His Wicked Dream (Velvet Lies, Book 2) by Adrienne deWolfe Page B

into her," she added meekly. "Stazzie doesn't usually like people. In fact, she avoids them—unless they're sick."
    Michael made what could only be described as a choking sound. Stazzie rubbed his ankle, purring all the louder.
    "Um..." Eden set aside the broom, wondering what would be more scandalous, prying Stazzie from Michael's leg or watching the cat rub whatever sinewy, male body part she chose. "Would you like me to put Stazzie outside?"
    "That would be appreciated, yes," he ground out, making a dexterous grab for the fur behind Stazzie's neck. The cat yowled in indignation, but Michael braved flailing claws and flashing fangs to thrust Stazzie toward the door. Eden held it wide, and the sullen feline stalked across the threshold, her tail slashing the air behind her.
    Thus ends another cease-fire. In resignation, Eden dumped the dustpan, rubbed it clean of pie filling, then turned back to Mrs. Buchanan's grocery list. As much as Eden was dying to know where she remembered Michael from, she didn't dare ask him to enlighten her until she was confident that they could both laugh over the incident as friends. Unfortunately, the chances of that happening were growing bleaker by the moment.
    As if to verify her conclusion, Michael began hammering with a vengeance.
    Wincing at the sound, Eden checked the onion bin. Finding it empty, she crawled up on Aunt Claudia's stool to complete Mrs. Buchanan's order. The perch was awkward with its wobbling three legs, but she needed its extra height to reach the onion sack that Aunt Claudia, or more likely Michael, had thrust on the top shelf.
    "Blast," she muttered when her fingers fell short of their mark. Careful not to trip over her skirts, Eden eased herself back to the floor and moved the stool more directly under the sack. She glanced hopefully over her shoulder. Michael was busy cranking a wrench and didn't appear to have the slightest inkling of her dilemma.
    "Um, Michael? Do you think you could—"
    "Help you?" he finished for her, testing the window handle he had just repaired. "I was wondering if you were too stubborn to admit you weren't tall enough."
    Ooh. Eden fumed. So he had been aware of her dilemma!
    "Never mind," she retorted. "I may not be tall, but I'm resourceful." Grabbing a nearby wall hook, she leveraged herself higher, testing the strength of a shelf with her foot.
    "Eden," Michael warned.
    "Pray go back to grousing. I'm sorry I disturbed you."
    "Don't be a fool."
    She heard his boots thumping behind her, and she glared over her shoulder. "Michael Jones, you stay right where you are. I don't need or want your—"
    She was interrupted by an insidious cracking. The hook twisted in her hand. Suddenly, the mounting ripped from the wall, and she gasped, flailing through a hail of plaster. She made a desperate grab for a shelf; the stool heaved, throwing her sideways. She might have crashed to the floor if her breasts hadn't struck Michael's shoulders first. His arms clamped over her waist, and she "oomphed." She found herself sliding down his torso.
    For a suspended moment in time, she was locked in his embrace. Her heart hammered madly against his chest; her feet dangled helplessly beneath her. All she could see in that instant were his eyes, two molten pools of sapphire, so hot and hungry they consumed her senses, flushing her skin with fever.
    She gulped, her breath rattling in her throat like dried leaves.
    "Th-thank you."
    His lashes fanned downward, inky spikes that did little to impede the radiant heat of his gaze.
    "Y-you can put me down now."
    "You're bleeding."
    His voice, husky warm with concern, rumbled deep in his chest and vibrated into hers. It was a heady sensation, one that distracted her almost completely from the throbbing in her left hand.
    "I am?" She noticed then the ragged flash of her knuckles and the bruise purpling the base of her thumb.
    He nodded. As he held her, she could feel the heat of his hands, reassuring but titillating too, as