Free Hot Spot by Susan Johnson

way. Call it instinct.
    "What type is that?" Jeez. Could he see the not-real-experienced-with-bondage girl beneath her bluster?
    "Usually a little more in-your-face." He shrugged. "You know, more—"
    "Assertive?"
    He was thinking hard core, not that that was all bad.
    "I can be assertive. Didn't I create Marky B? She's assertive as hell."
    "Don't tell me you like whips, too." Marky B was good with a bull whip. He had a feeling she wasn't. Call it a hunch.
    "What if I said I was?"
    He smiled. "
That
I'd like to see."
    "I
could
be good with a bull whip."
    "I could knit doilies, too, but it's not likely."
    "Hmpf. For your information, it's
crochet
doilies."
    Now
her
sulkiness was sexy as hell, in contrast to Kirsty's, which was just annoying. "Knit, crochet." He shrugged. "Whatever. Look, sweetheart, if you say you're good with a bull whip, I believe you. Really. I can picture you in leather."
    "You're just saying that." But her heart was pumping overtime because he'd said "sweetheart" in the
sexiest
way possible—all intimate and hushed and sort of endearing.
    She had a little-girl openness that was damnably charming. And unusual in the women he knew; he was charmed to the bone. "Show me tomorrow. I happen to have a bull whip in the barn."
    "What for?"
    Those big grass-green astonished eyes. He probably didn't have to worry about being tied up tonight. "It was here when I bought the place," he said in lieu of telling the truth. This wasn't a night for full disclosure. Very few of his nights were. "Are you hungry?" he asked to change the subject, opening the back door and waving her into the kitchen. "I could make you a sandwich or something."
    "I'll take the something," she said with a smile. "I'm on this train that's only going one way tonight."
    He grinned. "I've been enjoying the ride, too. Care to check out the next stop?"
    Leaning into him, she gazed up and smiled. "I'd be real happy to have you show me."
    If they didn't have guests outside, he'd show her right here in the kitchen. With her, patience wasn't a viable concept. Full steam ahead was his only speed. "That way," he murmured, nodding in the direction of a shadowed hallway, taking her hand in his and moving toward a doorway between open shelves neatly arranged with dishes, glasses, pots, and pans.
    "You cook?"
    "On rare occasions."
    "It looks like you cook. I've never seen so many copper pots." Stella started totting up the prices in her head; one of her personal dreams was to own even a fraction of this array, so she knew prices. That drug dealer label popped into her head again. Although, lottery winner was a possibility as well… outrageous odds notwithstanding.
    "Stay overnight and I'll cook you breakfast."
    "Ummm… tempting. If only I didn't have to make a living."
    "I could make a personal buy tomorrow that might cover your daily sales."
    Her eyes widened.
    "Think about it. Your comic inventory is prime. There's lots of stuff I need. And we could sleep in."
    She made a moue. "I'd have to see Kirsty in the morning."
    "She and Brian might leave, and if they don't, I could serve you breakfast in bed."
    "What are you—Santa Claus and Prince Charming rolled into one?"
    "I'm enjoying myself. I'm selfish as hell. Humor me, and I'll make it worth your while," he said with a grin. Reason had taken a trip around the world; he was operating on sex drive alone.
    "Jeez… I don't know." She smiled. "The hotel package is damned tempting."
    "We're running a weekend special for Lumberjack Days. A personal masseuse, breakfast in bed, mimosas if you like. And all the sex you can handle."
    "Okay. You got me on that last item. The store can open late, and I'll apologize if anyone's waiting at the door."
    "Deal." Half a loaf was better than none. And he had this curious need to wake up with her in the morning. He must be drunker than he thought.
    The hallway was dimly illuminated, and as they walked by an open door, a dazzling display of flashing lights brought her to a