To the Limit Read Online Free
"What? No, 'Hi, how are ya? How's the world been treating you after all these years?'" And still no explanation?
She heaved a weary sigh. "Hi. How are ya? How's the world been treating you? Gosh, I'd love to hear all about it, but at this very moment, I'm a little busy here." She turned back to the file cabinet and started rifling through the folders. "And I'm a little pressed for time."
"I can see that. Ready to tell me why?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. He lifted a brow, gave a confidence-inspiring smile, and got another one of those stone-cold glares for his efforts.
"So I should take that as a no?"
"You're in my way, McClain. Now in case you missed it, that was your cue to belly crawl on back into whatever hole you slithered out of."
He scratched his head, took his sweet time following the lines of her slim legs and hips, the lush fullness of her breasts, all packed into a skin-tight black bodysuit. He'd never forgotten sweet Eve. She was sending some pretty clear signals that she hadn't forgotten, either. Or forgiven.
"After all these years? You don't really still hold a grudge, do you?"
From any other woman, the sound she made would have been indelicate. From Eve, it was just plain sexy. "Don't flatter yourself."
Pissed. The lady was still pissed all right. Interesting. "OK. So you do hold a grudge. Shucks and golly. Didn't know it meant that much to you."
OK, that was a lie. She'd been a virgin. And so hot and sweet he'd damn near made the mistake of keeping his promise and calling her the next day. The fact that he'd even considered it had scared the shit out of him. He'd had an agenda back then that hadn't included a dewy-eyed, recently sullied virgin expecting things from him—like endless love and commitment. He'd had things to do. People to see. His life to fuck up.
Her shoulders were as stiff as a Kevlar vest as she very slowly turned away from the cabinet to face him again. Big surprise. She looked as annoyed as hell to see him still standing there.
"You could take advantage of me, you know," he suggested. "Tell me what you're looking for. Use me to help you out."
With one long look, she told him what a novel idea that would be. Her using him.
Right. So he'd told her he loved her that night. It wasn't the first time the line had worked on a woman. And it wasn't the last. He'd been a real shit, a first-class ass. And proud of it. Then. She didn't have a reason in the world to think he'd changed. If you asked his ex, she'd tell you he hadn't. But still, it had been a long time ago.
The sound of footsteps stopping outside the door had them both whipping their heads in that direction.
Heavy knuckles rapped twice. "The hundred bought you fifteen minutes, Mrs. Leoni. You've got five left; then I gotta have you outta there."
"Mrs. Leoni?" Mac whispered with an arch of his brow as whoever had delivered the message clomped away. "You schmoozed your way in here playing the woman scorned?" He grinned. "Cool."
And then a marginally disturbing thought occurred to him. "Or are you a Mrs. Leoni?"
In answer, she turned back to the file cabinet, started on the second drawer. Even in the semidarkness, he could see how fine she looked. Fine bones. Fine blond hair. Fine, fine breasts. But then she'd always had those. And now they just might belong to Mr. Leoni.
Well, hell. Some guys had all the luck.
"So," he said, trying another tack, "what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Nothing.
He was getting nowhere... unless. He considered her through narrowed eyes and decided to take a shot in the dark. Hell. Why not? He didn't much believe in coincidence so it was a stretch to believe that it was merely chance that he'd run into pretty Eve in the exact same spot where he was looking for his client.
"Your being here wouldn't have anything to do with Tiffany Clayborne, would it?" he asked, just
She heaved a weary sigh. "Hi. How are ya? How's the world been treating you? Gosh, I'd love to hear all about it, but at this very moment, I'm a little busy here." She turned back to the file cabinet and started rifling through the folders. "And I'm a little pressed for time."
"I can see that. Ready to tell me why?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. He lifted a brow, gave a confidence-inspiring smile, and got another one of those stone-cold glares for his efforts.
"So I should take that as a no?"
"You're in my way, McClain. Now in case you missed it, that was your cue to belly crawl on back into whatever hole you slithered out of."
He scratched his head, took his sweet time following the lines of her slim legs and hips, the lush fullness of her breasts, all packed into a skin-tight black bodysuit. He'd never forgotten sweet Eve. She was sending some pretty clear signals that she hadn't forgotten, either. Or forgiven.
"After all these years? You don't really still hold a grudge, do you?"
From any other woman, the sound she made would have been indelicate. From Eve, it was just plain sexy. "Don't flatter yourself."
Pissed. The lady was still pissed all right. Interesting. "OK. So you do hold a grudge. Shucks and golly. Didn't know it meant that much to you."
OK, that was a lie. She'd been a virgin. And so hot and sweet he'd damn near made the mistake of keeping his promise and calling her the next day. The fact that he'd even considered it had scared the shit out of him. He'd had an agenda back then that hadn't included a dewy-eyed, recently sullied virgin expecting things from him—like endless love and commitment. He'd had things to do. People to see. His life to fuck up.
Her shoulders were as stiff as a Kevlar vest as she very slowly turned away from the cabinet to face him again. Big surprise. She looked as annoyed as hell to see him still standing there.
"You could take advantage of me, you know," he suggested. "Tell me what you're looking for. Use me to help you out."
With one long look, she told him what a novel idea that would be. Her using him.
Right. So he'd told her he loved her that night. It wasn't the first time the line had worked on a woman. And it wasn't the last. He'd been a real shit, a first-class ass. And proud of it. Then. She didn't have a reason in the world to think he'd changed. If you asked his ex, she'd tell you he hadn't. But still, it had been a long time ago.
The sound of footsteps stopping outside the door had them both whipping their heads in that direction.
Heavy knuckles rapped twice. "The hundred bought you fifteen minutes, Mrs. Leoni. You've got five left; then I gotta have you outta there."
"Mrs. Leoni?" Mac whispered with an arch of his brow as whoever had delivered the message clomped away. "You schmoozed your way in here playing the woman scorned?" He grinned. "Cool."
And then a marginally disturbing thought occurred to him. "Or are you a Mrs. Leoni?"
In answer, she turned back to the file cabinet, started on the second drawer. Even in the semidarkness, he could see how fine she looked. Fine bones. Fine blond hair. Fine, fine breasts. But then she'd always had those. And now they just might belong to Mr. Leoni.
Well, hell. Some guys had all the luck.
"So," he said, trying another tack, "what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Nothing.
He was getting nowhere... unless. He considered her through narrowed eyes and decided to take a shot in the dark. Hell. Why not? He didn't much believe in coincidence so it was a stretch to believe that it was merely chance that he'd run into pretty Eve in the exact same spot where he was looking for his client.
"Your being here wouldn't have anything to do with Tiffany Clayborne, would it?" he asked, just
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