was in a bossy frame of mind, which had always left her body sated and her mind mush.
Who wouldn’t want that again?
“I’ve been drinking, Detective. I’ll need you to drive me to your place.”
Anticipation setting fire to the warm arousal in his belly, Mad snuck a look at Harper in the passenger seat as he drove home. “You’re not going to sleep on me, are you?”
“Not yet,” she said, looking completely relaxed. “I’m conserving my energy though.”
“Good,” he said, satisfied, as he pulled into his garage.
In the kitchen, he went about making tea.
“What are you doing?” she asked from across the room, her expression puzzled.
He dangled the tea bag, thinking it obvious. “Would you rather have coffee? Wine?”
She shook her head and was silent until he handed her a mug. It was the cinnamon and orange stuff that his sister liked. Over the steam, Harper eyed him as he returned the little box of bags to the pantry. “I’m so mad at you.”
“What?” He frowned. “Why?”
“I’m trying it out. We never had make-up sex, I don’t think. It’s supposed to be great.”
He grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. So I thought I’d add a little spice to the night’s activities.”
“You think we need a little spice, do you?” He went on the prowl, moving toward her with salacious intent. Then he stopped, struck by a serious thought. “Or maybe you are mad at me,” he said quietly.
Her response was instant. “Of course not.”
“Before, Harp. Before I wasn’t…” How to tell her? How to admit to his failing her six years ago without also admitting to things that were long past doing anything about? Was there a point to discussing those strong feelings he’d held so close when they were now water long gone from under the bridge?
“Before was then,” she said, in an echo of what was going through his own mind. “Now is now.” Setting aside the tea, she glanced around the room. “I’ve never had sex in a kitchen either.”
She’d saved him, again. He began approaching once more, relieved, reprieved, and smiled wolfishly. “Do we need to incorporate the countertop? How about a wooden spoon?”