Free The Backup Plan by Sherryl Woods

don’t want you suing me for letting you catch pneumonia on my property.”
    She gave him a disbelieving look. “I don’t think you can file lawsuits for something like that.”
    â€œYou have no idea what people will sue over these days. The world’s a crazy place. Now, are you going to stay put like I asked, or are you going to be stubborn and try to set out in this weather?”
    â€œI’m stubborn, not stupid. I’ll stay, at least till the storm’s over.”
    Something told Dinah there was a distinct possibility she was going to live to regret it.
    Â 
    Cord listened to the shower running in his bathroom and thanked his lucky stars that he’d gotten Dinah out of that sexy, soaking wet sundress and sent her off to change before she’d noticed that he was completely and totally aroused by the sight and feel of her. She’d fit a little too snugly in his arms, smelled a little too provocative. Her dress, respectable enough when dry, had been way too revealing when wet.
    Sweet heaven, what was he thinking? Him and Dinah Davis? No chance in hell. She might be grateful to him right this second, but she’d come to her senses before the night was out and remember that she hated him, that she had good reason to. Add in that he was just too low class for her and any relationship between the two of them was doomed.
    What grated was that he was certain now that she’d never dismissed Bobby as low class. Hell, she was all set to marry his brother, or thought she was. Cord figured it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.
    By the time he heard the shower cut off, Cord had poured a couple of beers into glasses, mostly to prove he could be civilized when it suited him. He’d put a couple of chicken breasts topped with mushroom gravy into the oven to bake. He was in the process of making a salad when Dinah came into the kitchen.
    She didn’t make a sound when she entered, but he knew she was there just the same.
    â€œWhat’s all this?” she asked.
    â€œDinner. I figure even people who watch their waist-lines for the camera have to eat something. Besides, the adrenaline rush from one of those attacks always left me starved.”
    â€œWhat’s in the oven?”
    â€œChicken.”
    â€œIt smells…good,” she said hesitantly, with yet another note of surprise in her voice.
    Cord grinned, though he was glad she couldn’t see his face. He doubted she would appreciate knowing how much she amused him with her faltering attempts to be polite. “You keep dishing out those lavish compliments, sugar, you’re going to turn my head.”
    â€œI was trying to be polite,” she said crossly.
    â€œI get that, but there’s no need to try so hard. Us lowlifes don’t expect much. A simple please and thank-you now and then will do.”
    He turned to set the salad on the table and got his first good look at her in one of his old light-blue dress shirts. He damn near swallowed his tongue. He should have remembered how those long, bare legs of hers affected him. If he had, he would have come up with something else for her to put on…maybe baggy sweatpants, even if it was still eighty-eight degrees, despite the storm passing overhead.
    â€œWhy don’t you have a seat?” he suggested when he could speak without stammering. He needed to get those legs of hers out of sight before he started to imagine them wrapped around his waist while he buried himself inside her.
    He yanked open the freezer door and stuck his head in, wishing it could be another part of his overheated anatomy.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
    â€œIce,” he said.
    â€œIsn’t that an ice dispenser on the door?” she inquired, amusement in her voice.
    Cord cursed the oversize, stainless steel refrigerator Bobby had insisted they buy. “Broken,” he lied tersely. He turned back to the table