No Offense by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Molly

Molly had a hard time sleeping that night. It wasn’t because she was in a strange bed—Mrs. Tifton’s guest room was one of the most luxurious Molly had ever stayed in, with its own en suite bathroom, wide-screen television, and sheets the widow said she’d picked up on a trip to Egypt, the thread count dizzyingly high and soft as cashmere.

Molly wasn’t worried about the High School Thief’s return, either. She knew the alarm was on and that it was unlikely the thief would come back, especially while there was a law enforcement officer sitting in a sheriff’s cruiser right outside the house.

It was that law enforcement officer who was keeping her awake, and the memory of his lips on hers—not to mention those lean, hard hands on her body.

Her attraction to him surprised her. She wasn’t even sure she liked him. Except . . . well, she liked the way he’d donated the money he’d won to Baby Aphrodite. And she liked how willing he was to learn that dance for his daughter. And of course she liked how good he looked in his uniform. And how very, very good his body felt against hers in that uniform.

Okay. She liked him. A lot.

She thought about slipping out of bed and creeping downstairs to visit him in the cruiser. When she peeked through the curtains of her guest-room windows, she could see him sitting behind the wheel of the parked car, bathed in the streetlight, sipping coffee, and evidently listening to something on the radio, since he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. What was he listening to? she wondered. She of course listened to true crime podcasts, but she highly doubted that’s what law enforcement officers listened to. You didn’t tap your fingers to a podcast.

She was dying to find out—and not just about what he was listening to, either. She could come up with some excuse about why she had go down and see him—bring him a refill, maybe, or a book to read from Mrs. Tifton’s vast romance library—and get an answer to all her many questions, most of which were about what lay beneath that dress uniform.

But that felt wrong. He’d know she was only coming out there for one thing, and he’d be exactly right. She didn’t want to seem thirsty, as Elijah would call it, even though she was.

Besides, creeping out of the house to quench her thirst wouldn’t be right, especially with Mrs. Tifton sleeping down the hall, depending on her for protection (not to mention the fact that she might wake Daisy, Mrs. Tifton’s dog, who was alert to the slightest movement). Molly was an adult, not one of the teenagers in the books she loaned out every day. She decided she wasn’t going to act like one.

And John had assured her during the ride back to Mrs. Tifton’s that they were going to get together for a proper date—for some reason he seemed fixated on taking her for a “steak dinner”—soon.

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