Free Traci On The Spot by Marie Ferrarella

hoping there was more—to placate herself and her still erratically fluttering pulse.
    “Is that your best defense, Counselor?”
    “That’s my best explanation,” he clarified. And then, because he believed in telling the truth, or at least some measure of it, he relented. “It’s either that, or call you a witch.”
    She didn’t knew whether to be annoyed or amused. “So this is my fault now, is it?”
    “Not so much a fault as-” He stopped as a thought struck him. “Do you kiss Donald this way?”
    “Daniel,” Traci corrected. Donald was the name of her cartoon suitor. Traci’s cartoon suitor, she amended, annoyed at herself for the slip. Annoyance shifted to a more likely target. “And that’s none of your business.”
    Maybe, but he thought it was. And he did have a point to make. “Okay, but if you do kiss him like that, and he’s still as bland as he sounds, I’d check the man for a pulse—or, barring that, antennae.”
    Now he had really lost her. “What?”
    Morgan hated admitting any more than he already had, but he supposed he had to. “Nothing human could have withstood that and not felt his socks getting short-circuited.”
    Indignation and confusion slowly slipped away, replaced with a glimmer of a satisfied smile. So he had felt something. Hopefully, more than she had, although she wasn’t certain how that was humanly possible. “Is that a compliment?”
    She looked like a cat that had fallen headfirst into a vat of cream. He refused to give her an ounce more. “That’s an observation.”
    She knew it was more than that, but for both their sakes she played along and nodded. A fresh crack of thunder and Jeremiah’s accompanying wail only served as a distant backdrop to the scenariogoing on before her. Her mouth still felt as if it was throbbing. And the rest of her was vibrating like a tuning fork.
    Traci knew she had to leave. Now, before something unforeseeable happened. Something she would undoubtedly live to regret.
    She nodded again, dumbly, like a windup toy with one trick. That Morgan had managed to disorient her to this extent really annoyed her. “I guess you’re not so bad yourself.”
    The cast-off comment had him smiling. If she admitted to smoke, there most certainly was fire. “Gosh, can you spare that?”
    Traci blew out a breath. It was still far too shaky for her liking. “Just barely. Well, like I said, I’d better be going.”
    She was backing up, away from Morgan. Away from what she’d just experienced, even though a very large part of her wanted to move forward, to explore this new, uncharted region a little more.
    Wanted to feel a little more.
    To feel more. Traci almost mocked herself. She’d been that route and knew the danger that laid therein. All sensation, no substance.
    But that had been Rory and this.
    This was Morgan, for heaven’s sake. She’s seen him naked, albeit years ago, but still, there was no mystery here—except, maybe, that she would have never dreamed in a million years…
    Nope, never.
    She groped for her purse. Time for Cinderella to rush home while she still had a pumpkin towork with. Traci clapped her hands and Jeremiah came at her call. She picked up his leash, wrapping it firmly around her hand. If nothing else, it served as insulation against Morgan.
    Only then did she look at him again. “It’s been an experience, Morgan. One we’ll have to do again—in about another nine or ten years. But right now, I have a storm to beat.” She found she had to force cheeriness into her voice.
    He didn’t want her leaving and he definitely didn’t like the idea of her leaving in this kind of weather. It was particularly nasty outside. “Ordinarily, I’d say my money was on you when it came to beating anything.” He glanced out the window. “But it looks pretty bad out there, Traci.”
    For some reason, she found the serious note in his voice unsettling. She liked it better when they were sparring. She felt equipped to handle