You're Still the One by Annabel Jacobs Read Free Book Online Page B

deny how much she'd wanted him earlier. If Rick sensed she couldn't get past that, he'd be out of here so fast she wouldn't know what happened.
                  He swung into her driveway and killed the engine. "I want to check your house again for bugs."
                  "You didn't find anything before." She paused with her hand on the door handle.
                  "Don't you wonder where those guys went after I shook their tail?"
                  She should have. She hadn't.
                  It's possible they came back here, installed a little something to make sure they could keep track of you."
                  "All right." After getting out of the car, she moved up the sidewalk and onto the porch in front of him. He stayed close, close enough that she could feel him at her back. She swallowed against the way her nape prickled. She unlocked the door and waited for him to enter first.
                  She felt so out of her league with all this stuff, and Rick acted as though it were second nature. When -- how-- had he learned to do investigative work? Obviously he needed to know these things for his current job. She knew he probably wouldn't welcome her questions so she kept her mouth shut, walked in behind him and closed the door.
                  He motioned for her to turn on the light then the stereo, so she did, keeping the volume at a moderate level. The deep voice of a local DJ boomed out of the receiver before whiskey-voiced Chris Isaak began to sing about doing a bad, bad thing.
                  Inserting the earpiece into his left ear, Rick headed down the hallway. His gaze was narrowed and his nostrils flared in a way that Katie had never seen.
                  He looked like a... predator, dangerous, unfamiliar. Katie couldn't stop the spike of excitement in her blood pressure.
                  From what he'd told her at Tommy's, she knew that this time he would start at the back of her house and work his way to where they'd come in. He moved first to her bedroom, then Grace's, turning in a slow circle in each room. Katie followed slowly, trying to ignore the slow roll of his lips, the ripple of muscle beneath the khaki T-shirt.
                  He made quick work of the bathroom and gave her a thumbs-up. She let out a sigh of relief. She could not handle knowing someone was watching her in the bath.
                  Her gaze locked on his hands. Strong, gentle hands sprinkled with a faint dusting of dark hair. Surrounded by the seductive bass of Chris Isaak, Katie found herself swamped my memories of those hands on her body, stroking, teasing, pleasing.
                  She wrapped her arms around her middle and forced herself to watch Rick, to pay closer attention to the pictures on the walls, to the lights switches, the blades of the ceiling fan, just as he did.
                  When he walked through the living room toward the kitchen, he halted abruptly. Pressing the earpiece close to his ear, he listened intently. He prowled the perimeter of her kitchen, returned to the living room. She moved to the sofa, feeling along the cushions, inside the lampshade, her gaze going questioningly to his. He nodded, those lean fingers edging around the casing of the wall phone as he glanced at the bug detector he held.
                  He reached up to slide a hand along the blades of the ceiling fan, and his T-shirt rode up to expose sleek brown skin. When he stretched, muscle flexed across his flat belly, drawing her eye to the waistband of his snug jeans.
                  She straightened, pulling her gaze away to scan the room, telling herself to keep searching for audio or video equipment, though she hardly knew what to look for. Rick moved to the wall, studies the air-conditioner return where the wall met the ceiling. He ran a