Your Mouth Drives Me Crazy. HelenKay Dimon
“Everyone from Seattle barged in, acted like they were the first to discover the beach and ocean, and started building street after street of overpriced houses.”
She photographed the outdoors for a living. She understood the swell of anger and frustration when people took nature for granted or acted as if they owned it rather than borrowed it as a caretaker. “Bitter much?”
“Just honest.”
“We don’t need to drive around the island looking for beauty. It’s right at your doorstep.” She had had enough trouble lately. Tracking down more was not on her agenda.
He watched her fingers, his stare following the placement of every pink packet. “Yeah, but this way if you continue to lie, I can always open the truck door and throw you back in the water.”
He acted as if he meant it. “You don’t have to sound so damn happy at the thought. Where are we now anyway? I mean, I know we’re on Kauai, but where exactly?”
He leaned back against the sink with his ankles crossed in front of him. “Your new temporary home is in Kapaa.”
“Home? You keep thinking I plan to stay the night and hang out with you tomorrow.” She did, but that wasn’t really the point.
“That’s not up for debate. The only question is where. You can sleep on the front porch. The trade winds are cool this time of year, and the waves tend to be loud, but you should be fine if you curl up under the deck chair.”
She refused to dignify that comment by responding. “How many bedrooms do you have?”
“Two. One for me. One for Derek.”
She should have been happier to hear that news. “Problem solved, then.”
“You can’t have Derek’s room.”
She didn’t want to displace the kid. “A gentleman would let me have his bedroom while he slept elsewhere.”
Kane frowned. “Then you should have washed up on that guy’s beach.”
A scream rumbled up the back of her throat but she shoved it back down. “You’re infuriating.”
“Strange talk from a woman who claims to want to sleep inside tonight.” He rinsed out the coffee pot and dropped it in the sink.
“Were you fired for how you treat tourists?”
“One last time, I wasn’t fired.” He stepped back to the table and knocked over the pink packet wall she’d been building. “I’m the police chief and, from what I can tell, the only person you know on Kauai. So, left side or right?”
She forgot all about the sugar. “You’re serious? You expect us to sleep together?”
“Sleep being the operative word.” His face stayed blank and his voice neutral.
The thought of lying next to Kane, of having his scent and arms curl around her, sent her nerve endings tingling.
She hoped that rescuer gratitude wore off soon. With everything else she’d been through, all those months of putting her needs behind her mother’s, her resistance lingered at an all-time low. The idea of a meaningless one-night stand with a hot Hawaiian guy tempted her more than she cared to admit.
If his white-knuckled grip on the back of the chair was any indication, she guessed Kane fought his own battle on that front. Unaffected, her ass. The guy felt the tug and pull between them just like she did.
“I’ll take the couch,” she choked out.
“Not an option.”
Okay, maybe not a good option, but the only option. “Of course it is.”
“Only if you want the handcuffs back on.”
“If you even—”
“Yes?”
“I’ll kick you square in the—”
“Understood, but the answer is the same,” he said with a wink. “I don’t trust you not to run.”
The wink should have been swarmy. On him, it came off as sexy. “I have nowhere to go.”
“You’re a resourceful woman, Annie. So, you either sleep next to me, where I can feel you and hear you, or you sleep on the couch with the handcuffs to keep you warm and toasty. You choose.”
Did he have to say “feel”? “That’s not a choice.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get.” Kane walked to the doorway and shut off the light, leaving her sitting in the dark kitchen. “Ready?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Not one bit.”
Chapter 7
A few hours later Kane decided that being in bed with Annie could be described only one way: pure torture. Lying on top of the covers in sweat shorts and a tee with her tucked underneath the bedding provided a small barrier. A thin cotton shield between his body and hers. Too thin.
He could feel the heat radiating off her through the sheet. Could smell her scent, a mixture of his shampoo and her skin, on the pillow. When she turned on her side and snuggled her firm bottom against his thigh, he broke out in a cold sweat.
“I’m hot,” she grumbled.
That made two of them. “You’re wearing four layers of clothing. You could trek through the Arctic and not worry about frostbite.”
She sat up and punched her pillow. Probably pretending the defenseless thing was his face.
“I’m wearing what I had on before bed,” she said between shots.
“Plus my robe.”
“The air was cool.” She slapped the pillow a few more times.
“It’s eighty degrees.” He didn’t own an air conditioner, preferring to throw open the windows and let the trade winds drag in the breeze off the ocean.
“A cool eighty,” she said.
She’d said she lived in Seattle, but now she found Hawaii cold. Interesting. Made him wonder if the Seattle story suffered from the same problem as the amnesia one—being false. “So you needed the robe and my sweatshirt?”
She stilled in mid pillow fluff. “How did you know about the sweatshirt?”
“I saw you digging through my drawers.” Leaving her alone still wasn’t an option. Not until he knew her story. Having her last name would be a start. Until then, he’d piss with one eye on her and one on the toilet.
This time she punched his shoulder. “You were in the bathroom.”
“Hey!”
“Were you watching me?”
The woman packed a punch. “Don’t hit me. Ever.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Absolutely nothing. “Throw your pretty little ass in jail. That’s assault.”
Even in the dark room, he could see her mouth fall open. The woman had to know how enticing her butt could be. Her shock must have been a result of the threat.
“Just answer me.” She balanced her head on her elbow and hovered over his left shoulder.
Her soft hair brushed against his cheek and tickled his nose. He could see her sexy auburn curls in the pale light from the window. A deep, dark sultry red.
“It’s my damn house.” Unexpected desire whipped through him, making his voice gruff.
Maybe he should try a real vacation. Fly to Arizona. Take in a football game. Find that nice woman