Knowing You by Maureen Child Read Free Book Online Page A

looks like I feel.” Nick shook his head and regretted it. Carefully tipping his head back, he squinted into a clear, brassy sky and snarled at the sun. It didn’t help.
    He felt like cold shit, no doubt looked like the back end of hell, and his mouth tasted like he’d been grazing on a toxic waste dump. Yeah, the hometown hero was looking real good. His right foot slipped farther into the mud and the cold, wet sludge filled his shoe.
    Great.
    Slamming the car door shut, he started for town, fighting to pull his feet free of the swamp with every step. The first thing he needed, besides a kick in his own ass, was a jumbo cup of coffee. Or a dozen. Then he’d have to face his older brother and get him to put the Vette back together.
    Nick’d worry about putting himself back together later.
    *   *   *
    â€œI’m serious; you’ve gotta get out of here.” Now that she was dressed and feeling just a touch more incontrol, Stevie practically ran down the stairs from her loft to the shop and kitchen below. But it didn’t matter how fast she ran; her memory kept pace with her. And it seemed determined to keep flashing images of the night before across her still-dazed mind. As if her brain were flipping through a stack of still photos, she saw Paul, naked. Paul, on top of her. Paul, kissing her. Paul. Paul.
    Oh God, Paul.
    His footsteps sounded out right behind her. But she didn’t need to hear him to know he was there. Heck, she
felt
him.
    â€œWe didn’t do anything illegal, Stevie.”
    â€œBarely,” she murmured, softly enough that she didn’t think he’d hear her. His chuckle told her differently. “This isn’t funny.”
    â€œRight. It’s ridiculous.”
    She flicked him a glance over her shoulder as she stepped into the store, made a sharp left, and headed through a swinging door into the kitchen. She pushed it shut behind her and let it slap into Paul as he followed her.
    â€œOw. That hurt.”
    â€œThen my work here is done.” She ignored him. That was the ticket. The way to sanity. Last night hadn’t happened. Nothing was different between them. He was still Pocket Protector. Paul, computer genius. Mr. Safe. Mr. Responsible.
    Mr. Slow Hands.
    Stevie stopped just inside the kitchen and slapped her forehead against the closest cupboard.
    He chuckled again and she slanted her gaze to oneside to look at him. His dark hair was rumpled, his tuxedo jacket was slung over one shoulder, and that stiff white shirt—with no buttons—hung wide, exposing his impressive abs and dark tan.
    Her mouth watered.
    â€œPlease go away,” she said.
    He shoved one hand into his pocket and gave her a slow, lingering look. “And if I do, that makes last night disappear?”
    â€œNo, but it makes it easier not to think about it.”
    â€œAnd I want to make that easier, why?”
    â€œPaul, we both know that last night was a—”
    â€œ-mazing?”
    â€œMistake,” she corrected.
    â€œProbably,” he said, and his gaze swept over her again, igniting her skin, sending bubbles of awareness tripping through her bloodstream. “But I want you again anyway.”
    Her stomach dived for her feet and Stevie swallowed hard. “Don’t say that.” She mentally gathered up the unraveling threads of her self-control and tied them into a knot to keep from leaping onto the cold marble pastry counter and inviting him to join her. “This can’t happen,” she said, and wasn’t really sure if she was telling him or reminding herself.
    â€œYeah, I know.”
    â€œYou do?”
    Hell, yes, he knew it. Just standing here looking at her, though, was almost enough to change his mind. Color filled her cheeks, her eyes flashed with emotion, and nerves hummed through her body, making her seem as if she were drawn tight enough to snap. Pauldropped one hand to the counter’s edge and