Free At First Touch (The Malone Brothers) by Cindy Miles Page B

“Dammit, Eric! What are you doing here?” Feeling for the edges of her towel, she made sure they were tucked in tight and her boobs weren’t hanging out.
    “Funny you should ask that, Reagan Rose. See, it’s my day off. And I have come to whisk you away on an adventure.”
    “I’m not going on any adventure with you,” she stated. “Please leave.”
    “Have you had breakfast?” he persisted. “We could go grab some—”
    Reagan inhaled, exhaled, reining in her anger. “Malone, leave. I don’t want breakfast and I don’t want an adventure.”
    “You just want to sit out here naked and stare into nothingness?” he asked.
    She noticed the amusement in his voice, and although he was making her madder than hell, part of her had to force herself not to laugh.
    “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Alone. Without you annoying me.”
    “Do you sit out here naked every day?” he continued.
    Reagan smothered a grin with her hand. “I’m not naked, fool.”
    “You are under that towel.”
    She almost laughed. Almost. But she held it in. “Leave! Or I swear I’ll call...Jep.”
    A low amused noise sounded close, and she watched as his dark form rose. “This isn’t the end, Reagan Rose Quinn. It’s only the beginning. Have a nice day.”
    As Eric retreated, Reagan felt her cheeks grow warm. Heat flushed her bare body. Had she felt his eyes on her? It was a new sensation for her, this blushing modesty. The thrill of flirting. She’d flirted before, and had been flirted with. Why did this, with Eric Malone, feel so drastically different?
    And, he was absolutely right. It was only the beginning. Over the next week, if Eric wasn’t at the Coast Guard station, he was at their house, trying his best to coax her into doing something, anything, with him. Go for a drive. A walk on the beach. Crabbing. Fishing. Eating. Flying a kite. Eating some more. It absolutely was something new, every single day. No matter where she was, Eric Malone would find her. She’d even contemplated climbing the old plum tree just to get away from him. She’d flirted with the idea that he was almost harassing her, but truth be told—even if only to herself—she liked it. Liked his pursuit. He was...endearing. Sexy. Yet she wondered, why her?
    By the next week, she hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days, and in a strange, tucked-away dark corner of her mind, Reagan thought she’d actually missed him coming around. She’d tell absolutely no one that fact, but there it was.
    It was Saturday evening, and Emily and Matt had gone to Caper’s Inlet to the wedding of one of Emily’s young servers. They had of course asked Reagan to go, but she’d of course declined. Now she was sitting on the front porch, waiting for the timer to go off on the oven, alerting her that her frozen mushroom-spinach pizza was done. Dusk began to settle, and a breeze kicked up, stirring the muggy air.
    “Permission to approach,” Eric’s voice called out. “I don’t want to be kicked in the face or anything.”
    She should have known the quiet wouldn’t last long.
    Reagan shook her head. “Permission not granted—Eric!”
    Just as her body left the porch swing and air left her lungs, she found herself being slung over Eric’s shoulder. With a steel vise grip he clamped his arm over the back of her legs, the other hand firmly on her backside.
    “Malone, put me down! I’ve got a pizza in the oven!” She tried to thrash, but he had her in a pretty good hold. He abruptly turned, walked into the house and turned off the oven. The sound of a pan scraping metal sounded, and the oven door closed.
    “Mmm, this thing smells good. But I’ve got plans for you, Reagan Rose,” he said, then turned out of the house and began to jog down the steps.
    “Are you insane?” she ground out through her teeth. Not really as angry as she was letting herself sound. Why was that? “Where are you taking me?”
    With her body bouncing off his not-so-soft back,