Traci On The Spot by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page B

his and pulled her to her feet. Her body slid against his, igniting a very pleasant sensation.
    “You know,” she murmured, “if it wasn’t you, I would have said that was a choreographed move.”
    “And if it was anyone but you,” he countered, “I would have said you went along with it willingly.”
    “Good thing we know each other.”
    “Good thing,” he echoed, following her out the back door.
    But he couldn’t help wondering if they did.

4
    T raci pulled the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her arms, hunching her shoulders slightly against the wind. The incline from the house to the dock below felt steeper than she remembered. She took smaller steps. Age had taken away someof her bravado and made her more careful. So had the fear of falling in front of Morgan and making a fool of herself.
    The weather didn’t help. It was more suited for a homecoming to a dark, gloomy castle on a lonely cliff than a warm summerhouse nestled beside a lake.
    It had been a long time since anything had been tied here, she mused as she looked along the dock. Morgan’s father had owned a small motorboat, but she had favored the kayak he’d left for her and Morgan to use. There had been room for two, but she usually got to it first and was on the lake before Morgan was up. They fought about the kayak a lot.
    And once, she remembered, sitting down on the edge of the dock, the kayak had been more than just the source of conflict. It had caused Morgan to be a hero. He’d saved her from an ignoble, watery end. The kayak had capsized, something she’d been completely convinced that it couldn’t do, and she hadn’t been able to right it, or get out. Her feet had somehow gotten stuck inside. Morgan had been the only one on the dock at the time. She’d abandoned him there. He’d seen the kayak go over and he’d jumped in, swimming out to her rescue.
    Morgan hadn’t let her forget about that one for a long time.
    Traci braced her hands on either side of her. The dock felt rough to the touch. Needed work, she mused. The whole house did, really. But itwas well worth the effort in her opinion. She hated to think of it as belonging to someone else.
    Traci lifted her chin, letting the wind rake spiky, ghostly fingers over her face. Her hair was whipping around her head like curly blond snakes. She looked, Morgan thought, like an illustration for unharnessed mischief.
    Or a temptress.
    “It’s a lot more beautiful than I remember.” She nodded toward the lake. On the other side was a pristine, three-story white house. It appeared closer to her than she recalled. Her mouth curved. “And maybe a little smaller.”
    There was something almost soft about her, Morgan noted. A dimension she probably wanted to keep under wraps.
    “And darker.” Rain was only minutes away, if that long.
    “That, too.” She looked up at the angry sky. It was as if a huge, dark comforter was being slipped over them. “It looks like it’s going to be a mean one.”
    He laughed shortly to himself. “Reminds me a little of you.”
    The comment caught her by surprise. “I was never mean.” Morgan arched a brow at the protest. “All right,” she relented slightly. She could see how he might have misinterpreted her actions over the years. “But not mean -mean.”
    Leave it to Traci to be obscure about something so straightforward and simple. “That terminology might fit right into a long-running children’s programwhere the guy is forever changing his shoes to sneakers and back again, but I’m not sure I follow the distinction here.”
    Traci blew out a breath. It was lost in the wind. “I was just being a kid—”
    He shook his head at her explanation. “Not like any kid I ever knew.”
    It was getting really chilly and she shivered. Morgan curbed the urge to put his arm around her. She’d probably bite it off, just like a fox gnawing off its own foot to be free of a trap.
    Traci squared her shoulders. The wind ran right up her back.