Tori Carrington - Private Investigations

“Don’t tell me. Rule number two in the P.I.’s handbook. If you hear an intruder, hide under the bed.”

She told him to do something that was physically impossible then strode toward the living area. Yes, this might be her first case. And yes, she was probably making a first-class mess of it. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with Joe’s wiseass remarks at every misstep.

“Where’s your gun?” he asked, following her.

She lifted the lid that had kept her eggs warm and snatched the 9mm. She’d put it there thinking that if she was interrupted during breakfast, it would be close at hand.

Of course, the minute she’d needed it, she’d forgotten it. Out of sight, out of mind, or so the saying went. She took some pride in that the clip was firmly in place. At least this time it had been loaded. She chose to ignore the rest for the time being.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked as she swung around.

“Whoa, there.”

Ripley found him standing closer than she thought he would be, and the muzzle of the gun nearly pressed against his solar plexus. He carefully pushed the gun and her hand aside.

“Don’t worry. It’s on safety,” she told him.

“Tell me why that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She smiled at him. She’d forgotten how enticingly handsome he was. Her gaze caught on his mouth, and she leisurely licked her lips.

“Ripley?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t look at me that way.” She watched a swallow work its way down his throat. “You might not like what happens as a result.”

For all intents and purposes last night marked their first kiss. But given the circumstances, Ripley hadn’t enjoyed it to the extent she would have normally. Gunmen probably had that effect on a woman. But right here, right now, there was nothing to stop her from thoroughly exploring Joe’s smart, sexy mouth. She stepped forward, her gaze firmly on his lips. He caught her by the shoulders.

“Sorry, Ripley. Some men might find a woman with a gun attractive. Me? Frankly, it scares the shit out of me.”

She realized she still held the 9mm in her right hand and sighed. “Party pooper.”

His grin could have coaxed seedlings into full-grown plants. “You had your chance last night.”

“Last night I didn’t know you.”

“You don’t know me all that much better now.”

She twisted her lips to rid them of the itching. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He glanced at his watch. “And of course you would pick now to change your mind.”

“Of course.”

He sighed. “I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now. A very important meeting that could have a very important impact on my company.”

“Uh-huh.” She could tell by the way his gaze kept drifting to the front of her T-shirt and her mouth that the idea of her kissing him was looking better by the second. She leaned in until their lips were almost touching.

“Which, um, brings me to the reason I’m here,” he murmured.

“You mean you didn’t come back just to pull me out from under the bed?” But before he could answer, Ripley softly pressed her lips against his.

Joe groaned, his left hand going for her right and the gun. He held it still while his right hand skimmed under the hem of her T-shirt to grasp her breast. She dipped her tongue and tasted his lips. Coffee. Something sweet. A doughnut? She worked her tongue into his mouth. Vanilla. Definitely a doughnut. Bavarian cream.

He quietly cleared his throat, flicking the pad of his thumb over her erect nipple. “What I have in mind takes place on top of the bed, not under it….”

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