Jeanie London - With This Fling

“Bad news. Now go away, Gerard.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “And you were…decent.”

He wondered if she realized just how decent he’d really been. Gazing down at her sleepy expression, he figured probably not, so he accepted her thanks and retreated from the bed. “Sweet dreams, Harley.”

But Mac didn’t go away. Walking from room to room, he searched for clues to help him understand this woman. He wondered what sort of bad news would drive her to drink.

He didn’t have a clue. Companion problems? Ill health? Financial disaster? Death in the family? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall ever hearing she had a family. Amazing how two people could work so closely together, butting heads at every turn… He’d have to find out a lot more about Harley’s life if he intended to slip past her defenses.

And he did. Tonight had only fueled his resolve.

Flipping on a table lamp in the living room, he took in an elaborate computer system and a low-slung leather couch. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked an arbor that appeared to back up to the wall of the property. There was expensive music equipment housed in a unit on one wall, but no television.

Given the obvious age of the architecture, Mac suspected the walls had been recently refinished to their pristine condition and the wood beam floor had been brought back and polished to a gleaming luster.

The kitchen appeared to be a work in progress, with partially bald walls half stripped of dated wallpaper. And something about the way a wallpaper scraper and trowel sat side by side in the drainboard with coffee mugs and water glasses made him suspect Harley had been doing the work herself.

Another surprise—he wouldn’t have pegged gun-toting, black-belt, chopper-riding Harley for the home-improvement type. Which went to show how much Mac needed to find out about her before he stood any chance of convincing her to let their attraction make a difference.

While checking out Harley’s desk, Mac felt the first flutter against his cheek. He swatted away the offending critter and, as it was Louisiana in September, just assumed he’d left the door open too long when he’d carried her inside.

It wasn’t until the third bug dive-bombed at him that he took a closer look. Grabbing the lamp from an end table, he noticed a spray of spider veins along the seam of one of her nicely refinished walls.

He hoped that whatever bad news she’d received today hadn’t pushed her too close to the edge, because she was facing even more if she hadn’t already figured out that she had termites.

Making his way back into her bedroom, Mac sat down and considered his best course of action while he watched her sleep.

A headstrong woman with household pests. Well, he’d wanted a challenge.

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