The Harder They Fall by Jill Shalvis Read Free Book Online

door slammed open, smacking Trisha in the rump and propelling her full force into Hunter. He grabbed her easily, regaining their balance with an almost feline grace.
    “Trish, I—” Celia’s voice seemed loud in the stunned silence of the room.
    Trisha dropped her forehead to Hunter’s chest, wondering if she could possibly be lucky enough to have a huge hole swallow her up.
    “Oh. Oops,” Celia said.
    Embarrassed, Trisha backed slowly out of Hunter’s embrace and turned to face her friend.
    “The space scientist, I presume,” Celia said dryly, her eyes burning with avid curiosity as she studied Hunter. “Conducting a new experiment? Never mind”—she raised her hand—”don’t answer that. I’m gone. In fact, I was never even here. Never saw ya.” With a wide grin, she backed out of the room and shut the door.
    For once, words failed Trisha.
    Hunter had his hands on his hips. His brow was creased, his face dark with a moody concentration she didn’t know if she wanted to understand. But his eyes still held the fire of barely leashed passion.
    “Do you have any idea what the hell just happened between us?” he demanded.
    She smiled weakly. “Absolutely none.”
    He nodded thoughtfully. “Pretty intense.”
    “You could say that again,” she muttered, running her hands over her hips to smooth down her dress.
    His gaze followed her movement. He looked about as far removed from a stuffy scientist as he could get, and none too thrilled about it. “That’s some dress, Trisha.”
    Used to criticism, she automatically stiffened, just managing to bite back the surge of defensiveness. “Isn’t it?”
    “I’m sure I didn’t mean that the way you seem to have taken it.”
    “Forget it.”
    “Trisha.”
    “Just forget it.”
    “No, wait a minute. Tell me you’re going to give me more credit than thinking I would actually criticize your clothes.”
    She didn’t want to hear him lie, not when he’d made it so obvious what he’d thought of her. Yeah, but that was before they’d kissed with wild abandon . Dammit, this was out of control. “Maybe we should back up a bit,” she suggested.
    “Back up,” he repeated. “To that kiss?”
    “No.” She had to take a deep breath. “To why you’re here.”
    “Oh.” His face tightened into a scowl. “I wanted to talk to you about your kitchen floor—or my ceiling—depending, of course, on which apartment you’re standing in.”
    Oh, yeah. She’d nearly forgotten that not only had she made quite a first impression by falling through his bathroom, she’d also nearly destroyed his kitchen. “I’m sorry.”
    “You’ve already said that,” he pointed out smoothly. “I don’t expect you to keep saying it.”
    He had no way of knowing that it was a terrible habit of hers, drilled into her during childhood. Apologizing profusely, then continuing to do so, had become a life-long habit. A self-destructive habit she had promised herself she would break.
    “I don’t have a key to your apartment,” he said, still watching her carefully. “And I need to see the full extent of the damage.”
    Reaching into her desk, she pulled her purse from the bottom drawer, took her front-door key off the ring.
    “Thank you.”
    “I’ll reimburse you for the damage, of course.” With what? She had a stack of bills a foot high in the upper right drawer, awaiting attention.
    “It won’t be necessary. I’m planning on doing some renovations while we’re at it.”
    His warm, work-roughened fingers brushed against hers as he reached for the key. She glanced up at him to find him studying her with now-familiar intensity. Something strange unfurled within her. Longing , she realized with some surprise, and it annoyed her. “I caused the damage,” she said stiffly. “I’ll pay for it.”
    “There’s insurance.”
    “There’s also a deductible.”
    He sighed, dropped his gaze down to their fingers, still entwined around the key, and studied them silently.