Runaway Colton. Karen Whiddon

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Runaway Colton - Karen Whiddon Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense

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      “True. But I already told you I wasn’t about to turn you over just yet, remember? Legally, since you haven’t missed your court date yet, I don’t have to. I don’t go back on my word. I told Fowler you’d be back before your court date. You agreed to this. We’re good.”

      She shook her head, hands clenched into fists at her ides. “Tell me the truth. Is Fowler out there waiting for me?”

      Though he knew he should keep his distance, he took yet one final step, stopping a few feet from her. “Let’s get one thing straight between us, Piper Colton. I’m a man of my word. I don’t lie. If I tell you he’s gone, he’s gone.”

      At his words she made an angry puff of sound before she spun and stalked to the other side of the room, away from him. Truman the traitor followed her, tail wagging. She reached down and petted the dog, scratching just above his collar. “You’ve just contradicted yourself. If you don’t lie, how’d you get Fowler to leave?”

      Though damned if he didn’t feel he were hunting her, he followed. “He didn’t ask if I’d found you or if you were here. He demanded a status report, which I refused to give him. Nothing but the truth. That’s the one thing you can always count on from me.”

      “Braggart.”

      Not sure he’d heard correctly, he stared. “What?”

      “I called you a braggart.” She tilted her head as she eyed him, and he wondered if she truly was daring him to defend himself. Damn, she was beautiful, with that heart-shaped face, her emerald eyed fringed with thick black lashes and her spiky blond hair tinged with hot pink. Sexy, too.

      Whatever her intention, her words coaxed a reluctant smile from him. “It’s the truth,” he insisted, merely because he wanted to see what she’d do next. “I never lie.”

      “Never?”

      “Never.”

      She circled him, keeping several feet between them.

      Truman sat, watching her curiously. “That must make life difficult for you sometimes.”

      Thoroughly entertained, he acknowledged her comment with a nod.

      “Do you like me?” No coquettishness in either her voice or her expression, just simple curiosity.

      “Yes. Actually, I’m beginning to,” he amended, still smiling. “Why do you want to know?”

      She shrugged. “Just testing to see if you really won’t lie. Are you attracted to me?”

      A jolt went through him. “Are you flirting?”

      Though she colored, she didn’t look away. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m trying to find out where we stand with each other. I also noticed you didn’t answer the question.”

      He laughed; he couldn’t help it. “I’d have to be dead not to find you attractive,” he told her. “But don’t worry, I won’t let it get in the way of the job I have to do. Or finding Renee. Both are too important to me.”

      Color still high, she finally smiled back. “Fair enough. Now how about we call it a night and regroup in the morning.”

      Though it was still early, he nodded. “Okay. Good night.”

      She sighed. “I’m probably going to regret this, but...”

      Before he could ask what she meant, she crossed the space between them, grabbed him and pulled him down for a kiss. Her mouth moved across his, nothing tentative about it. A wave of lust swamped him. Damn if it wasn’t the most erotic kiss he’d ever shared.

      Standing stock-still, he let her nibble and explore, until he couldn’t take it any longer. Finally, he seized control, needing to claim her. He tasted her, skimmed his fingers over her soft, soft skin, outlining her lush curves. He couldn’t get enough, craving more, breathing her in until the force of his arousal told him he needed to break it off right now or they’d be in trouble.

      He’d be in trouble, he amended silently. Despite the fact that he physically shook with desire, he stepped back, trying to slow his heartbeat and the way he inhaled short gasps of air. Drowning, that’s what this had been like. Drowning in her.

      “Good night,” he rasped, and turned to go. The way he left felt more like a retreat than anything else, but so be it. “Truman, come.”

      His loyal dog, man’s best friend, didn’t budge. So Cord left him there with Piper.

      Once he made it all the way across the house, he headed toward his room, desperately trying to think of something—anything—other than how badly he wanted to be inside of her.

      A cold shower later—which helped, at least for a few minutes—and he finally slipped beneath his sheets. He’d lived long enough to understand what had just occurred between him and Piper was a huge mistake. He needed to do his best to forget it had ever happened. If she brought it up again, he’d say the same thing to her.

      And if she initiated another kiss?

      Just the thought had him burning again. Even though he’d made a conscious decision to try and forget, he couldn’t help but relive the moment.

      He’d held her. Close. Felt every curve and hollow of her body pressed tightly against his. He’d tasted her—or rather—she’d tasted him. Her self-confidence and boldness intrigued and aroused him, which only made her even more dangerous.

      * * *

      The next morning Piper woke and stretched, taking a moment to contemplate before jumping out of bed. She must have been exhausted, since she’d apparently fallen deeply asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. She remembered nothing after that, not even a single dream.

      All her life, she’d been a morning person, to most of the family’s dismay. When she woke, she liked to face the day head-on, full of energy and optimism.

      Today would be no exception, even if she’d gotten a little carried away last night.

      But who could blame her? Being around gorgeous, sexy-as-hell Cord would tempt a saint. And Piper definitely wasn’t a saint. She, like any other red-blooded female, could appreciate a perfect specimen of a man. Cord, with his thick mane of dark hair, chiseled features and muscular body, definitely qualified. Every time she looked at him her mouth went dry and her body tingled.

      Just thinking about him made her want to kiss him again. And more, if she was honest with herself, which she always tried to be.

      The way she saw it, with the two of them in such enforced, close proximity, sex would be inevitable. Maybe she’d simply tell him that, so they could get past the tiptoeing around each other and get right to it. Honestly, she’d been celibate long enough. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.

      If he asked her, she’d tell him the truth. She wanted him. She felt certain enough of that fact to be honest and upfront about it. Though she couldn’t say she never lied. She didn’t truly believe Cord when he said he didn’t.

      A soft whine came from beside her. From a large lump under the blanket. A second later, Truman poked his big head

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