McIver's Mission Read Online Free Page A

cushions. "I don't need
anyone to take care of me, McIver."
    "Did I suggest you did?"
    "No, but I think your sudden offer of friendship
was inspired by the fact that I cried on your shoulder. Believe me, it was a
one-time thing."
    "That's too bad," he said. "I thought
it was a pretty good excuse to hold you in my arms."
    "I wouldn't think you needed any kind of excuse
to hold a woman. Aren't they lining up for the privilege?"
    Shaun grinned. "I wasn't talking about any woman, I was talking about you. You fit in my arms, Doherty."
    She rolled her eyes.
    "I noticed it before, when we danced at Colin and
Nikki's wedding."
    Arden
didn't want to be reminded of the dance they'd shared. Of the way their bodies
had melded together, like two pieces of a puzzle. It had made her wonder if
they would mesh so perfectly if they were horizontal.
    "Anything you want to share?" Shaun sounded
amused.
    "No," she snapped, conscious of the flush in
her cheeks.
    "I've never seen you blush, Doherty. It's …
endearing."
    "I don't blush."
    "Yeah." He stroked a finger down the curve
of her cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. "You do."
    She pulled back, stood up. "Do you want more
coffee?"
    His smile was lazy, satisfied. "Sure."
    Arden
retreated to the kitchen, chastising her overactive hormones. All he'd done was
touch her, and her skin had burned. She took several deep breaths before
returning to the living room with the pot of coffee. She refilled his mug,
conscious of his gaze following her even though she avoided looking at him. She
wasn't sure she understood what was going on here, what the undercurrents were
about. She was probably experiencing some kind of emotional meltdown—a normal
reaction after the kind of day she'd had.
    Somewhat reassured, she returned to her seat on the
sofa.
    "What's in all the boxes?" Shaun asked,
gesturing to the stack against the dining room wall.
    "Books."
    "What kind of books?"
    "Textbooks, case law."
    "Why aren't they unpacked?"
    "I don't have any shelves."
    He looked around, visually confirming her statement.
"I could build some for you."
    She frowned. "Why?"
    "I like to work with my hands," he said.
    The innocent comment brought to mind erotic images of
things she'd like him to do with those hands, and building shelves wasn't in
the top ten. "I'm sure you have better things to do with your time,"
she said, sounding just a little breathless.
    "Not really. And it would give us a chance to get
to know each other better."
    "Why?" she asked again.
    "Why not? We're friends, aren't we?"
    "I guess so," she agreed, not completely
convinced.
    "I built the shelves in Nikki's den," he
told her. "In case you have doubts about my abilities."
    No,
Arden
had no such doubts. "Fine, you can build shelves for me if you want
to."
    "Great. I'll come by tomorrow to take some
measurements. Think about what kind of wood you'd like."
    As if she would know the difference between maple and
mahogany. She smiled. "All right."
    "You have a beautiful smile, Doherty."
    Arden
tried to shift away from him, but her hip was already against the arm of the
sofa. "Thank you."
    "Why does that make you uncomfortable?" he
asked.
    She didn't bother to deny it. She'd always felt that
too much importance was placed on appearance, and she knew she hadn't done
anything to earn her looks. The flawless skin, the silky hair, the dark,
almond-shaped eyes were a result of genetic makeup. She looked like her mother,
and she'd never been particularly proud of that fact. Every time she looked in
the mirror she was reminded of the woman who'd given birth to her, and who had
abandoned her. "Looks are superficial," she said. "They
shouldn't matter."
    He seemed to consider her statement, then nodded.
"You also have a beautiful heart."
    His words caused an unfamiliar warmth to expand inside
her. Uncomfortable with the feeling, she set her mug on the coffee table.
"It's getting late, Shaun."
    "You're trying to get rid of me again."
    "Yes."
    "That's not a