The Girl Who Cried Murder by Paula Graves

Author:Paula Graves [Graves, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-10-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Mike cocked his head to the side to give her a better angle, slanting his gaze to hold hers. She stared back at him, her eyes shimmering like a mirror pool, hiding her thoughts. She was nothing less than a tantalizing mystery, begging to be solved.

And he wanted to be the one who uncovered all her deepest, darkest secrets, one by one.

“Come on, Charlie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can do this.”

She let out a slow breath, bathing his cheek with warmth. With a gentle touch, she applied the antiseptic wipe to the open cut, wincing in sympathy at his hiss of pain. “Sorry.”

“What do you think? Will I live?”

She finished cleaning the rest of the blood from the wound and took a closer look. “It’s not too deep. I think you’re right about not needing stitches. I guess you’re probably up-to-date on your tetanus shot, since you were in the military.”

“Yep,” he drawled, intentionally smoldering at her again.

She cleared her throat. “Are you sure you didn’t lose consciousness?”

“I saw stars, but I didn’t really black out.”

“Because you’re remembering things you didn’t remember before.”

“Just that thing about the gloves. And the guy’s scar.”

She started to back away from him, but her feet tangled up with each other, and she started to fall backward.

Mike grabbed her, tugging her back between his legs again. He settled his hands over her hips, his thumbs drawing circles over her hip bones. “I’ve got you.”

This was crazy. He was crazy.

But she felt so good beneath his hands, all interesting angles and surprising softness. She was beautiful like a mountain spring, calmly pretty on the surface but full of surprises beneath, cool currents and warm eddies, with lots of hidden dangers and delights. He wondered if she could see that beauty in herself when she looked in the mirror. He hoped she did.

She gazed back at him, her expression shifting from emotion to emotion, too fast for him to read them as they flashed across her mobile features.

So he asked. “What are you thinking?”

For a long moment, she was silent. He lifted one hand to take the hand she still had pressed against his shoulder to keep her balance, sliding his thumb over her palm.

“I was...” Her voice cracked, making him smile with satisfaction. Whatever else she was thinking, apparently she wasn’t as immune to seduction as her cool exterior might suggest.

She started again. “I was wondering if there was anything else you could remember about the guy. Since you saw his wrist, could you tell if he was white or Hispanic or African American?”

“White,” he said, still not letting her hand go. He held it out in front of him, his thumb slowly tracing over the angles of her knuckles. “I’d say he’s probably relatively young. No older than forty or so. Or else he’s in amazing shape for a man that age. He was fast getting away.”

“Height? Weight?” She kept dropping her gaze to his hand, watching his fingers join his thumb in the slow exploration of her fingers.

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