Bravo Unwrapped by Christine Rimmer Read Free Book Online Page A

glance at the still-sobbing Glory. “I’m going with you—wait. I want to grab a camera…”
    B.J. spoke up before Buck could argue. “Good idea.” She beamed Lupe a big smile—and sent adefiant look in Buck’s direction. “We’ll be out on the porch.” Lupe took off up the stairs and B.J. followed Buck out.
    Â 
    â€œYou can’t avoid me forever,” Buck warned, as they waited on the steps for Lupe to join them.
    â€œProbably not.” B.J. wrapped her jacket tighter against the late-afternoon chill. “But I’m giving it my best shot.”
    â€œWe have to talk.”
    â€œSo you keep telling me.”
    â€œIf you’d taken just one of my damn calls—”
    She waved a hand. “I know, I know. Maybe you wouldn’t have found it necessary to manipulate me into coming here.”
    â€œI didn’t manipulate you.”
    â€œHah.”
    â€œI had a story you wanted. To get it, you paid the price I set.”
    â€œAs I said, you manipulated me into coming here.”
    â€œYou could have turned down the story…” He sent her one of those looks—intimate, dangerous. “Or maybe not. Maybe you couldn’t turn it down. After all, anything for Alpha, right?”
    As if she’d deny it. “That’s right. Anything. Even a week in the sticks with you.”
    â€œA week?” His breath plumed on the air. “I don’t know. This job is likely to take a lot more than a week….”
    More than a week? To cover her dismay, she stuck her hands in her pockets and laid on the sarcasm. “Now you’ve really got me scared.”
    He moved in closer—too close, really. But she had her pride. Damned if he’d make her step back. He asked, “Did you notice?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re actually talking to me.”
    â€œDon’t let it go to your head.”
    He loomed closer still, close enough that she could feel his breath across her cheek, marvel at the thickness of his lashes over those damn night-dark eyes of his. “You’re not scaring me off.” He spoke the threat tenderly. “Not this time.”
    She held her ground. “Watch me.”
    â€œI am. I do.”
    The door behind them opened and Lupe appeared, a black pea coat flung over her black jeans and short-sleeved black sweater. Her bangles jingled as she held up a Nikon. “Ready.”
    B.J., deeply grateful for the photographer’s timely appearance, flashed her a blinding smile.
    Buck muttered, “Fine. Let’s go.” He led the way across the bridge to Main Street.
    As they strolled along the town’s major street, Buck played tour guide. He pointed out landmarks: the post office, the school on a rise one street over, the hardware emporium, the town hall, the firehouse. Three gift stores, a beauty shop, two restaurants. He showed them the bars, of which there were also two—one on either side of the street. And the Catholic church on the hill behind the school. Lupe got several shots of the white clapboard building sporting one central spire and nestled so prettily in a copse of autumn-orange maple trees. There was also a Methodist church, Buck told them, farther up Commerce Lane from Chastity’s B & B.
    Everybody seemed to know him. It was “Buck, how you been?” and “Buck, nice to have you home again,” and “Great to see you back in town.” Some had even read his book.
    One grizzle-haired old fellow perched on a bench outside the grocery store asked him when he was going to write a book about “the Flat,” as the locals called it. “Now, there’s a book that needs writin’.” The old character winked at B.J.
    â€œOne of these days, Tony,” Buck promised.
    â€œYou be sure to come and talk to me before you put down a single word,” Tony warned, turning his bald head this way and that, hamming it up for