Lori Foster - Bewitched - In Too Deep

She relaxed slightly, her body settling more closely into his and he could feel her heartbeat, could hear her breathing. “I can’t imagine you as small, or with sticky fingers. You’re so big now, and you seem so…fastidious.”

“Yes, well, we all must grow up.” Hoping to catch her off-guard, he asked, “What were you doing there, Charlie? And why the cross-dressing costume?”

She turned her face inward, doing the cuddling he’d suggested. Moments before he’d been cold and uncomfortable. But now he felt abundantly warm, almost too much so. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if his damp clothing started to steam.

She was a very soft, very feminine weight nestled into his lap. And he really did enjoy her scent; something about it hit him on a gut level, very basic and primitive, forcing him to react in spite of himself. Overall, it was the kind of thing men fantasized about. Except for the kidnapping and the irritating storm.

“I was there to spy on someone.”

He hadn’t expected that, and the immediate conclusion he came to had a volatile effect on him. He stiffened, his voice sounding cold and hard even to his own ears. “A lover? A husband?”

She chuckled. “Nah, I have no interest in either of those, thank you very much.” There was a heavy silence, then she added, “I suppose you could say I was actually spying for someone else.”

“A friend?”

“Mmm. I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.”

“Well, you blundered into a mess and now I have to rescue you.”

“Just like a fabled hero?” Her hair tickled his chin as she shook her head. “Not likely. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m the first one to admit I’m not hero material. But I am bigger and stronger and I know the situation, whereas you’re small and weak—”

She punched him in the stomach and he wheezed, then immediately flattened her against him so she couldn’t retaliate further.

“—and you obviously don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Okay, so tell me. Who are these clowns who grabbed us and what are you going to do about it?”

He twisted to look down at her, and she lifted her face at the same time. Their noses bumped. Harry’s thoughts scattered, and he struggled to bring them back to order. It wasn’t easy.

“First I’m going to get you home and safe and out of my way. Then I’m going to get Floyd and Ralph, on my own ground, and pound some sense into them.” He hesitated, pondering his own words and the probability of enacting them. “Maybe. I still have to weigh my personal vendetta against a promise I made to get them both legally stopped.”

“A promise to who?”

“The friend who makes burnt sugar. He owns a shop in the area. Floyd and Ralph work for Carlyle as petty extortioners, and my friend refuses to pay. He’s been threatened, and I don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.”

“What had you planned to do today?”

As she asked it, her gaze dropped to his mouth and one small hand opened on his chest. She looked vaguely confused, as if dealing with unfamiliar feelings. Harry understood completely, since he was in a similar predicament.

He forgot to answer her for the longest time. He could feel that small palm, warm and still, like a brand against his flesh. It aroused him, and surely that was insanity.

“Harry?”

He forcibly shored up his flagging wits. “Today I was just sizing things up.” He touched her cheek where the bruise was visible, along with a little swelling. His tone lowered with regret. “Damn, I’m sorry you got hit.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Given her backbone and courage, he didn’t doubt she’d led a hard life, but hearing of it made him want to hold her closer, to protect her. They stared at each other while Harry’s fingers gently coasted over the bruise. If for no other reason than this, Floyd deserved to feel his fist, Harry decided.

“Answer me something, Charlie.” His hand cupped her cheek and she didn’t protest. He smoothed wet tendrils of hair away from her face, marveling at how soft her skin felt. Surely all women were as soft, but he couldn’t seem to remember.

She didn’t move away and he felt his heartbeat thud, felt his muscles harden. “Did you mean what you said about not being interested? Not at all?”

Her gaze met his, so close. “Interested in what?”

“A lover.”

“I don’t know.” She frowned, then looked at his mouth again. “I’ve never given it much thought.”

He drew a slow breath, filling himself with her scent. “And now?”

She looked away, then back up again with a sort of daring grin. “I admit I’m thinking about it.”

She was so bluntly honest, he smiled. Charlie might be demanding, but she would never be manipulative.

Her arms looped around his neck. “You know, Harry, this is turning into a romantic moment after all, isn’t it?

Harry gently kissed the bruise on her cheek, his lips just grazing her skin, his nose nuzzling her temple. “Hmm. And I don’t even have my flashlight out.”

She chuckled. “I’m starting to like you, Harry.”

It was the chuckle that did it, low and husky. He turned his face and she met him halfway and their mouths met, open and hot and devouring. Oh damn, Harry thought with some surprise. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought she’d be this way, avaricious and hungry, clinging to him as if she’d never been kissed before or was starved for it. He was the starving one, and the hunger had come on him so suddenly…. It turned him on so much he groaned.

Sweeping one large hand down her back, he fondly cupped the adorable backside he’d admired earlier. Soft and sweet, the feel of her made him want more.

But before he could allow things to progress, he felt he owed her a measure of honesty. “Charlie, honey, listen a minute. I have to tell you something.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Getting discriminating on me again, Harry?”

He swallowed hard. Did she actually think he’d want to back out when he was shaking with lust? Not likely. “I’m not interested in a romantic relationship.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Okay.” She tried to kiss him again, her hands clutching his shoulders.

He held her back with one hand, putting breathing space between them. “Charlie, I can’t make you any promises.”

She blinked twice, then frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

She looked so confused he wanted to shake her. He realized his hand still held her bottom and he gave her a gentle squeeze, then shuddered with the effects of that caress. Damn, he wanted her. Insane.

“Marriage.” He cleared his throat and managed to explain. “All those questions earlier. You were hinting about marriage and I want you to know, my plate is full right now. I have no intentions of getting even mildly involved with a woman.”

One side of her mouth quivered, and she bit her lip. Oh God, don’t let her cry, Harry thought, his body so tense he hurt, his mind feeling like mush.

She covered her mouth with her hand and a chuckle escaped. Harry frowned. In the next instant, her chuckles turned to uproarious laughter. “You,” she said between hiccups, “thought I was sizing you up for marriage material?” She laughed some more, not dainty feminine laughter. No, this was boisterous, unrestrained hilarity. “Good grief, I hardly know you!”

Disgruntled with her misplaced mirth and his unabated lust, Harry demanded, “Then why all the questions?”

“Actually, if you must know,” she said, trying to get herself under control and failing miserably, “I had thought to hire you.”

“Hire me for what, damn it?”

“To find out more information on my father.” She wiped her eyes, perched primly on his lap with her midnight hair hung over one eye giving her a seductive look. “That’s what I was doing there today. Spying on him. I haven’t seen him in almost eighteen years.”