The Virgin and the Vengeful Groom by Dixie Browning Page B

sweet secret she possessed. Had only to look into her eyes to be captured by something he saw there, something he sensed just under the surface. For a lady who had Back Off, Buster, written all over her, she seemed curiously vulnerable.
    Oh, yeah, she was a puzzle. She was a challenge, and he’d never been able to resist a challenge, which was why he’d gone into the line of work he had.
    But this one he was determined to resist if it killed him. He was in no position to do anything else.

Five
    A slight breeze had stirred sluggishly all day. Just before sunset, it sighed out, leaving the air hot and humid. The kind of air that steals energy and replaces it with temper. Left to himself, Curt would have stripped down, crossed the stretch of burning sand to the ocean and hit the surf. The therapist had recommended water aerobics. He was pretty sure body surfing fell in that category. If it didn’t kill him, it would probably cure him…eventually.
    â€œI don’t suppose you have an air conditioner,” Lily said wistfully. There was a gleam of sweat on her skin that made him want to lick it off. He put the aberration down to the weather and wondered if it was worth getting the place rewired to handle some heavy-duty cooling for as long as he planned to be here.
    â€œSorry. No AC, no stereo, no TV.” In other words, no distractions and damned few comforts. At the moment he could have done with a distraction.
    â€œHow do you keep up with the news?”
    â€œShortwave radio. Internet.”
    Her mouth formed a silent O. No lipstick, just Lily. Did she realize what a turn-on naked lips were on a woman with skin like hers? He figured there must be some interesting genes in her pool. Italian. Maybe Far Eastern or American Indian.
    The name, though, was strictly Irish. If it really was her name. It was probably a pen name. A pseudonym. Honesty was a quality he’d learned not to expect in a woman.
    On the other hand, a lily by any other name and all that…
    â€œHey, it’s suppertime, isn’t it?” he exclaimed, feigning cheerfulness.
    This wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t interested in food, he was interested in woman. In this woman in particular. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t know her. He had no idea if he would like her or not if he ever got to know her, because he had no intention of getting to know her any better than he did. They had one thing in common, and one thing only.
    Two, if you counted hunger. Her stomach growled, as if on cue.
    She looked embarrassed, but carried it off beautifully. “Food would be lovely,” she said politely.
    â€œSo…what’s your pleasure, madam? Pizza? Seafood?” He knew what his would be under more favorable circumstances, the lady being willing.
    â€œWhatever you like is fine with me. Naturally, I intend to pay my share.”
    It was just past five, but he’d skipped lunch. If she’d wanted to stop she could’ve asked. She hadn’t.
    â€œIt’s not a case of paying your share, it’s a case of what kind of takeout do you want, pizza or seafood?”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œThey deliver. Others might. I haven’t tried anything else.”
    â€œWhat about dining out?”
    â€œHelp yourself. I’m planning on ordering in, but I’ll give you directions if you’d rather explore a few of the local establishments.” Nice going, Powers. Show her what a classy guy you are. “Look, I’m sorry—tomorrow I’ll do better, I promise, but for now, can we just make this easy?”
    Oh, hell, he was begging.
    Trouble was, he was stiff and sore after being cooped up inside the cab of his truck all day and then lugging in those blasted boxes. All he really wanted to do was fill his belly, then stand under a hot shower for about twenty minutes until he’d washed away some of the accumulated stiffness. He felt about a hundred years old.
    No