Free Desert Ice Daddy by Dana Marton Page B

the tracker wasn’t in the Thermos Gary gave you, did he touch you?” His voice was slightly off.
    “He gave me a hug when he showed up.” And she’d been so relieved that he was sober and cooperating that she had let him that close, if only for a second.
    “He could have planted a tracker on you then.” Akeem was already reaching for her collar, running his sure fingers across the material, the back of his hand brushing the sensitive skin on her neck. “I don’t want to turn on the flashlight in case anyone is out there looking for us. We can check by feel.”
    That Gary would betray her like this when their son’s life was at stake defied belief. She stood still for the search, seething with anger.
    Until Akeem’s fingers brushed against her collarbone.
    She held her breath.
    When he didn’t find anything there, he moved on, giving her clothing a thorough examination, down her arms, her waist, her legs to the cuffs on her pants, leaving a tingling path in his wake. But since stripping out of her clothes was the only alternative, she couldn’t very well protest, not even if he was awakening some long-dormant sensations that made it difficult to remain motionless under his hands.
    She felt nineteen again, except that she no longer needed beer in her system to dull her inhibitions. She was a grown woman. A woman who could still remember how she had thrown herself at Akeem, had touched him, pulled him close, had pressed her lips to his. She had wanted him with all the passion and desperation of youth.
    And she wanted him still.
    The realization came as a surprise, leaving her annoyed and embarrassed. And aching for more of his touches. But no way would she ever proposition him like that again. She’d just as soon not repeat the most embarrassing night of her life.
    He’d shown little interest in her then, and even less since. Well, ever, to be truthful. And then there was Kat Edwards, the woman Akeem had not long ago brought out to the ranch. He’d asked Flint to hire her as a favor. And he’d been checking in with Flint on how she was doing. Who was she, and what was the relationship between the two? The few times Akeem visited lately, his first trip was always to Kat.
    She had tried hard not to hate the woman who’d succeeded at getting Akeem’s attention in a way she’d never been able to.
    Even now, with him touching her and her body fairly begging for more, he was nothing if not professional, didn’t linger. Her face, on the other hand, was flooded with heat by the time he finished. She was more than aware of his proximity, of the intimacy of their situation.
    He stayed still for a long moment, breathed in, breathed out. “I can’t find anything,” he said darkly, then stood in front of her and held his arms out to the sides. “You’re next. I’ve been talking to the cops. One of them could have stuck something on me while I was busy with the other.”
    An invitation to touch Akeem.
    Oh, my .
    What wouldn’t she have given for this a couple ofyears back? And even now, she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as she would have hoped. So much for all the maturity and self-control age was supposed to bring.
    “So Kat is doing well at the ranch.” Her hands slightly trembled, which was ridiculous. She reached for his collar before he could have noticed, determined to be just as matter-of-fact about all of this as he had been.
    “She really likes it there,” he said.
    His shoulders were wide, his arms strong. She could feel the smooth bunch of muscles under his shirt, and pulled back a little before he thought she was copping a feel. Returning to a marginally more professional level, she checked the row of buttons on his shirt. I can do this. She almost had herself convinced when she looked up into his swirling dark eyes that seemed to shine in the dim tent.
    There didn’t seem to be any air in Hell’s Porch all of a sudden. The heat that filled the tent seemed to seep into her lungs and her