Close Quarters (22 page)

Everyone likes to be on THE NAUGHTY LIST now and again. Don't miss this sexy anthology featuring Donna Kauffman, Cynthia Eden and Susan Fox, coming next month. Here's a sneak peek of Donna's story, “Naughty but Nice.”

G
riff's train of thought was abruptly broken by a loud yelp coming from somewhere in the rear of the small shop, followed by a ringing crash of what sounded like metal on metal.

He gritted his teeth against the renewed ringing inside his own head, even as he called out in the ensuing silence. “Hullo? Are you in need of some assistance?”

What followed was a stream of very…colorful language that surprised a quick smile from him. He'd found Americans, at least the ones of his immediate acquaintance, to be a bit obsessed with political correctness, always worrying what others might think. So it was somewhat refreshing, to hear such an…uncensored reaction. He assumed the string of epithets wasn't a response to his query, but then he'd never met the proprietor.

He debated heading around the counter to see if, in fact, she might need help, then checked the action. “No need to engage an angry female unless absolutely required,” he murmured, then tipped up onto his toes and looked behind the counter, on the off chance he might spy the pot of coffee. “Ah,” he said, upon seing a double burner positioned beside an empty, tiered glass case.

He fished out his wallet and put a ten note on the counter, more than enough to cover the cost of a single cup, then ducked under the counter and scanned the surface for a stack of insulated cups. Oversized, sky blue mugs with the shop's white and pink cupcake logo printed on one side and the name on the other, were lined up next to the machine. He didn't think she'd take too kindly to him leaving with one of those.

“Making an angry female even angrier…never a good thing.” His mouth quirked again as a few more, rather unique invectives floated from the back of the shop. “Points for creativity, however.”

He glanced at his watch, saw he still had some time, and took a moment to roll his neck, shake out his shoulders, and relax his jaw. He could feel the tension tightening him up, which, if he were honest, was a fairly common state of late. But then, he'd never been so close to realizing his every dream. And he'd certainly never thought it would come about like this. He fished out the small airline-sized tube of pain relievers he'd bought when he'd landed, but upon popping it open, discovered there was only one tablet left. He shrugged and dry swallowed it. Couldn't hurt.

He crouched down to look under the counter and had just opened a pair of cupboard doors when he felt a presence behind him.

“May I help you with something?”

Hmm. Angry female, due immediately south of his wide open back. And he was fairly certain there were sharp knives in reach. Not the best strategy he'd ever employed.

Already damned, he reached inside the cupboard and slid a large insulated cup from the stack, snagging a plastic lid as well, before gently closing the doors and straightening to a stand. “Just looking for a cup,” he said as he turned, a careful smile on his face.

The smile froze as he got his first look at the cupcake baker.

He wasn't normally taken to poetic thought, but there he stood, thinking her clear, almost luminescent skin made her wide, dark blue eyes look like twin pools of endlessly deep, midnight waters…and her ensuing gaze that much more probing. In fact, it was surprisingly difficult to keep from looking away, every self-protective instinct he had being triggered by her steady hold on his gaze. Which was rather odd. She was the village baker. And despite the tirade he'd just overheard, he doubted anyone who made baking cheerful little cakes her life's work would be a threat or obstacle to his mission here. “I hope you don't mind,” he said, lifting the cup so she could see what he'd been about. “You sounded a bit…occupied, back there.”

“Yes, a little problem with a collapsed rolling rack.”

His gaze, held captive as it was, used the time to quickly take in the rest of her. Thick, curling hair almost the exact same rich brown as the steaming hot brew he'd yet to sip, had been pulled up in an untidy knot on the back of her head, exposing a slender length of neck, and accentuating her delicate chin. All of which combined to showcase a pair of unpainted, full, dark pink lips that, even when not smiling, curved oh-so-naturally into the kind of perfect bow that all but begged a man to part them, taste them, bite them, and…

Now he did look away. Damn. He couldn't recall his body ever leaping to attention like that, after a single look. No matter how direct. Especially when his attentions were clearly not being encouraged in any way, if the firm set of that delicate chin was any indication.

“Nothing too serious I hope,” he said, boldly turning his back to her and helping himself to a cup of coffee. After all, he'd paid for it. Not that she was aware of that as yet. But he thought it better to risk her mild displeasure until he could point that out…rather than engage more of the fury he'd heard coming from the back of the shop minutes ago. Which he was fairly certain would be the case if her sharp gaze took in the current state of the front of his trousers.

“Nothing another five hours of baking time won't resolve,” she said, a bit of weariness creeping into her tone. From the corner of his eye, he caught her wiping her hands on the flour covered front of her starched white baker's jacket. “Please, allow me.”

He quickly topped off the cup and snapped on the lid. “Not to worry. I believe I've got it. I left a ten note on your counter.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, sounding sincere now. “It's been…a morning. I'm generally not so—”

“It's fine,” he said, intending to skirt past her and duck back to the relative safety of the other side of the counter. The tall, trouser-concealing counter. He just needed a moment, preferably with her not in touching distance, so he could button his coat and allow himself a bit of recovery time. It seemed all he had to do was look at her for his current state to remain…elevated.

Very unfortunately for him, and the comfort level of his trousers, she moved closer and reached past him. “The sugar is here and I have fresh cream in the—”

“I take it black,” he said abruptly, then they both turned the same way, which had the continued misfortune of trapping her between the counter…and him.

Her gaze honed in on his once again, only this time he felt like he was the one holding hers captive.

“Okay,” she said, her voice no longer strident. In fact, the single word had been a wee bit…breathy.

“Indeed,” he murmured, once again caught up in that mouth of hers. Those parted lips simply demanded a man pay them far more focused attention.
Step away, Gallagher
, he counseled himself.
Sip your coffee, gather your wits, and move on.