Trouble With Harry by Myla Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

with this mop? Her fingers touched a fiery ringlet.
    “Edie, do you have a towel?” Harry called out from inside the shower stall.
    Oh God. Harry needed a towel and there weren’t any clean ones in the bathroom. Edie abandoned the mirror, ran to the linen closet and grabbed her biggest, best towel.
    Now what? How the hell was she supposed to give it to him?
    With her back to the bathroom door, she listened to the sound of running water.
    She could wait until she heard the water go off and hand it to him when he asked. But then he’d have to drip across the cold tile to get to the door. If he slipped and fell he might knock himself out. Then she’d be obligated to administer first aid to his wet, naked form.
    Edie’s breathing quickened until she felt a little dizzy. If she weren’t careful, she’d hyperventilate.
    Perhaps she could toss the towel in while his head was under water and he’d never know she’d been there.
    On the count of three. “One, two, three.” With a deep breath, she shoved the door open and dashed in to hang the towel over the rail of the clear shower door.
    Harry stood with his face under the spray, water running in rivulets down his back.
    With the towel clutched to her chest, Edie froze in place.
    The man was gorgeous. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and a firm yet perfectly rounded—
    “Want to join me?” Harry turned to face her giving her a full frontal view through the clear glass shower door. His penis stood at attention, thick and proud.
    Caught staring, Edie’s face burned. “I b-brought you a towel.”
    “Thank you.”
    Edie tossed the towel on the rail and lunged for the door. Her foot hit a wet spot and she fell flat on her back. Pain shot from the base of her skull to her temples.
    She laid still, all the air jettisoned from her lungs. Edie tried to inhale but nothing worked, except her hearing.
    The water shut off and the swishing sound of the shower door sliding in its tracks echoed off the walls.
    Breathe, stupid, breathe.
    “Edie!”
    Stars spun in her vision, and her head throbbed.
    Then Harry was there, leaning over, dripping water into her face.
    Why did she have to be such a klutz? With her mouth open, she tried to tell him she was all right. But nothing would come out. The wind had been completely knocked out of her.
    “Edie!” He lifted her shoulders.
    When his fingers touched her skin, her lungs woke up and she wheezed in air. “I’m…all…right. Really.” Her breathy voice didn’t sound very convincing, so she pushed against him trying to disengage herself from his embrace. But her hands pushed against his wet, hairy chest. Her fingers threaded into the springy curls. The smell of her soap on his skin and his own special male musk assailed Edie’s nostrils.
    None of the x-rated videos had done this for her. Scents and textures were so much more potent than two-dimensional sight and sound.
    Her hand spanned across his solid muscles, reveling in the strength packaged in warm skin. Harry was a god compared to her dweebish, boring self. What was the use? Be practical. The man couldn’t be interested in her. “You need clothes.” Edie wanted to push against him for real this time, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch him. She didn’t fear what he would do, more afraid of her own reaction. With his help, she sat up.
    Harry stood and looped the towel around his waist. Then he reached his hand out and helped her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders. “You should be more careful on slippery floors.”
    Stepping away from his embrace, she armed herself with anger. “You shouldn’t go flashing your-your—”
    “Manhood? Penis?” He smiled. “What do they call it in the new millennium?”
    “The same things.” Averting her gaze from the tent he’d made of the towel, she strode toward the door, ignoring her lightheadedness. But damn it, she must have swayed. It didn’t help she couldn’t manage to breathe