Free Ain’t Misbehaving by Jennifer Greene Page A

disarming grin bearing down on her instead. “You never do anything halfway, do you?” Mitch shoved his odd-shaped package at her and bent to retrieve the scattered books. “Button your coat,” he ordered.
    She buttoned, silently eyeing him with all the bristling awareness of a porcupine. If he thought he was going to just show up in her life again…
    “Where’s your car?” he asked.
    There were a lot of problems with answering that question. The first of which was admitting that she hadn’t driven. The second of which was implying that she needed his help.
    “Was that too hard a question?” he asked mildly. “We could start out with easier ones. Have you ever considered buying stock in a bookstore? And in the meantime, I take it we’re walking this library home? Or do you just want to stand there and glower at me?”
    She did want to stand there and glower at him. He was carrying the books as if they were cotton balls. There was nothing more annoying than a male male.
    And that was the disgusting problem about Mitch. The way his collar stood up against his cheeks, for instance; the way his skin was windburned, his dark hair careless… Primitive instincts announced themselves in her bloodstream. She felt swamped by his virility. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t even touched her.
    “I can carry them myself,” she informed him.
    “I have no doubt you can do anything you want to. And if you’re in an independent sort of mood, I’ll give you back your books and just trail behind you, separate but equal.”
    Now when did he sneak in that boyish grin? Separate but equal, indeed! She had no desire whatsoever to smile at him, and to hide the twist of her lips she glanced down, finding herself suddenly staring at the odd-shaped package he’d shoved into her arms. “What is this, anyway?”
    “A football. For Robert.”
    When she peered up, only for a second, Mitch’s dark eyes were sliding over her features as if claiming private property. Most irritating. “For Robert? You weren’t even at the hospital this morning.”
    “Yes, I was. Before seven. I left early, so that later in the morning I could pay a visit to Peter at his house.” He started walking while she was trying to figure out why she wasn’t still furious with him for not calling.
    Furthermore, he was walking fast. When you were going uphill against the crowd, you either walked slow or died from hyperventilation. Apparently, no one had ever mentioned that to him. “Was Peter okay?”
    “Terrific. He said to give you a hug. He doesn’t really miss us, though. With his mom getting around again and all his friends calling, he’s doing fine.”
    “Mitch.”
    “Hmm?”
    “Are you some kind of physical fitness maniac?”
    He stopped instantly, his thick eyebrows shooting up in alarm. “I was going too fast?”
    “I don’t know. Are you training for the Olympics?”
    Actually, he was only trying to make sure she didn’t take back her books and disappear. He didn’t blame her for being a bit touchy, after the vanishing act he’d pulled two weeks ago.
    Every instinct told him he was risking acting like a fool. Every instinct but one, and that one told his heart not to let her out of his sight, that to let her go again would be like losing part of himself.
    Nothing could go wrong if he simply pursued a friendship. A platonic relationship.
    “Are you?” she repeated.
    “Am I what?”
    “Obsessive about physical fitness.”
    He hesitated, looking down at her. A wisp of hair had escaped her hat and curled sensually around her throat, inviting the touch of his hand. Platonic, his head echoed morosely. “No,” he replied absently, trying to remember her question. “I run a little, play a little racquetball. Not for any fitness medal, but for the sheer pleasure of it. You see, there was a time when I—” He clammed up abruptly.
    Kay slid him an exasperated glance when he stopped talking. She halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Don’t do