The Harder They Fall by Jill Shalvis Read Free Book Online Page A

“We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot here, Trisha.”
    “No doubt.”
    “The kiss might have made it worse.”
    “Probably.”
    He lifted his head. “I’m not going to apologize for it, since I don’t seem to regret it.”
    “I see.” She told herself she couldn’t think of one reason why her heart took off galloping again.
    “We’re ... different, Trisha.”
    She smiled. “That’s quite an astute observation, Dr. Adams.”
    He didn’t return the smile. “Maybe we could transcend some of those differences.”
    “I doubt it,” she said quite truthfully. He wasn’t likely to loosen up and she certainly wasn’t about to lace up, not ever again.
    “We could always kiss again,” he suggested.
    “Kissing won’t convince me to break the lease.”
    His other hand came up, sandwiching her hands between his large, warm ones. “That kiss had nothing to do with your lease.”
    “What did it have to do with?”
    “I have no idea,” he admitted, dropping her hands and stepping away. The back of his thighs encountered her desk, and he sat.
    He looked stunningly right sitting there, his elegant clothes hugging that sleek body. It made her mouth water with the urge to touch him again, to do exactly as he suggested and go for another bone-melting kiss.
    But that was impossible. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Look,” she said. “We kissed. No big deal.”
    “Right,” he echoed, with a slow nod of his head. “No big deal.” He folded his hands together and watched her.
    “It happens all the time.” Not to her, she thought. Never to her.
    He looked very unpleased. “Not to me.”
    “We definitely shouldn’t do it again.”
    “Wouldn’t be wise.”
    “We’re different , as you say.”
    “Most certainly different.” He spoke with some irony, reminding her of his dry sense of humor.
    Hunter glanced at a box on a corner of her desk. Black fishnet stockings spilled over the edge. His jaw hardened, and he swallowed hard, but she couldn’t decide if it was disgust or excitement. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We’re quite different.”
    “But you’re still moving into the duplex.”
    “Yes,” he said. His hands gripped the wood of the desk beneath him, giving him away.
    “Hunter?” Uneasiness filled her. And suddenly she knew. “You said something about renovating. Oh, no. No ,” she repeated firmly, trying not to panic. “I’m not moving out so you can turn that place back into a one-family house. I’m not.”
    Standing, he pocketed the key she’d given him. Regret crossed his face before it was carefully masked. “I also would like to see a copy of your lease, when you get a chance.” He moved to the door.
    “Why? So you can find a way to break it?” Her voice sounded perfectly even, making her proud. She locked her knees together so he couldn’t possibly see them wobble. “There is no way to break it. Eloise was careful about that.”
    “I just want to read it, Trisha,” he said evenly, kindly, which was the last straw.
    “I’m not leaving,” she repeated, crossing her arms. Nor would she ever, ever kiss him again, no matter how much her body craved the taste of him.
    No way at all.
    “Just try it. Wear it home. Maybe it’ll grow on you,” Celia suggested with a wicked gleam in her eyes later that afternoon.
    Trisha glanced down at the black, short, snug cotton ribbed dress Celia had designed. “It’s ... tight.”
    “Is that all you can say?”
    Guilt lanced through her. All her life, all Celia had ever wanted was to be a designer. “It’s also beautiful.”
    “Yeah. And you look incredible in it. It shows off your every curve.”
    Which was exactly what Trisha was afraid of. “I have too many.”
    “And what a curse that is,” Celia said with a disgusted laugh. “My designs were made for a body like yours.”
    Trisha had to admit, it felt terrific to wear something so flattering. She actually felt pretty. “I think I like it,” she