Hurts So Good Read Online Free PDF Page B

feet.
    Frantically, she began spraying. "Oh, these horrible creatures. I can't stand them. Get away, you nasty things! Take that! And that! And—"
    Suddenly, she was staring at Neil's shoe. With a quick stomp he smashed two more roaches that were scrambling around.
    He snatched the can away, threw it to the floor, and wrenched her from her knees. He held her arms so tight and the face she looked up to held such a fierceness, she wondered for a wild, horrible moment if he meant to start shaking her.
    "I've got two things to say to you. First, you explain that snoopy question about my recording career. Why do you want to know?"
    "Be-because—" Damn, dammitall to hell. Her teeth were chattering, and she couldn't make them stop. "Because I'm an old fan, that's why. A girl who grew up on your music and never forgave you for stopping. No one ever knew exactly what your background was, since your stories were always conflicting, but—but I told myself you made things up because maybe you were an orphan like me who wanted to reinvent your past. You made it big, and whenever I looked at your picture, I believed I could do it, too, that nothing could stop me."
    "I didn't even sign the friggin' picture. You hear me? Some jerk I never met did all the signing, sent all that promo crap to poor little orphan girls who polished floors and sent their money to the greedy recording machine that almost ate me up before it spit me out."
    Andrea commanded herself not to cower or run as he cursed vilely between harsh, ragged breaths.
    But then she felt his hand, his large, warm hand, stroke softly through her hair while his other swept to her back.
    He drew her against him, and it was such a desperate, needy embrace, she felt her fear change to an unknown emotion that pierced her chest. She felt quick kisses pressed to her forehead, her temple, heard his hoarse murmurs of apology for not signing the damn picture he'd always hated. Until he stilled and gently cupped her face.
    "Andrea, chere, go home," he pleaded. His eyes refuted his words. "You're courtin' trouble if you stay here. I'm the trouble, and you won't be safe in the same city as me. I feel something for you, and that's risky—for us both." He released her and pulled out a folded stack of bills that he slapped into her palm, then flattened her fingers over. "Take this and buy a ticket on the next plane out to wherever you want to call home. Find a decent place to live. And don't come back. Keep your distance from me, and keep it good."

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    Andrea stared at the most money she'd ever seen in her life and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her back still tingled where he'd touched and where his lips had brushed—she felt as if she'd been kissed by an angel. He claimed to be the Devil's own, and yet he'd sought to protect her from himself.
    She could leave, shake the New Orleans dust and Neil Grey from feet that were tired of ceaseless wandering. With no roots—no longed-for roots—she had no reason to stay.
    And if she stayed? She'd get more than the story she'd come for. She'd be plunged even deeper into an array of emotions and excitement that felt forbidden, thrilling. A rush.
    A dangerous rush skating the edge of darkness.
    "Keep your money, Slick. I'm not keeping my distance." As if the cash were something foul, she crammed it back into his pants pocket, her fingertips wedging between smooth fabric and the pelvis beneath it.
    "In that case... "He locked her hand where it was before she could pull away. "I'm giving you a final warning: You're stuck with your decision—a very foolish decision at that. We're gonna take each other on, chere. Should be interesting to find out if either of us leaves in one piece. Does that give you a fair idea of what you've gotten yourself into?"
    She had difficulty swallowing, her throat was so dry. What had she gotten herself into? Probably more than a prudent woman would have bitten off. But she had and