Crazy Love by Nicola Marsh Read Free Book Online Page A

there, done that and ripped the T-shirt to shreds when Brandon, her college boyfriend, headed back to the city taking her heart carved into itty-bitty pieces with him.
    “Want to talk about it?”
    “Huh?”
    He sat down and patted the couch. “I’m a good listener.”
    “Bully for you.”
    She chose her favorite chair, a soft recliner covered in worn chintz, the chair furthest from him.
    “Like I mentioned at the diner, when I said coffee, I meant coffee. No heart-to-hearts, no sex and no trying to get inside info on your mom’s relationship with Hank. Capish?”
    He drained his coffee and placed the mug back on the tray. “You’re a fraud.”
    “How so?”
    She scratched at the stenciled Garfield on her mug with her thumbnail, increasingly edgy under his scrutiny.
    “You live in a town called Love, you shove it down the throats of your clients yet the thought of it leaves you cold.”
    “Don’t know what you’re babbling about,” she said, wondering how a guy she’d known for less than twenty-four hours could hone in on her innermost secret like that. And wishing he hadn’t. She didn’t need him prying into her thoughts, showing how intuitive he could be. He was transient and she’d be wise to remember that, tingling tootsies or not.
    “I think you do.”
    “I think it’s time you left.”
    By the determined glint in his eyes she thought he might push the issue but thankfully he relented. Once again he’d capitulated when she’d expected him to forge ahead and despite enjoying their sparring she liked it. For all his confident bluster, it showed he might have a heart.
    “Thanks for the coffee. My suite at the Love Inn awaits.”
    “Thanks for dinner.”
    Fabulous, now they were down to exchanging pleasantries? This was the time she should play GOLF. Go for par. Grab a nine iron. Lower her handicap. She’d gone through agony with that damn wax and for what? She was going to stand here and watch six-four of prime GOLFer walk out her door and probably regret it in the morning.
    “Marc—”
    “Sierra—”
    “You first,” she said, feeling like the gauche girl she’d been on Prom night about to receive a goodnight kiss from Murray Le Carre, her frog prince. He’d looked like a prince, made out like a frog: cold, wet and sloppy.
    “Does the motel have Internet access?”
    Not quite the question she’d anticipated. It sounded nothing like “can I stay the night?” or “will you still respect me in the morning?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Thought I might tie up a few loose ends while I’m here.”
    “Apart from the one involving your mom, you mean?”
    A frown grooved his brow as he ignored her jibe. “The acquisition business never rests.”
    “You snooze, you lose?”
    “Something like that.”
    Feeling sorry for a guy who couldn’t tune out his business on a Friday night, even away from the city, and a twinge of remorse for her last dig, she waved towards the den.
    “You can log on here if you like.”
    “Sure?”
    She nodded, wondering if she could jump him while he bought and sold a few companies.
    “I’ll bring the laptop in here and you can let yourself out when you’re done.”
    His slow-burning smile made her toes tingle again, damn it, though this time they curled into the Aubusson rug beneath her feet, desperate to anchor before she keeled over.
    “When A-Corp makes its next million I’ll think of you.”
    She clutched her heart. “Sweet talker. Take a seat, I’ll get the laptop.”
    As his glance flicked to the jade box again, she added, “And no more prying.”
    “Kill-joy.”
    “Male.”
    “Hey, I’m not the one with enough rubber to retread every car in the Western world.”
    She couldn’t top that and retreated before he tempted her to do more than trade quips with him, like trade clothes; or leave them lying on the floor in the process.
    “You didn’t talk much about your business over dinner, other than the basics,” she said from the den.
    Probably because