* * *
HARRY FELT strung too tight. It was absolute torture, sitting next to Charlie while knowing she was smugly plotting his salacious downfall. He could tell by the way her dark blue eyes slanted in his direction every so often, or the way she looked him over, as if sizing him up for a meal. It was possibly the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
He shouldn’t have shored up her confidence by admitting he found her sexy. But he couldn’t help himself. The second she started speaking of her past, she’d looked…uncertain, not her normal indomitable self. Her eyes, usually so forthright, had filled with reserve and he’d wanted nothing more than to reassure her.
Now she knew he was susceptible to her, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
He needed a distraction, but he was hesitant to pursue the topic of her father. Maybe after she considered things, she’d soften just a bit. She was bullheaded, but not cruel. He decided on the next order of business. “Are you at all nervous about seeing Ralph or Floyd again?”
She gave him a double take. “Nervous?”
“Yes. It would make sense, you know. Yesterday was fairly tempestuous, what with being kidnapped and held at gunpoint.”
Strangely enough, her expression softened. “We were shot at, too.”
“Yes.”
Suddenly she scooted closer and hugged herself up to his right arm. “Harry, I think it’s wonderful that you’re still determined to protect those old people despite being scared.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. As you said, yesterday wasn’t easy. It even rattled me a little.”
“Well, gee. That makes me feel so much better.”
She patted his shoulder. Then rubbed. Then squeezed. “You have very nice muscles, Harry.”
“Stop that!” Her voice had gone all throaty and warm. “Return to your own seat and put on your seat belt.”
“Sheesh. I was only trying to—”
“Comfort me? This may come as a shock to you, Charlie, but I wasn’t unduly upset by what happened. I was, in fact, mostly just concerned for you.”
“What? Now why would you be worried about me?”
“Why, indeed?”
Her lip curled and she gave him a look fraught with disgust. “Because I’m female?”
Hiding a smile, he added, “And small. It’s the truth, honey, you’re on the…short side.”
She stretched out her spine, managing to look an inch taller. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
Now she looked more inclined to punch him than kiss him. He felt relief—and other things he didn’t even want to ponder. “My wife was a small woman. Not as small as you, but still considered petite. She hated it that I chose to be a P.I. In fact, she flatly refused to have anything to do with it.”
“How could she be married to an investigator and not have anything to do with it?”
“Ah. Good question.”
“Oh, you’re divorced.” She winced. “Is that the reason you broke up? Just because of what you do?”
“I had other options. My father had recently passed away and he’d left me a small fortune, as well as the opportunity to get involved in his business ventures. But I had no interest in such things.” He lifted one brow. “She was adamant that I toe the line, that I give in to her will, but as it turns out… I didn’t. And she couldn’t stand it. She said my job was too dangerous, and if I didn’t give it up, she’d leave me.”
“And she did?”
He nodded. “Without much reluctance, but with a lot of dissension. She’s remarried now, very happily. And she controls her husband with a velvet glove.”
“I think your job could be exciting, although so far it’s been kind of dull.”
“Is that so?”
“And Harry? I don’t own any velvet gloves.”
He glanced at her, then grinned. “I wasn’t drawing a comparison, brat. Well, perhaps I was, in an obscure, peripheral manner. You may not own velvet gloves, but I’ll bet you own leather ones—maybe boxing gloves. Or possibly even brass knuckles?”
She blushed, giving herself away. “One of the men at the bar had a pair of those. I confiscated them when he kept causing trouble.”
Harry raised a brow, wondering exactly how she’d accomplished that. “You’re unlike her in many ways, Charlie. But you’re even more controlling.” It dawned on him that he could use this argument to turn her away from her seductive course. He truly had no intention of getting involved with any woman who wanted to call the shots.
“Harry, this may come as a shock, but I didn’t ask for your hand in marriage. I just want to try out this…um…”
Knowing Charlie and her penchant for boldness, he decided to help her out before she said something too descriptive, too luring, that would push him right over the edge. He cleared his throat and offered, “Chemistry?”
“Yeah!” She beamed at him. “This chemistry we have going. I like it. I’ve never felt it before.”
He gulped and almost swerved off the road. He shouldn’t ask, because the less he knew, the better, but he couldn’t seem to keep the words contained. He had to know. “Never, as in…?”
“As in never. The men I’ve known weren’t the type to inspire illusions of lust. It’s the truth, and I hope you won’t hold it against me, but I’m pretty much inexperienced in this kind of thing.”
He closed his eyes briefly, not enough to wreck his car, but enough to suffer a moment of silence. When he opened them again, he realized nothing had changed. He still could barely breathe. How did she keep doing this to him? “Charlie, when you say inexperienced, do you mean—”
“I’m almost a virgin.”
His head throbbed. “How does a woman remain almost a virgin?”
She shrugged. “Once when I was nineteen, I felt rebellious and gave in to this total dweeb who lived close to us. What a mistake that was! I ended up punching him in the nose he was so inept. I mean, I was a virgin then, and he was twenty-two years old, and supposedly experienced, but even I knew more than he did. And he was so obnoxious about it, blaming me.” She snorted in renewed righteous indignation over the slight.
“Good God.”
“Then, when I was twenty-three, I got engaged to a guy I thought was nice. And even though I didn’t really want him particularly bad, I figured I should know if we were compatible in bed or not before I shackled myself to him.”
“And?”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t marry him.” She shuddered in revulsion, then twisted in the seat to face Harry, full of confidences. In a stage whisper, she said, “He peeled off his clothes, and Harry, he had hickeys that I hadn’t given to him in the strangest damn places!”
Harry bit his lip.
“Ooh, it was disgusting.” Her voice lowered even more. “And his body wasn’t all that great, either. Nothing like yours. He didn’t have any hair at all on his chest. Slick as a baby’s bottom. Can you imagine?”
Harry, who had a nice covering of chest hair, sighed. Well, hell. “You know, you really could benefit from just a pinch of discretion.”