Truly Madly Yours by Rachel Gibson

Author:Rachel Gibson [Gibson, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Fiction
ISBN: 9780062205612
Google: dlV_HTDEA6gC
Amazon: B0070XFCIA
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1999-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Delaney stared at the closed door for several heartbeats. No way was she going to open it again. She’d vowed to stay away from Nick. He was nothing but trouble, and she was pretty sure she had a bad case of bed head. But she did want new locks. “I’ll leave the keys in your office later,” she yelled.

“I’m busy later. It’s now or next week, wild thing.”

She yanked the door open again and glared at the disgustingly handsome man standing there with his hair pulled back and hands in the pockets of his biker’s jacket. “I told you not to call me that!”

“That’s right, you did,” he said, walking past her into the apartment as if he owned the place, bringing the smell of autumn and leather.

Cold air swirled about Delaney’s shins and up her nightshirt, reminding her that she wasn’t dressed for company, but she wasn’t exactly showing anything, either. She shivered and shut the door. “Hey, I didn’t invite you in.”

“But you wanted to,” he said as he unzipped the big silver teeth of his jacket.

Her brows drew together and she shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” Suddenly her apartment seemed so small. He filled it with his size, the scent of his skin, and his massive machismo.

“And now you want to make coffee, too.” He wore a gray and blue plaid flannel. Flannel shirts were obviously a big staple in his wardrobe. And Levi’s. Soft Levi’s, worn at interesting places.

“Are you always this cranky in the morning?” he asked, his gaze scanning the apartment, taking in everything. Her boots lying on the worn beige carpet. The old appliances in the kitchen. The two boxes of tampons on the counter.

“No,” she snapped. “I’m usually very pleasant.”

His gaze returned to her, and he cocked his head to one side. “Bad hair day?”

Delaney put a hand to the side of her head and stifled a groan. “I’ll get the key,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed her purse. She pulled out her “Names to Take, Butts to Kick” key ring. When she turned around, Nick was so close she jumped back and her behind hit the cabinets. She stared at his hand, thrust toward her. His long blunt fingers, the lines and calluses in his palm. A silver zipper closed his black leather sleeve from elbow to wrist. The aluminum tab lay across the heel his hand.

“Where are the closest outlets to your doors?”

“What?”

“The electrical outlets in your salon.”

She dropped the keys into his palm then squeezed past him. “By the cash register in front, and behind the microwave in the storeroom.” And because he looked liked a breathing fantasy, and she was sure she looked horrible, she snapped, “Don’t touch anything.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” he called out to her as she practically ran down the hall. “Give myself a perm?”

“I never know what you’re going to do,” she said and shut the bedroom door behind her. She looked in the mirror above her dresser and raised a hand to her mouth.

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