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“Sorry about that.” I release her, though I don’t want to.
She backs to the door.
“Don’t be scared.” I hold out a hand, palm up. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Then why did you grab me?” She crosses her arms over her chest, highlighting her round breasts and hard nipples.
I keep my eyes on her face. The real reason I grabbed her? That black sedan down the block has been watching my house for hours. Her standing on my porch will only draw their attention in the wrong direction. Her direction, to be exact. I may not know who it is, but in my line of work, I can safely assume it’s not a friend. But instead of all that, I say, “It’s just getting a little chilly out there today is all. Fall. I wanted to be neighborly, have you in here where it’s warm.” The warmth doesn’t seem to calm her hard nipples, and I lick my lips.
“Oh.” She narrows her green eyes. “Okay, I guess?” She thinks for a second, then adds, “My friend Kimber knows I’m here. So … so, you know.” Her hand goes to her hips. “She knows. I’ll be missed.”
“Missed?” I try to keep my smirk hidden but don’t manage it.
“Yeah, if you are thinking of--” She gulps.
“Of?” I shouldn’t tease her, but she’s so naïve and sweet in her little apron that I can’t help myself. “What would I be thinking of?” I could give her very specific details of what I’ve been thinking of doing to her, but I assume those words are better left for the bedroom.
“Of like, of keeping me busy for too long. That’s all.” She presses her lips together and reaches for the door knob. “Well, this was fun. I have to get back home.”
“So you came for baking supplies?” I give her rainbow apron a pointed look, then hand her the measuring cup she dropped.
“Oh, um.” She glances at the cup, then peers around at my living room. “Normal,” she says under her breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Flour,” she says louder. “Err, I mean milk. I’m out of milk and I’m in the middle of baking, so I wondered if you had any?” Her cheeks redden as she says the words too fast.
“Sure.” I back up and gesture toward the kitchen. “Come on in.”
“In there?” She doesn’t move.
“Well, I used to keep all my baking goods in the living room, but then I got ants, so . . .” I turn and walk past the granite bar and into the kitchen.
She follows timidly, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny of my home. “You can talk to your lights.”
“Hmm?” I open the fridge and pull out a carton of milk. “Oh, yeah. Saves on energy. Good for the environment.”
She runs her finger along the smooth granite counter. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. I had it redone when I moved in.” I steal a glance out the window. The car is still there. Fuck. I have to do something before she walks out the door, because whoever’s in that car will have no qualms about hurting her to get to me. I’m glad she came over. So fucking glad. But now she’s in danger.
Thinking quickly, I open the carton and sniff, then make a disgusted face.
“What? Spoiled?” She sets the cup on the counter.
“Yeah, it’s bad.” I toss the perfectly good milk into the garbage.
“Well, thanks anyway.” She frowns and grabs her cup.
“But I have another fridge in the garage with some extra stuff in it.”
She peers out the window, her eyebrows drawing together. “You want me to go into your dark garage with you?”
“No.” I pat the counter. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
“Oh.” Her brow smooths, and she hops up on one of my barstools. “I guess that’s okay.”
“Sure thing.” I smile as she continues casing my home. She won’t find anything amiss, but I won’t tell her that and ruin the fun.
