The Hunk Next Door by Debra Webb, Regan Black Read Free Book Online Page B

it, anyway.
    She pursed those full, rose-colored lips, pushing his thoughts into dangerous territory. “Coming over here was Mrs. Wilks’s idea.”
    “I believe you,” he said with a smile. “And you made the most of the opportunity. Considering recent events, I would’ve been more concerned if you hadn’t taken a look around.”
    She pushed back her sleeve and checked her watch. “Still haven’t seen the basement,” she pointed out.
    He gave her a mock grimace. “It’s musty and more than a little spooky down there.”
    “Then you can go first.”
    “That’s a big risk. What’ll you give me in return?”
    “If we survive, you mean?”
    He nodded, liking this playful side of her. “Let’s assume the positive.”
    She checked her watch again. “If we survive, I’ll share dinner at my house.”
    “What’s on the menu?”
    “What a guy question.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s lasagna—homemade—and more than enough for two.”
    “Sounds great. Follow me.” He led her into the hallway and opened the door to the basement. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    “Just move,” she said at his back.
    He hit the switch and the fluorescent light at the bottom of the stairs slowly brightened.
    Riley started down, hearing her footsteps on the wooden stairs echo a half beat after his. Reaching the cement floor, he moved aside so she could examine the space.
    She hesitated on the last step, studying him closely while she held a brief height advantage.
    Wondering how she saw him, he let her look her fill. It gave him time to return the favor. Her wide blue eyes made him hate the threats that had her wary of everyone around her.
    He’d done his homework; he knew what she’d looked like before the drug bust. The new, perpetual scowl was a telltale sign of the damage to her confidence. She’d probably always been cautious, but now she didn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Mrs. Wilks.
    As she finally moved past him, he caught a whiff of her shampoo again. He cleared his throat. “Storage and laundry to the left—”
    “Pinball to the right,” she finished for him. “Mr. Hamilton’s hobby.”
    “So you have been down here.”
    “Not recently.” She turned a slow circle. “It’s like a time capsule.”
    It was a valid assessment. “Fortunately they left decent appliances.”
    “That’s a plus.” She walked over to the first pinball machine on the short wall.
    “Want to play a game or two? It works great.”
    “No, thanks. I’m obsessive. If I start I won’t want to quit and dinner will burn.”
    “In that case, allow me to see you safely up the stairs.”
    Her smile chased away the shadows haunting his thoughts. “Thanks for indulging my curiosity.”
    “My pleasure.” He gestured for her to go up first, immediately regretting the chivalry as it put the shapely curve of her hips and backside right at eye level. No one could fault her fitness. Thinking of Director Casey’s reaction if such an unprofessional observation showed up in his report cooled him right down.
    She didn’t seem to pick up on his wayward thoughts, waiting patiently while he locked up and followed her across the driveway and into her kitchen. The houses were similar Cape Cod floor plans, but her decor reflected a more modern sense of style. He liked it.
    “How are the knees?” He pointed to the large ceramic tiles under her feet.
    “Just fine,” she replied as the oven timer went off.
    So much for asking for a tour of her place.
    “My biggest adjustment was the cold,” she said, pulling the large pan out of the oven.
    “I didn’t think of that.”
    “No one does. Go for the reclaimed hardwood.”
    He nodded in agreement. The remodeling ideas were coming to him almost as quickly as questions regarding the drug bust. But he hesitated to wreck the momentum by quizzing her about that case. “Man, that smells good.”
    “It tastes better.”
    She put him to work tossing a salad while she pulled the lasagna out of