The Deadliest Sin
Page 30
“May I help you with something?”
Hmm. Angry female, due immediately south of his wide open back. And he was fairly certain there were sharp knives in reach. Not the best strategy he’d ever employed.
Already damned, he reached inside the cupboard and slid a large insulated cup from the stack, snagging a plastic lid as well, before gently closing the doors and straightening to a stand. “Just looking for a cup,” he said as he turned, a careful smile on his face.
The smile froze as he got his first look at the cupcake baker.
He wasn’t normally taken to poetic thought, but there he stood, thinking her clear, almost luminescent skin made her wide, dark blue eyes look like twin pools of endlessly deep, midnight waters…and her ensuing gaze that much more probing. In fact, it was surprisingly difficult to keep from looking away, every self-protective instinct he had being triggered by her steady hold on his gaze. Which was rather odd. She was the village baker. And despite the tirade he’d just overheard, he doubted anyone who made baking cheerful little cakes her life’s work would be a threat or obstacle to his mission here. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, lifting the cup so she could see what he’d been about. “You sounded a bit…occupied, back there.”
“Yes, a little problem with a collapsed rolling rack.”
His gaze, held captive as it was, used the time to quickly take in the rest of her. Thick, curling hair almost the exact same rich brown as the steaming hot brew he’d yet to sip, had been pulled up in an untidy knot on the back of her head, exposing a slender length of neck, and accentuating her delicate chin. All of which combined to showcase a pair of unpainted, full, dark pink lips that, even when not smiling, curved oh-so-naturally into the kind of perfect bow that all but begged a man to part them, taste them, bite them, and…
Now he did look away. Damn. He couldn’t recall his body ever leaping to attention like that, after a single look. No matter how direct. Especially when his attentions were clearly not being encouraged in any way, if the firm set of that delicate chin was any indication.
“Nothing too serious I hope,” he said, boldly turning his back to her and helping himself to a cup of coffee. After all, he’d paid for it. Not that she was aware of that as yet. But he thought it better to risk her mild displeasure until he could point that out…rather than engage more of the fury he’d heard coming from the back of the shop minutes ago. Which he was fairly certain would be the case if her sharp gaze took in the current state of the front of his trousers.
“Nothing another five hours of baking time won’t resolve,” she said, a bit of weariness creeping into her tone. From the corner of his eye, he caught her wiping her hands on the flour covered front of her starched white baker’s jacket. “Please, allow me.”
He quickly topped off the cup and snapped on the lid. “Not to worry. I believe I’ve got it. I left a ten note on your counter.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding sincere now. “It’s been…a morning. I’m generally not so—”
“It’s fine,” he said, intending to skirt past her and duck back to the relative safety of the other side of the counter. The tall, trouser-concealing counter. He just needed a moment, preferably with her not in touching distance, so he could button his coat and allow himself a bit of recovery time. It seemed all he had to do was look at her for his current state to remain…elevated.
Very unfortunately for him, and the comfort level of his trousers, she moved closer and reached past him. “The sugar is here and I have fresh cream in the—”
“I take it black,” he said abruptly, then they both turned the same way, which had the continued misfortune of trapping her between the counter…and him.
Her gaze honed in on his once again, only this time he felt like he was the one holding hers captive.
“Okay,” she said, her voice no longer strident. In fact, the single word had been a wee bit…breathy.
“Indeed,” he murmured, once again caught up in that mouth of hers. Those parted lips simply demanded a man pay them far more focused attention. Step away, Gallagher, he counseled himself. Sip your coffee, gather your wits, and move on.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2010 Caroline Richards
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-6278-3
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue