Playing With Fire

“You okay, ma’am?”


His words shook me from my thoughts, and I stared blankly at him as I twisted my fingers into the flimsy fabric of my black tiered skirt. I gave him a quick nod. He grinned, then allowed his gaze to travel lazily over my body, examining me up and down, until his eyes finally zeroed in on my breasts.

With a high neckline, my cream-colored silk top covered my chest fully, though it didn’t seem to matter to him. His green eyes twinkled with extreme confidence and blatant sexuality, which sent a familiar tingle skittering up my spine.

“You seem a little rattled. You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

My fingers knotted together, cutting off the circulation, while my breath caught in my throat. Not only was he speaking directly to me and eyeing me like a tasty piece of candy, but he was referring to me in terms of endearments that sent a thrill up my skirt. Then he flashed me a very male grin that damn-near melded my panties to my body.

When I silently nodded again, he chuckled, straightened, and motioned to the books he’d retrieved from the floor. “Where do you want ’em?”

I stood there and stupidly pointed to the circulation desk, as if I couldn’t speak. Which, at this point, was apparently true. Great. Now he thinks I’m a mute imbecile.

As he made his way to the counter, I followed, admiring his loose-gaited stride and the way his tight rear end filled out his faded Wranglers. The man was definitely a moving violation if I’d ever seen—

My heel caught on the rubber-back entrance mat beneath my feet, propelling me forward until I crashed into his back. He stumbled, but managed to hold onto the books while firming his stance to keep us from falling.

Pushing my palms against his stiff, muscular back, I quickly righted myself and regained my balance. But not before getting a whiff of his masculine, tangy scent. God, he smelled delicious. Thankfully, my 120-pound frame wasn’t enough to bowl him completely over. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice how clumsy I was.

“Darlin’, if you wanted a piggyback ride, all you had to do was ask.” He glanced over his shoulder with a teasing grin, then continued on his way.

Mortified, I closed my eyes briefly and let out a slow, calming breath as I fought the urge to fan my heated face. Jeez, Anna. Get a grip already.

When he reached the desk, he set the books down and turned to face me. “Maybe you can help me with something now. I’m looking for a book on fire accelerants. You know, like cleaners, paint thinners…that sort of thing.”

“I know what fire accelerants are.” I’d finally found my voice, but the words spit out at him, sounding snippier than I meant them to.

Wordlessly, he raised one questioning brow.

I bit my tongue and mentally cringed. What the hell was wrong with me? One minute, I’m checking out his ass, and the next, I’m being rude to him. Talk about mixed signals.

Silently, I motioned for him to follow and led the way, not bothering to read the signs labeling each aisle. I stopped abruptly and reached for a book—the one with the red spine—on the bottom shelf and shoved it at him. I knew it was exactly what he was looking for.

Before he could say anything, I hurried down the aisle, speed-walking away from him. Once I careened around the counter, returning to the safety of the circulation desk, I took a deep breath and stole a quick peek at him from a distance.

Unfazed by our exchange, Cowboy sat at an unoccupied table and opened the book I’d handed him. He glanced up briefly, but barely acknowledged me before focusing all his attention on the printed matter before him. Once he began reading, he didn’t look up again.

Thank God.

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