Swindled (Close Contact Book 1) by Megan Mitcham

Author:Megan Mitcham [Mitcham, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Megan Mitcham
Published: 2016-06-13T18:30:00+00:00

Magnus blinked in the morning sun and wondered how he’d slept through the city racket with the window open. When he stretched into the hot body next to him, he remembered in a wicked flash. Harper’s long onyx hair fanned over the pillow, nestling her angular and breathtaking features. Gone was the heavy makeup. He relished her fresh-faced serenity. Her tongue was sharp, but honest. Endearing.

He knew familial love, but the love for a woman had been about as real as the Cubs winning the World Series in the next century. He didn’t know if things would work between him and Harper past breakfast. But he knew even the potential of time with her, of affection, and something more was worth a try.

Rolling close, he draped one arm over her torso and snuck another under the pillow to tangle in her hands.

Her lashes fluttered open. The brackets of her thin lips etched in a smile that punched him in the gut. If he’d thought making love with her was something, waking with her was just as sweet.

“At the gallery,” she whispered. “You didn’t let her touch you.”

“None have, except you. And you did it before your fingers grazed my skin.”

The unmistakable click-click of handcuffs scratched his brain a moment before the chill of metal synched around his pillow-covered wrist. Magnus tamped the spike of adrenaline at the thought of being caged. If Harper held the key, he might well enjoy the punishment. That was a big if. Would she relinquish him to the handful of people chomping for his sun-dried pelt?

“So you’re planning on keeping me?” Magnus smiled to camouflage his real concern. He wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t a good one either. There were plenty of counts that would keep him behind bars long enough that he’d lose Harper. And her honor would let them. Hell, her morals might demand it. Damn ironic that the trait he most liked about her—besides her sweet ass and disarming smile—would be the one that sealed his fate.

“Oh, yes.” Her brows waggled. The rounds of her cheeks and arching mouth knocked him back onto the pillow. A wrinkle worked its way between her brows. “I just can’t decide for what: business or pleasure.”

“Why not both,” he offered the Hail-Mary-long-shot of his lifetime, and that was saying something.

Her mouth opened, and then closed. She bore into his gaze with her own, searching for what he didn’t know, but hoped his walls dropped enough that she caught a glimpse of it. “I’m listening,” she whispered.

Magnus cradled her cheek in his hand, beyond thankful to whatever god listened to his plea and determined to become a man worthy of the beauty in his embrace.

“Check out my story, Detective Lang. Whatever grievous charges stick, force me to work off my sentence here, with you.”

Those light blue eyes shifted back and forth. Weighing her career and morals against her lust and—just maybe—a piece of her heart. A breath whooshed past him laden with mint and a hint of sex.

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