Free Pass Interference by Desiree Holt Page B

what it was.
    “Tyler?” he prodded when she still didn’t say anything. “I’m asking you again, what’s really going on here?”
    She wet her lips again. Immediately he had a vision of that same tongue licking his cock. He had to deliberately suppress the surge of hunger that raced through him. Jesus, Rafe. Get your shit together. But the damn sizzle between them seemed to be growing hotter and brighter. And though she hadn’t given any indication except that incendiary kiss, his gut told him she had the same reaction. Double damn.
    “Um, well…” She clutched that coffee mug as if it were a lifeline.
    Okay, there was definitely something going on here, besides unbridled lust on his part. Deliberately he yanked his eyes away from her nipples, now as big as gumdrops pressing against the flimsy fabric of her T-shirt. If he could just get his mouth around them—
    Shit. Damn. Fuck. And any other curse words he could think of.
    “Yes?” he urged again.
    “I’ve, uh, had some hang-up calls.”
    “Hang-up calls?” Not good. Not good at all. “When and how many?”
    She took a healthy swallow of her coffee, avoiding direct eye contact. “A bunch over the past couple of weeks.”
    He frowned. “What do you consider a bunch?”
    She nibbled her lower lip, her forehead creased in a slight frown. “Um, it’s not all that bad. I don’t think.”
    “Well?” he prompted. “I didn’t think the question was so hard.”
    Suddenly the words just tumbled out. “It started with just a couple of calls each day, then escalated to about four.”
    “A day?”
    Was she fucking kidding? Did she even realize she had a stalker? Anger surged through him with a violent force. It took a supreme effort of will to maintain his calm. “That many in just two weeks? Jesus, Tyler. Why didn’t you change your phone number?”
    “I did. Three times. Got the new one just today. And I only gave it to the people I really trust. I’m being very cautious about who gets it.”
    “Did that work?” He wanted to know. He didn’t like the sound of this.
    She brushed a few loose strands of hair from her forehead. “Sort of. I mean, no calls, but, uh…”
    “But uh what?” he prodded.
    “Tonight he sent me a text.”
    Rafe wanted to bite nails. It was like trying to pull a barnacle from a ship. “Did you ever get a text before?”
    She shook her head.
    “But you got one tonight. At your brand-new number.”
    She nodded silently.
    Rafe swallowed his irritation. This was like digging for worms. “How about you get the phone and show it to me.”
    She rose and headed toward the kitchen, Rafe right behind her. She picked up the phone from the counter and turned to hand it to him. He didn’t move, so her face landed smack against his hard chest. That elusive scent of wildflowers invaded his nostrils again, sending its tendrils straight to his cock.
    “Oh!” She peered up at him, startled.
    Think icicles. Ice cubes. Waist-deep in snow.
    When she looked up at him with those clear gray eyes and those pouty lips it was all he could do to keep from taking her mouth with a voracious, claiming kiss. Was it because of the situation or did she feel the same things he did? Nope, better not to ask.
    With a deliberate exertion of will, he stepped back and took the phone from her hand.
    “Pull up the text,” she told him, her voice unsteady.
    Grateful for the distraction, he hit the Messages app and the most recent one came up on the screen. That certainly killed any hint of lust. Rafe read it twice, forcibly tamping down the anger that surged inside him.
    “This is the first one you’ve gotten? The first text?”
    She nodded and stepped deliberately away from him. She dumped her cold coffee in the sink, then refilled the mug from the coffee machine. She probably wouldn’t drink this one, either, he figured, although the heat would do her system good.
    “Okay, this puts a whole new face on things.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “First, he