Free Cherry Adair - T-flac 09 by Edge Of Fear Page A

wasn’t telling him anything they didn’t already know. “Where else?”

    “Honduras—great diving there.”

    “Love diving. We’ll teach the boys.”

    Honduras—hell, all of South America—was being checked as they spoke. His comment coaxed a small smile to her pretty lips. Caleb was distracted again as he imagined nibbling her lower lip.

    “Yes, we’ll want the children to be good swimmers.”

    It didn’t task his imagination much to think of her in a tiny swimsuit. She’d look great in a skimpy thong, her skin oiled and—he shook his head to banish his offtrack thoughts.

    “The water’s also nice in the Caribbean,” she said. “Bermuda has beautiful pink sandy beaches. Then there’s the Mediterranean, lots of private islands to rent.”

    Shaw wasn’t in his usual haunts anywhere in the Caribbean, or Bermuda, or frigging around his known hangouts along the Mediterranean. They’d checked. Double-checked, and would continue to watch. But the man hadn’t amassed the kind of wealth he had by being stupid.

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    T-FLAC wasn’t the only group after the son of a bitch.

    “Do you have a favorite?”

    Shaw’s daughter— yeah, remind yourself who this woman is, smartass —shrugged. “I used to, but that was a long time ago.”

    Time to change the subject. Preferably to an activity where he could imagine her fully dressed. He had to tamp down this attraction—bloody hell. Attraction would be like calling a forest fire a weenie roast. He had to beat down the sparks before he burned up. “Opera?”

    Heather laughed at his expression as he’d wanted her to do. Unfortunately her laughter shot to his groin like a heat-seeking missile, making his pants too tight and sitting damned uncomfortable.

    Jesus. SOS. He was in big trouble here.

    “You look like a kid told to eat spinach when you pull that face.” She sipped her drink, automatically licking whipped cream off the corner of her mouth. “I love the opera,” she told him cheerfully. “How about ballet?”

    He turned her hand over and stroked her palm with his finger. She had a long lifeline, and newly formed little calluses on her fingers. Must be from the tools she used when she made her jewelry. “Love it as much as I do opera.” The smell of her constricted his chest.

    “Girls’ night out, then.”

    “No problem. I’ll stay home with the kids. We’ll eat junk food and stay up la—” His fingers tightened over hers on the table. “Know what I want more than my next breath?”

    Her gaze went from his mouth back to his eyes. She shook her head. He leaned in, close enough for his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    breath to stir her hair. “To kiss you.”

    Her mouth parted softly. Her pulse leapt at the base of her throat, and her pupils flared in a show of nerves and excitement. “Are—” She swallowed hard, then licked her bottom lip. A quick heated swipe.
    “Are you asking permission?”

    He shook his head. “A kiss loses the lure of spontaneity if one has to ask.”

    Her pupils dilated. “Are you trying to lure me, Caleb Edge?”

    Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he pressed closed lips to her slightly damp palm. Scared, Little Red Riding Hood? “Not lure. Seduce.” Trust me.

    Her fingers curled around his. Once again she didn’t pull away. Their eyes met and held, hers heavy lidded. She had a nervous habit of biting the corner of her lower lip that drove him insane with hunger, and she did that now. Caleb almost groaned out loud.

    He dipped his head, then paused, his mouth a breath away from hers. Skimming his fingers along the curve of her jaw he watched her eyes darken to aged whiskey with anticipation. She dragged in a ragged breath. Not fear. Excitement.

    He wanted to kiss her so badly he shook with it.

    Hoisted by his own petard.

    As his pal Jake liked to say: “It’s good to