need any more evidence that heâd landed in the Twilight Zone here at the Little Bohemie Inn.
âSo,â he said, âI guess youâll claim this is your average, everyday collection of guests at an inn?â
She countered with a pointed stare. âNo less average than your everyday assassin.â
âIâm not an assassin.â
âHit man?â
He rolled his eyes. âPlease.â
She waited, raising an expectant brow.
âAll right, Iâll tell you what I can. But you canât mention this to anyone unless you trust them implicitly. No one can know Iâm here yet.â He lowered his voice. âIt could be dangerous.â
Dangerous. Oh, yes, definitely. âTell me at least one thing. Are you running from something or to something?â
He thought about it for a moment. âIâm not running. But I am pursuing.â He gave her a look of startling intensity, loading his comment with double meaning.
Pursuing. Hmm. A hot romance? A weekend tryst? Mindless, erotic sex with a complete stranger?
âGo on,â she prodded, her voice sounding breathy.
He leaned across the counter, resting his elbows on its surface. Meeting her eyes, as if willing her to believe him, he said, âIâm undercover, Gwen. Deep, deep undercover.â
She lifted a brow. âYouâre a cop?â
âItâs a bit more complicated than that.â
When he didnât continue, she speculated aloud. Lifting her hand, she ticked off her fingers one at a time. âDeep undercover, on a mission, deadly if provoked, not a cop, a hit man or an assassin.â Giving him a cheeky grin, she concluded, âHmmâ¦you must be a woman armed with a high-limit credit card, scouting out Sakâs the night before their annual one-day sale.â
Not waiting for his response, she walked around from behind the counter and pulled out a chair at the massive, butcher block kitchen table. She sat down, even as the tiny voice in her brain urged her to go up to her temporary room and go back to bed.
Alone. Now.
But even as that voice of caution whispered, she knew sheâd ignore it. Tonight was becoming too exciting to consider leaving. The thrill was intoxicating. The danger appealed to a part of Gwen she thought sheâd lost forever. She somehow found herself feeling like the wild, uninhibited girl sheâd once been, before tragedy and sadness had made her decideâif only in her subconsciousâto play it safe and careful, to subdue the wild part of herself that had so often led her into trouble.
The floor was cold against her bare toes, so she lifted her feet, resting them on the bottom rung of the chair. Her white nightgown did an adequate job of covering her hips and thighs, but she kept her hands in her lap, holding everything in place.
But the gown was pulled tighter in this position. Sure, her legs were covered, but they were also outlined by the silky fabric. Her thighs were clearly delineated, as was the slight gap between them. She squeezed them together, watching him notice as he took the chair next to hers.
âThat was a good guess,â he finally said, his voice thin.
Good guess. What guess? She suddenly could barely remember her own name, much less what on earth theyâd been talking about.
âBut I donât think Iâd be tempted to kill someone for buying the pair of shoes I wanted.â
Ahh. Now she remembered. âHave you ever seen the discounts at Sakâs one-day sale?â
He shook his head.
âYou might be tempted. Particularly if theyâre great shoes and the person whoâs buying them looks like one of Cinderellaâs stepsisters, jamming a too-tubby foot in because theyâre cheap.â
âPossibly, but there are two things wrong with your theory.â
He leaned closer, until his knees almost touched hers, and her hair ruffled with his softly exhaled breaths. God, the man was seductive. Even talking about ridiculous things like hit men and shoe sales, all her nerve endings were at the highest state of alert. No amber here, she was full on red and waiting to see what sensual weapons he had left in his arsenal.
Though she knew she should have left, she didnât regret staying. She wanted to know what would happen next. What heâd say. What heâd do. And how sheâd react to it.
âWhat two things?â she finally managed to ask, trying to keep a coherent thought in her head. Difficult when she was so distracted by the way his skin smelled, like salty sea air, and the way his breath brought goose bumps to her bare throat.
âFirst, from what I know of Derryville, I donât imagine thereâs a Sakâs within a hundred miles.â
True. Coming here last winter had been definite culture shock. But small-town life had grown on her. âPoint taken.â
âAnd second, I donât use my dangerous weapons against anyone but the really bad people. Not greedy shoppers with fat feet, no matter how annoying they might be.â
âFor the record Iâm not one of those greedy shoppers.â
As if he couldnât help himself, he leaned closer. She had no idea what he was doing until he touched one of her feet, lifting it off the rung and cupping it in his big, warm hand.
Gwen wasnât a petite woman, but she thought she did have rather nice, slender feet. Feet which had suddenly become massive erogenous zones, because she ached to feel his fingers higher on her body. Much higher. Between her legs. On her breasts. At her throat. Against her cheek. Everywhere she wanted to be touched by him.
âAnd you donât have fat feet,â he said, continuing to stroke her foot, as if wanting to warm her sensitized skin. His touch ignited a flood of sensation that increased the temperature throughout her body. She was left wondering why no man had ever found that incredibly sensitive areaâ¦right there. Yes, that spot high on the inside of her foot, near her ankle. The one that almost made her squirm because, though the touch was focused in one location, she was feeling it everywhere.
She couldnât help emitting a tiny moan. God, if the manâs hands on her foot could make her shift in her seat, because of her bodyâs damp reaction, how on earth would she handle it if he ever touched elsewhere?
Finally, as if realizing he was erotically touching the foot of a near stranger, he let her go, gently lowering her leg until she rested her heel back on the chair rung.
When sheâd started breathing again, a day or twoâ¦minute or twoâ¦whateverâ¦later, she cleared her throat. Sitting here, being so affected by him, she needed to know more about the man. âJust who do you use your dangerous weapons on, Miles?â
He
