Finding Chris Evans: The 9-1-1 Edition by Erin Nicholas Read Free Book Online

at the look in his eyes. It was almost predatory.
    He stopped next to her chair and reached out, lifting the sleeve of her T-shirt. He frowned. Then he lifted his eyes to hers and reached for the neckline of her shirt. She made no move to stop him, just watched him watching her. He pulled the V-neck to the right and then looked down. And frowned again. He hadn’t exposed more than the upper curve of her breast, but frowning seemed inappropriate. Britt opened her mouth to respond, but he reached for the bottom hem of her shirt and lifted it, leaning to look at her back.
    That brought him really close. His heat, the smell of his skin, the smell of the chocolate frosting all combined and Britt closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Dang, a guy who smelled like chocolate frosting? That was pretty hard to resist.
    Which was possibly why she turned her head and put her lips against his neck.
    Or maybe she did it because she was always doing stuff like that. Spontaneity was one of her primary personality traits. As was pursuing pleasure for the sake of pleasure.
    Chris’ reaction didn’t make her sorry. That was for sure. He took in a sharp breath, then let it out with a groan.
    “Britt,” he said gruffly.
    She didn’t move her lips. She leaned in a little and slid an arm around his waist. “Mmm?” she asked.
    He drew in a long breath. “Where are the other tattoos?” he asked.
    But he wasn’t moving away from her mouth.
    “What tattoos?” she asked against his neck. That, of course, caused her lips to move over his skin. Kind of like a kiss.
    She felt heat building low and deep. Her nipples tightened, and she really wanted to put more of her against more of him.
    “I’ve seen—” He cleared his throat. “I’ve seen hints of ink.”
    Ink? On her arms and neck and low…oh. She smiled. “Paint.”
    “Paint?” he repeated.
    He turned toward her more fully.
    She tipped her head to look up at him. “Paint.”
    He looked puzzled. Which of course he should be. What grown woman walked around with streaks of poster paint on her body? Unless she was a preschool teacher or something.
    “I…work with kids a few times a week,” she said. “At my mom’s…work. We paint and sometimes they wave the brushes around or they’ll get it on their hands and then hug me or touch my arm.”
    Chris seemed to ponder that. “Where does your mom work?” he asked.
    Okay, well, he’d find out sooner or later. “She owns the Fun Zone.”
    The Fun Zone was a huge building that housed an indoor obstacle course, and outdoor paint ball course, a rock wall, a trampoline room and a miniature golf course. It also had a huge concession stand, ball pit, arcade, art room and more.
    Chris was clearly surprised. “The Zone? Really?”
    Britt nodded. “Really. It’s her calling—according to her anyway. She opened it after the cancer. She wanted to bring fun to everyone.” That was even the business’s tag line.
    “And you paint there a couple times a week?”
    “I work there almost every day,” Britt said. “And yep, sometimes I’m in the art room.”
    “That explains the glitter, doesn’t it?” he asked.
    She smiled. “Yeah. The stuff’s impossible to get rid of.”
    “And the wad of ones you always carry?”
    “I sell balloons and glow sticks and candy bracelets and stuff. The parents give the kids a few dollars to spend and I end up with a wad of cash in my pocket.”
    “So you’re not an exotic dancer,” he said with a half smile.
    She felt her eyes widen. “You thought I was a stripper?”
    He laughed softly. “Not really. But I couldn’t figure out how the glitter and the money and being late for work and never meeting up with the crew after shift all went to together.”
    “You noticed all of that?” she asked. She’d had no idea he was giving her that much attention.
    “And the caramel corn smell.” He leaned in—which was interesting considering they were already up against each other—and put his nose