Free MAD DOG AND ANNIE by Virginia Kantra Page A

this funny little bump, and she scowled. She was not going to waste another second reliving and reexamining his surprising, hot, sweet kiss.
    She entered the kitchen's work aisle in time to see Val MacNeill lay down her big chopping knife and put both hands on her back.
    Thoughts of Maddox fled. Ann set down her tray in concern. "Honey, are you all right?"
    Val turned her flushed face toward Ann and smiled. "Never better."
    "You're not still…" Ann paused delicately.
    "Throwing up?" Val asked cheerfully. She shook her head. "No, we're out of that stage. Now we're in the I - have - amazing - energy - and - a - fabulous - sex - drive - but - my - back - hurts stage."
    Ann blinked. "Well, that's—that's good."
    "Oh, yes. Con is much better at helping with the sex drive thing than with the nausea."
    Ann laughed and began unloading her tray.
    "What about you?" Val asked, reaching for her knife. "Any problems picking up Mitchell yesterday?"
    "It was fine. I was a few minutes late, that's all."
    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you, the time just—"
    Dear Val, always taking responsibility. But Ann was responsible for herself now, or trying to be. "It wasn't your fault. I had a problem with my car."
    Val pulled a sympathetic face. "Oh, too bad. Do you need time off to take care of it?"
    "No, I—" Ann emptied the blue glass bottles into the sink, feeling her face begin to heat. "Actually, Maddox Palmer stopped to give me a hand."
    "Mad Dog?" Val sounded more intrigued than appalled. "Well, well."
    "It was just the radiator hose," Ann muttered.
    "Do tell."
    "There isn't anything to tell. I got a leak in the hose, and he stopped and fixed it with duct tape."
    "That won't hold. You'll have to take the car to a garage."
    "Yes. Well, no." She fumbled, rinsing bottles. "He came by last night and replaced the hoses."
    Val stopped chopping peppers. She turned. "He did what?"
    Ann cleared her throat. "He was only doing me a favor."
    "Sweetie, you don't accept favors. Not from me, and certainly not from the chief of police's son."
    "I didn't. I mean, he fixed the car, but I made him dinner to pay him back."
    "This is getting more interesting by the minute. You cooked dinner for Mad Dog? Ate with him last night? How was it?"
    "It was … fine. He was good with Mitchell."
    "I adore my godson, but right now I'd rather know how the man was with you. Did he behave himself? Make a pass?"
    So much for not thinking about him. About it. Ann began to refill the bottles one by one, concentrating fiercely on the water levels as if her life depended on getting them equal.
    "He kissed me, if that's what you mean," she blurted, both embarrassed and relieved to get it out.
    "Oh, boy. That is definitely what I mean. Did you like it?"
    Ann remembered Maddox's hands in her hair, warm and coaxing, and his mouth on her mouth, hot and hungry. The stubble on his upper lip. The smooth thrust of his tongue. His strong pulse pounding against her grip on his wrists, his solid body—not pressing, not overpowering—but close and urgent. Maddox kissed like he meant it. Like he wanted her.
    Her insides squeezed together. It was a novel and disturbing feeling, being wanted.
    "He surprised me. I don't know. I think so." She winced from the uncertainty in her own voice. She sounded like such a loser.
    Val's eyes sparkled. "Well, tell him to kiss you again so you can find out."
    "I couldn't do that."
    "Sweetie, it's been a year since you left Rob. Maybe it's time to live a little."
    "Not quite a year. The divorce isn't final for two more weeks. Technically, I'm a married woman."
    "And Rob is a creep. You deserve the chance to find out that not all men are like him."
    Ann grabbed a bunch of daisies from the refrigerator and began stripping leaves from the lower stems. "I can't take chances. I have to think about Mitchell."
    "I thought you said Mad Dog was good with Mitchell."
    "Val, listen to yourself . 'Mad Dog.' What kind of mother dates a man with a nickname like that? I