A Secret Life by Barbara Dunlop Read Free Book Online Page B

Not to mention the way the T-shirt delineated well-developed arm and shoulder muscles. Anthony was a lot sexier under his pressed suits than she’d ever imagined.
    And that was saying something.
    “I heard a noise,” said Heather. “I woke Joan up. She told me it was frogs.”
    Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Frogs?”
    “They can get pretty loud at night,” Joan defended.
    “Somebody was trying to break in,” said Heather.
    “We don’t know that,” said Joan. “Heather’s a nervous sleeper. They were probably just—”
    “Prowling around on your porch?” Heather moved in closer, her body forming shadows against the small kitchen light.
    “It might have been a reporter,” said Joan, trying to stay logical—and concentrate on keeping her gaze above Anthony’s neck. The room was getting hotter, and her skin was growing sensitive beneath the satin of her nightgown.
    “Might have been,” he agreed with a nod.
    It took Joan a second to recapture the thread of the conversation.
    Anthony raked his messy hair back from his forehead with spread fingers.
    She controlled a little shudder of reaction.
    “Okay,” he said. “We’re not going to figure out much tonight. You two go to bed. I’ll camp out on the couch.”
    Joan blinked. Oh, yeah. That was a great idea. A sexy, tousled Anthony in her house overnight? She didn’t think so. “You’re not staying.”
    “Of course I’m staying.”
    Her chest contracted, inner thighs tingling. “Whoever it was is halfway down the bayou.”
    “They might come back.”
    “Yes, they might,” Heather agreed. “You have a gun?” she asked Anthony.
    Anthony shook his head. “Afraid not.”
    “We don’t need a gun,” said Joan. And they didn’t need a bodyguard, especially one that tempted Joan to do something really embarrassing. “We’ll block the front door with a chair or something, and I think the back lock still works.”
    Anthony and Heather both stared at her in silence.
    She glanced from one to the other. “What?”
    “You actually think there’s a chance in hell I’d leave?” Anthony’s jaw went hard and his lips compressed.
    “Of course.” But Joan’s voice faltered. He didn’t look like a guy who was leaving anytime soon.
    He moved forward. “Take off and just leave you to fend for yourself?”
    Okay. This was getting silly. Joan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ve been fending for myself for ten years now.”
    Something flickered in Anthony’s expression, but she couldn’t quite place it.
    “Well, I’m going to bed,” said Heather. “I feel a lot better knowing Anthony is here.” With a toss of her blond hair, she turned and headed up the stairs.
    “See that?” said Anthony. “Even Heather admits I should stay.”
    “Heather’s sleeping in the guest room,” said Joan, trying to turn his attention to the practicalities of the situation. “And my couch is way too small for you.”
    It was ridiculous for him to sleep in her cottage just because something went bump in the night.
    “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said.
    “You’re not going to sleep on the floor.”
    He moved closer still, and his blue eyes darkened for a split second, making her shiver with awareness.
    “Where would you suggest I sleep?” he asked softly. If it was anybody but Anthony, Joan would have interpreted the words as innuendo.
    “In your bed. At Luc’s B and B.”
    “Not going to happen.”
    “Anthony.”
    “What?”
    “I can’t let you do this.”
    They stared at each other. It was a test of wills, and the air crackled between them.
    A small smile grew on his face. “You, my dear, have no choice.” He crossed to her wicker couch.
    “It’s my house.”
    “And I’m your lawyer.”
    “You’re my agent.”
    He shrugged. “Same difference.” He tested the floral patterned cushions with the flat of his hands. “Besides. I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.”
    This was ridiculous. He was a good foot longer than the