Dying to Please Read Online Free Page B

inwardly at her own silliness, but her heartbeat had started racing at the sight of him and was still tripping along at too fast a pace. Through whatever quirk of chemistry or biology, or maybe a combination of the two, she felt an instant physical attraction to him. It happened occasionally—this sudden little buzz that made her remember what made the world go 'round—though not for a while, and never before this strongly. She enjoyed the private thrill; it was like riding a roller coaster without having to leave the ground.
    She glanced at his left hand. It was bare, though that didn't necessarily mean he was single, or uninvolved. Men who looked like he did were seldom totally unattached. Not that he was handsome; his face was kind of rough, his beard was about eight hours past being a five-o'clock shadow, and his dark hair was too short. But he was one of those men who somehow seemed more
male
than the other men around him, almost as if he had testosterone oozing from his pores, and women definitely noticed that. Plus his body looked totally ripped; the jacket he wore over his black T-shirt disguised that somewhat, but she had grown up around men who made it a point to be in top physical condition, and she knew the way they moved and carried themselves. Unfortunately, he also looked as if his face would break if he smiled. She could appreciate his body, but from what she could see, his personality sucked.
    “What's your relationship with Judge Roberts?” he asked, his tone so neutral as to border on uninterested. He glanced up at her, his face delineated by harsh shadows that made it impossible to read his expression.
    “He's my employer.”
    “What do you do?”
    “I'm a butler.”
    “A butler.” He said it as if he'd never before heard the word.
    “I manage the household,” she explained.
    “And that involves . . . ?”
    “A lot, such as overseeing the rest of the staff; scheduling repairs and services; some cooking; making certain his clothes are clean and his shoes shined, his car serviced and washed regularly, bills are paid, and in general that he isn't bothered by anything that he doesn't want to bother him.”
    “Other staff?”
    “No one full-time. I count as staff the cleaning service, two women who come in twice a week; the gardener, who works three days a week; his office temp, who comes in once a week; and the cook—Monday through Friday, lunch and dinner.”
    “I see.” He consulted his notes, as if rechecking a detail. “Does being a butler also require you to study martial arts?”
    Ah. She wondered what had given her away. She had noticed, of course, that beautifully judged kick with which he had taken down the big burglar and known immediately that he did his own share of training.
    “No,” she said mildly.
    “It's an interest you pursue on your own time?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Can you be more specific?”
    “I'm also a trained bodyguard.” She kept her voice soft, so it wouldn't carry. “The Judge doesn't like it broadcast, but he's received some death threats in the past and his family insisted he have someone trained in personal security.”
    He had been totally professional before, but now he looked at her with frank interest, and a little surprise. “Have any of those threats been recent?”
    “No. I honestly don't think he's in active danger. I've been with him for almost three years, and in that time he hasn't received any new threats. But when he was on the bench, several people did threaten to kill him, and his daughter in particular was uneasy about his safety.”
    He glanced at his notes again. “So that wasn't exactly a lucky punch you threw, was it?”
    She smiled faintly. “I hope not. Just as your kick wasn't just luck.”
    “What discipline do you practice?”
    “Karate, mainly, to stay in shape.”
    “What degree?”
    “Brown.”
    He gave a brief nod. “Anything else? You said ‘mainly.'”
    “I do kick-boxing, too. How does this pertain to the