Knox (Sexy Bastard #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

addresses Jackson printed out for us. “Copilot’s in charge of directions.”
    “At your service. Apparently.”
    Can’t say I don’t wish that were true. But Shelby’s here to help me with an above-the-board house hunt. A favor to her big brother.
    “Sorry about that,” I respond. “I tried to talk Jackson out of calling you, but he couldn’t be stopped.”
    “He’s got a bit of a savior complex,” Shelby mutters as she studies the printout. “But no worries, my house-hunting skills should come in handy. I helped my friend Tracy find a place just last month, so I’ve probably seen like half of these recently.”
    We drive away from Jackson’s, Atlanta’s downtown skyscrapers twinkling in the distance.
    For two people who have more practice between the sheets and over the couch than they do on solid ground, we’re not doing so great at making small talk. Every time I start to say something, it turns into an innuendo in my head, so I keep my mouth shut instead, not wanting her to know just how aware I am of every shift she makes in the seat beside me, her oh-so-professional work dress inching higher and higher up her shapely thighs as she squirms in the seat. Almost like she can’t stay still this close to me.
    I know the feeling.
    I force my eyes onto the road, tapping my fingers on the wheel as I drive. The temptation to pull over and pick up where we left off outside the Library is strong enough without a visual. And I already got an eyeful back at Jackson’s.
    But as I shift gears a moment later, my hand brushes against Shelby’s knee and I settle it on her thigh for a moment, unable to help myself. It’s like asking me to let someone walk halfway through pitching a perfect game. I can’t make myself do it—not touching her is killing me. Shelby takes an audible breath. Her move now.
    Guess we’re working different plays. She crosses her legs toward the car door, moving away from the palpable heat we’re creating.
    I jerk my hand away, back to the wheel, and it’s back to our awkward silence.
    We’re silent for a minute or two, and then Shelby clears her throat and turns to face me. “So uh,” she says haltingly, “how was your day?”
    I can’t help it. She sounds so nervous and weird that I bust out laughing. Then she’s laughing too, and we’re both wincing at each other. “Um, sorry,” I say when the hysteria finally dies out. “This not-touching thing is gonna take some getting used to.”
    “You can say that again,” she mutters.
    Time to man up and get your head out of the gutter, Knox. Be the gentleman. Stop pursuing her, for both your sake. “I’ll do my very best to stop throwing gopher balls in your direction, slugger,” I say.
    If that’s what we really want, I think.
    “Keep up the baseball metaphors,” she responds in a playful deadpan. “That’s definitely helping kill the flame.”
    I smirk. “I thought we agreed you were going to stop making fun of my sport.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were talking about a real sport, not tossing balls at sticks.”
    “If you think it’s so easy, let’s play a game sometime. See how well you do.”
    “I’d say yes just to watch your expression when I win, but last time we played games it wound up being a little too fun, if you know what I mean.” She catches my eye with a grin of her own, and I curse myself inwardly.
    Fuck. This is gonna be even harder than I thought.
    “Left here,” she says, taking pity on me.
    I force my poker face back on. “So. Apartments. This is the two-bedroom with a vegetable patch and an option for joining a co-op?”
    “Yes,” Shelby says. “Perfect for all of your homesteading needs.”
    “Hey, isn’t urban farming supposed to be all the rage?”
    Shelby laughs. “It really sounds right up your alley. No realtor, says we’re supposed to ring the doorbell for the ground-floor unit.”
    We pull up to a clapboard duplex that looks like it hasn’t seen a paint job in the