Free Charade by Barri Bryan

“Don't make nasty remarks about Ruthie. She may be a little slow in some ways but she has her moments.” After an instant's consideration she added, “She knows how to attract men."
    Trace couldn't believe that an intelligent woman like Lynn would take the advice of a feather-brain like Ruthie about anything.
    "That's not knowledge, it's instinct.” Was it possible that Lynn was that ignorant about something as basic and elemental as how to get a man's attention? That didn't seem possible; at the same time it seemed to be true. He would think about that later when he wasn't so tense and aroused.
    Lynn put her head to her hands. “I feel a little light-headed."
    Trace wasn't surprised. Less than thirty minutes ago she'd downed a jigger of whiskey straight. He should put some distance between them by telling her to get out of his pickup, go upstairs and get in bed. He should, but he didn't. Instead he said, “I'll be here tomorrow at six-thirty to pick you up for your class reunion."
    He felt his body tighten even more. In that dress, with a street light shining on her hair and spilling onto her face, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Get out of here Randolph, while you still can .
    Lynn's breasts moved seductively as she reached for the door handle. “You won't be working here tomorrow?"
    Trace swallowed deeply. “No, I have to complete a repair job over on Jasmine Street."
    Lynn opened the door and got out of the car before once more putting her hand to her head. “Wow, that whiskey had a kick.” She walked toward the stairs that led to her apartment on unsteady legs. She was halfway up the steps when Trace spied her handbag on the seat beside him.
    He grabbed it, jumped from his pickup and raced after her. “You left your handbag."
    Lynn turned and almost lost her balance.
    Trace shouted. “Stand still. Don't move.” He raced to her side, hooked her handbag over one arm and put his other arm around her waist. Her skin was warm and moist beneath the thin material of her dress. “Let me help you up the stairs."
    Lynn grabbed the handrail with her free hand. “It's these damned shoes."
    They maneuvered up the stairs and onto the landing. Once there, a winded Lynn leaned against the banister. “My key is in my handbag."
    Trace fished around inside the bag, found the key and opened the door.
    Lynn went inside and kicked her shoes off her feet. They flew across the floor and landed in a far corner. “I will never wear those uncomfortable things again."
    Trace knew he should run, not walk, down those stairs, get into his pickup and hightail it out of there. What he knew and what he did were two different things.
    Following Lynn into her apartment, he tossed her handbag on the table and laid her door key beside it. “What you need is a strong cup of coffee.” He moved in the direction of the kitchen. “I'll make some."
    Lynn padded after him. “I could use some food, too. I haven't eaten since noon. Are you hungry?"
    The hunger that gnawed at Trace had nothing to do with food. “I had dinner."
    Lynn opened the refrigerator and leaned over to rummage around on a lower shelf. Her well-shaped derriere was abundantly displayed. “I don't see anything I want."
    Trace saw exactly what he wanted. His mind argued even as his body yearned. Don't even think about it. When did passion ever heed the warnings of common sense? He moved to stand directly behind her. When Lynn turned he was so near they were almost touching. Inanely he uttered a breathy little “Hi.” He noted that she seemed much tinier without her stiletto heels.
    Lynn held a package of cookies in one hand and a quart of milk in the other. Her voice was soft and seductive. “Hi yourself."
    Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her dress. Good God! She was as hot and bothered as he was. Trace took the milk and cookies, and backed toward the table before turning quickly to set them down. Had she seen the obvious evidence of his arousal?
    Lynn