Janet Evanovich - Hero at Large

He drew the tip of his finger across her lower lip. “This shadow that tells me your lips are parted, waiting to be kissed.” He closed his eyes, touched his mouth to hers, and he deepened the kiss. When she responded, he drew away to continue the seduction.

“And this shadow at your pulse point,” he murmured, his lips across her neck.

She closed her eyes and moaned softly, succumbing to the pleasure that ripped through her body at his every touch, wanting to feel him against her. Again, Chris was treated to a searing flash of foresight, a reaffirming of what she’d sensed in the hospital: that Ken would be a careful, sensitive lover; that he would allow their desire to build until it was unbearable; and that when his passion was finally unleashed, it would be all-encompassing, devastatingly intense, and like none she had ever known.

His mouth found hers with startling urgency. Chris leaned into him. Her breasts pressed against his muscled chest. She kissed him without reserve.

“I need you.” He kissed her again, long and deep. “I need you to love me.” He swung around to lift her in his arms, forgetting the day-old cast. C-l-a-n-n-n-g! The plaster cast smashed against an empty copper fruit bowl sitting innocently on the counter. The bowl sailed through space and clattered onto the floor. Arrrrang arrrrang arrrrang! The bowl whirled to a stop.

“Oh my God!” Chris choked.

“What the hell was that?”

Chris choked back laughter and bent to retrieve the bowl. “It was a copper bowl.”

Lights flashed on upstairs. A door was thrown open. “What’s going on down there?” Edna yelled.

They looked at each other like two children caught pilfering the cookie jar.

Ken rested his forehead against a cabinet door. “I think I might cry.”

“I think I might buy more fruit bowls.”

“Saved by the bell, huh?”

Chris looked at him in the moonlight. His face was still tinged with the strain of unsated desire. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she explained in a voice that was shaky with emotion. “I couldn’t sleep, and I was making myself a cup of cocoa.”

“I guessed. I could smell the cocoa as soon as I opened the front door.” He took the fruit bowl from her and set it back on the counter. “And I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he told her with a menacing grin aimed at the now-silent bowl.

“Yeah,” Chris breathed. “I believe that.”

Aunt Edna’s voice rattled down the stairs. “Chris? Is that you making that racket?”

“Yes, Aunt Edna. I was making cocoa, and I accidentally knocked the fruit bowl off the counter.”

“Land sakes,” she grumbled, “scared the daylights out of me.”

“Why don’t you come down and have some cocoa with me?”

Ken shook his finger at her. “Shame on you. That’s so cowardly.”

“And so wise.”

“A cup of cocoa,” Edna repeated happily. “Don’t that sound nice! I’ll go get my robe.”

Ken reluctantly pushed himself away from Chris. “You’ll regret this as much as I will. You’ll lie in bed for the rest of the evening feeling unsatisfied and wanting me, and I won’t be able to come to you.”

Chris shivered at the sexy timbre of his voice and the lethal calm in his eyes. She knew he was right, but she had no choice. Thank goodness for Aunt Edna. I have no defenses against this man. I feel like a moth being drawn into the flame.

Aunt Edna’s slippered feet slapped against the stair carpet.

Ken turned and left before Edna reached the kitchen.

Chris wrapped her arms across her breasts and was consumed with an all-encompassing loneliness for Ken Callahan.

Chris looked at the slim gold watch on her wrist and groaned. Five-ten. She was late. She was tired. She was cranky. And she certainly didn’t have time for breakfast. She slung the gray sports bag over her shoulder and shuffled down the dark stairs. Ordinarily, Aunt Edna would be up making breakfast, but she’d overslept today, too. Chris shrugged into her vest and reached for the door-knob.

A large hand closed over her small one. “Making a hasty retreat?”

Chris turned and found herself squashed between the door and Ken. He smiled good morning and kissed her softly, as if she were a delicate treasure. He was right, she thought, he was a terrific kisser. She halfheartedly reminded herself that she was grouchy and didn’t want to be kissed…or talked to…or smiled at. She tried to look stern. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I want to watch you teach ice skating.”

Chris wrinkled her nose. “It’s five-ten. It’s dark out. The birds aren’t even up yet. Go back to bed.”

“Are you kidding? I even took a shower to do this.”

“Well, I don’t feel like having an audience today. I’m tired and grumpy…and I don’t want to be bothered by you.”

“Hmmmm, couldn’t you sleep last night?” His tone was mockingly innocent and maddeningly triumphant.

She tilted her nose up defiantly. “I slept fine after I had my cocoa.”

“I’m glad cocoa has such a soothing effect on you.” He nuzzled her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I didn’t have any cocoa to soothe my frustration. I lay awake all night, thinking about you.”

Chris wound her arms around his neck and murmured in contentment. “Poor Ken.”

He chuckled softly and kissed her neck. “You’re so responsive. So nice to love.”

And dumb. And weak. And sappy. Had that been her voice murmuring “Poor Ken”? “Ugh! Get away from me.” Chris pushed him away, stamping her foot in frustration. “What is it about you that turns me into mush?”

Ken sucked in his breath as her boot accidentally came down on his bare foot. He stood absolutely still for a second, his right hand holding her arm in a viselike grip. He expelled his breath and closed his eyes. The expletive that escaped between his clenched teeth caused Chris to raise her eyebrows.

“You’d better not let Aunt Edna hear you say that. She’ll let you have it with the wooden spoon.”

He relaxed his hand, smoothed the fingerprints from the sleeve of her warm-up suit, and regarded her with calm fury. “You broke my toe.”

Chris looked down at the bloody gash and already swelling toe. “Why don’t you have shoes on?” she wailed.

“Because I can’t get shoes on by myself. Because you broke my damn arm. Because I haven’t had a chance to buy loafers, yet.”

Chris bit her lip. “Maybe it’s not broken?”

“I’m sure it’s broken. I’m getting good at recognizing broken bones.”

“Maybe we should put some ice on it.”

“I don’t want ice,” he ground out. “I want to go to the hospital.” He lowered himself gingerly onto a stair and held out a sock. “Just help me put this damn sock on…and this damn shoe. And then you can drive me to the damn hospital.”

Chris glared at him and tugged the sock onto his healthy foot. She slipped his running shoe on and tied the laces. “I don’t see what you’re so damn mad about. It isn’t as if it’s entirely my fault.”

“Not entirely your fault?” he sputtered. “Lady, you’re a fruitcake. I suppose you think I saw your boot coming down, and I slipped my toe underneath it on purpose.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean. You…you take advantage of me.”

“Well, you’re not going to have to worry about it anymore. I can’t afford to break any more body parts. At this rate, I’ll be a paraplegic by Friday. And God forbid what might happen if I ever got you into bed! A man would have to be crazy to take his clothes off anywhere near you.”

Chris grit her teeth and held his other sock out to him. “Do you want me to put this on you?”