Free Tempting Meredith by Samantha Ann King

got it naturally. She couldn’t see him lifting weights and artificially aerobicizing.
    A long, harvest-gold-and-brown couch positioned along the back wall bumped up against the floor lamp. She’d stepped onto the set of That 70s Show . On the middle cushion was a laptop, closed. It seemed incongruous that this pickup-driving, gun-loving, cowboy-boot-wearing man would have a computer, much less a laptop. But she’d known he was connected. They’d exchanged emails.
    A touch at the small of her back made her jump.
    “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
    She forced a smile. “It’s okay.” To cover her nervousness, she slipped away from him and tossed her purse on the Parsons table at the opposite end of the couch from the lamp. “Are you going to read my feet?”
    “Do you want me to?”
    “It might prove amusing.”
    He grinned as if he already knew all her secrets. “Oh, I think it’ll be more than amusing.” He nodded at the couch. “Have a seat.”
    She sat at the end closest to her purse, her hands tucked under her thighs, palms down on the worn nubby fabric. She was kind of nervous about what he might learn, which was silly. Foot reading? Really? It was like palm reading. A fun party game or a scam to bilk the supernatural believers out of their money.
    Charlie relocated the laptop to the gold shag carpet and sat on the middle cushion. Sliding a firm, sure hand behind her calves, he lifted her legs and placed them across his lap. She scooted around until her legs stretched out in front of her, then she clasped her hands together in her lap.
    When she was settled, he caught her gaze and smiled. “You look skeptical.”
    She lifted her brows. “I can’t imagine why.”
    “And sad. What happened?”
    “What do you mean?” She forced a small chuckle. “Did my feet tell you that?”
    “I noticed it first thing this evening.” He frowned and rested the tip of his finger between her brows, making her aware of the tension there, despite her efforts to appear nonchalant. “Your eyes are sad and—”
    “And?”
    He shrugged. “Nothing.”
    He withdrew his finger then slowly drew an imaginary line from the hem of her jeans over her ankle. She held her breath when his light touch grazed the top of her foot just above the strap of her shoe and sent shivers of pleasure up her legs to lodge in her sex. He slipped a finger under the strap, and some of the stiffness in her spine faded. He slid off one high-heeled sandal, and it thumped on the carpet. He brushed his thumb back and forth across the sensitive arch of her foot then applied pressure. Her eyes rolled back in her head. God, that felt good. The second shoe followed the first. Both arches received the same surprisingly sensual attention. Her clasped hands loosened, and she melted into the sofa.
    “Interesting.”
    She jerked and opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them. “What do you see?” she asked then almost bit her tongue at the ridiculous question. He didn’t see anything. It was a party game.
    “You have a pet.” He paused. “A cat.”
    Okay, that was a little freaky. Or maybe not. Most people had pets, and most of those pets were cats or dogs. “Is her name written down there?” she asked sarcastically.
    “No, but her coloring is.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “She’s dark. Black—” Meredith began shaking her head, but Charlie held up his hand and stopped her. “Let me finish.”
    She took a deep breath and held her tongue.
    “Black, brown and...she’s a tortoiseshell,” he said triumphantly.
    Her jaw dropped before she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How did you know that?”
    “I told you. It’s a gift.”
    “That’s BS.” She checked her feet for cat hair. Nothing. “Did you access my Facebook page? Do we have friends in common?” She couldn’t imagine they did, but weirder things had happened, like him guessing the color of her cat. Besides, she didn’t post photos of Huggins online.