Free The Wild Sight by Loucinda McGary Page B

hooded sweatshirt lay on
     the floor beside her, while she lounged on the couch, chewing on a large bite of the potato bread. Two plates and forks sat
     on the coffee table.
    She swallowed hastily. “Sorry I didn’t wait, but I was starving.”
    “Not a problem.” Donovan hadn’t noticed before how the long-sleeved black T-shirt she wore clung to her slim torso and molded
     around her breasts. His sudden pang of hunger had nothing to do with his stomach.
    He hurried into the kitchen to brew the tea. By the time he came back, carrying a tray with two mugs, the teapot and some
     McVities Digestive cookies, he’d reined in his rebellious libido. Rylie, who had polished off her portion of farl, scooted
     over and patted the sofa cushion beside her. He set the tray down, then seated himself before he filled the mugs.
    “Here you are, tea straight up.” He reached for his own plate. “Do you take your coffee the same way?”
    “Actually, I like something called a Cappuccino Blaster from this little place down by Santa Monica pier called Jabba’s Java
     Hut.”
    Donovan chuckled. “How very Hollywood,” he said between bites. “So you live in Santa Monica. And what is it you do, acting?”
    She gave him a big eye roll while she chewed a McVitie, then took a gulp of tea before she replied. “I’m a dental assistant.”
    “Ah, that explains the lovely smile then.”
    Blushing a bit at his compliment, she finished off her cookie then picked up another. “That and three years of braces, followed
     by four of retainers. What about you? Where in the States do you live and what do you do?”
    “First, promise me you won’t laugh.”
    He shoved the remainder of his food into his mouth while she held up two fingers and murmured, “Scout’s honor.”
    After he swallowed, he took a sip of tea then admitted, “If you must know, I live in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and I’m a CPA.”
    Rylie gave a half-snort and quickly covered her mouth. “You’re kidding, right?” she mumbled behind her fingers. “I’d never
     kid about something so serious.” Donovan crossed his arms and tried to look severe, but his mouth quirked in spite of his
     best effort. “No, seriously. My Aunt Fee’s husband, Uncle Isadore, founded one of the biggest accounting firms in Philly and
     I work for him. Cherry Hill is a nice little bedroom community just across the way in Jersey.”
    Trying hard to contain her mirth, Rylie snorted again.
    “Stop that. You promised.”
    “Sorry,” she giggled. “But if all the single women I know thought they could find such a hunky CPA with an adorable accent
     in New Jersey, there’d be a mass exodus from California.”
    Donovan took a turn at rolling his eyes. “Very funny. Now I know for certain you’re part Irish with that load of blarney you’re
     handing me.”
    Suddenly, her pretty face went serious. “I know you don’t want to believe me, but Dermot is my father. After my mother died, I hired an investigator to find him.”
    He blew out a frustrated breath. “Your investigator is wrong, Rylie, and so are you. You’re not Dermot’s daughter. You can’t
     be.”
    “Why not?” she demanded, clutching his sweater sleeve. “Because I don’t have this Sight thing like you?”
    “No, because—” His eyes dropped to her hand, now lying flat on his forearm. A jolt of heat seared through him and scrambled
     his brain. “Because . . . ”
    He hooked his unencumbered arm around her slim waist and pulled her against him. His lips sought her tempting mouth. Sucking
     in her breath, she stiffened for a moment and flattened both her palms on his chest.
    All he could think was how warm she felt. How soft her lips would be. Cradling the back of her head with his free hand, Donovan
     fitted his mouth over hers.
    With a long sigh, Rylie moved her hands around his neck and went boneless, her lips parting under his. Pulse pounding loud
     in his ears, he plunged his tongue into the warm, moist recesses