Free Here Comes Trouble by Donna Kauffman Page B

you banged your thumb with a hammer or something.”
    He lifted the staple gun. “No hammer. But I’m thinking of using this on something other than the screen here.”
    “Right, right. I got it. I’ll get her. Just…” She ran her gaze around the back porch to find something to put around the kitten so it wouldn’t transfer claws from Brett to her. Her stomach was stinging in sympathy just looking at how fiercely the kitten was digging in. She knew just how fierce a digger the kitten was.
    “No apologies needed. I was the one who turned my back on the little vampire. I should know better. She was sleeping mere seconds earlier, I swear.”
    Kirby slipped between the crouched pair and through to the back porch, where she grabbed the now completely gnarled and mangled cashmere sweater from the kitty fort and carefully worked the little mangler free from Brett’s T-shirt. And his skin. “Got her.”
    Brett straightened, which kind of trapped her between the screenless door and…well, him. “Thanks.”
    “Why don’t you let me get something to clean those scratches up? I know from experience they’re going to sting.” She inched out from the space between his chest and the door behind her, and went over to the kitty fort. “Did she escape from this?”
    He shook his head. “No, I figured as long as I was right at the door, I’d give her some room to play a little.” He lifted his hand. “I know, you don’t have to say it.”
    Kirby deposited the kitten back in its safe room, putting her down, sweater and all, before turning back to him. “I wasn’t going to say a word.”
    He gave her an amused “sure you weren’t” look, which made her bat her eyelashes all innocently. He shook his head, she smiled…and suddenly there was all that tension again. Just like that. The silence stretched and then expanded some more. And she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t imagining anything. Then he took a step toward her, and she was instantly rooted to the spot. Here it was. Her chance. No regrets this time. He was totally focused, intent…on her. The most tantalizing sort of awareness hummed over her skin and she prayed she didn’t do anything stupid to ruin the moment.
    It had been longer than she cared to think about since she’d last been kissed. Not that it would have mattered. Despite all of her personal mission statements where men were concerned…she’d never seduced, much less been seduced, by anyone like Brett. Casually or not.
    He moved closer, and she tried to look…what, casual? Ready? Turned on? Needy? She was afraid she was all of those, except that first one. Could he tell? Did it matter? She fervently hoped not. There wasn’t much she seemed to be able to do about it. As he closed the final bit of distance between them, she thought her heart might thump its way right out of her chest.
    Her lips parted on a soft sigh as her gaze dipped to his mouth and lingered there. That perfectly sculpted mouth, which was attached to a perfectly sculpted body. And it was going to be touching hers, tasting hers, in just a matter of seconds. She had to curl her fingers in to keep from grabbing him. Had to lock her knees to keep her thighs from shaking. Wanted, desperately, to press her hand over her stomach, to make sure she wasn’t going to be sick from the anticipation of it all. Because nothing says seduce me like puking on a guy’s feet. That would be sexy, huh?
    She really wished she could be a whole lot more The Graduate about this. But she was clearly no Mrs. Robinson, the experienced older woman, ready to school the younger man in the fine arts of seduction. But then, there was nothing remotely Dustin Hoffman–ish about Brett, either.
    He leaned his head down, she tipped up her chin, and at some point her eyes drifted shut. But the next thing she felt wasn’t his warm, oh so perfect mouth on hers…no, her lips were brushed with something that felt like—
    She blinked her eyes open as he finished