Going Deep (Coastal Heat #1) by Maggie Wells Read Free Book Online

other night.”
    He huffed a laugh. “Fat chance.”
    “Brian, I have a job to—”
    He held up a hand to stop her. “Are you going to try to tell me it’s professional and not personal?”
    “It is,” she insisted.
    “Right.”
    A tiny muscle jumped in his jaw, triggering a hot wave of self-loathing. Before she could stop them, explanations and excuses came spilling forth. “I’m in a really weird place right now…My job is…I’m trying to figure out what I want, and this isn’t the best time for me to get…in—”
    She broke off with a grateful, if breathless, laugh when the waitress appeared at their table holding paper-lined plastic baskets heaped with food. “Half-slab platters,” she announced, depositing the baskets with little flourish. “One dry, one sopping wet.” She aimed a toothy smile in Brian’s direction as she said the last, mimicking the flirtatious way he’d placed his lunch order. “Anything else I can do for you?”
    He flashed the dimple responsible for the only successful sweeps periods the Earth Channel had ever known. “I think we have everything we could possibly want.” He kept his gaze locked on the waitress, but Brooke felt every word like a caress. “Thank you, Darla.”
    The waitress shot a snarl in Brooke’s direction then swayed away. Brian chuckled as he plucked the packets of wet wipes from his basket and tossed them to the center of the table, inhaling deeply as gazed down at his lunch with a look best described as adoration. “Smells incredible.”
    “Classy spot you’ve chosen.” She bit back a smirk when he scowled at a streak of sauce along the side of his hand. “Usually people pick someplace a little more…upscale when they know someone else is paying.”
    Brian grinned, unabashed. “I can’t get enough barbecue.” He cleaned the smear on his hand with a slow lap of his pink tongue. His lashes lowered and her breath knotted in her throat. A low groan marked his obvious relish. When his eyes popped open, she caught the gleam of smug superiority in them. “Did you know up north they call grilling hot dogs and hamburgers barbecue?”
    She shuddered and wagged her head with exaggerated sorrow. “Poor, misguided fools.”
    Rich, thick sauce coated his fingertips. He pried one rib from its brethren, only to watch in helpless dismay as the tender smoked meat fell away from the bone and dropped into his basket with a plop. He wet his lips. Those dark eyes fixed on his basket with a primal intensity that made her heart pick up speed. “God, I missed this.”
    Brooke gave the paper-wrapped utensils a moment of consideration but quickly dismissed the notion. She was an Alabama girl, born and bred, and some foods were meant to be eaten with one’s hands. Picking a bit of the succulent pork from her basket, she popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Most people miss the shrimp.”
    Burgundy splotches of sauce speckled with spices dropped into the tiny mound of potato salad in his basket. His mobile mouth twisted into a smirk, the tender meat inches from it. “You think I had trouble scoring good seafood?”
    She froze, too, the hot rash of mortification creeping up her neck. Of course he didn’t miss the seafood. He had spent six months of the year aboard some of the most sophisticated oceanic research vessels filming Voyager . Thanks to his time at the Earth Channel, Brian had sailed every ocean, been everywhere, tasted everything.
    “No, I don’t guess you would have,” she conceded.
    He smiled his pirate’s smile—the one that made her think he’d already ripped her bodice open in his head and was preparing to feast on her. The charisma backing his cocky smile was soft and natural, though. Something he’d been born with, but he never quite knew how to use it. She could remember catching glimpses of it back in high school. Thank the Lord he hadn’t known how to channel it back then. If he had, she might have ended up a puddle