Manhunting in Mississippi Read Online Free PDF

heavily on his arm.
    “I should have let you keep the parking spot,” she murmured, stil a little fuzzy, and very, very wet. Water streamed off her clothes, which were seemingly vacuum-packed to her backside.
    “Do you feel wel enough to walk?” he asked, his breath fanning her face as they huddled under the umbrel a.
    Piper conjured up a smirk. “What are my options?”
    “I could carry you,” he said simply, one side of his mouth drawing up into a lopsided smile.
    Her heart lodged near her throat at the prospect and time stood stil for an instant. His gaze locked with hers and Piper swal owed painful y. They might have been captured in their own little snow globe, separated from the rest of the world by some transparent barrier. Rain drummed on the umbrel a and water ran around their feet. Piper’s tongue felt thick, but she wasn’t sure if it was swol en from biting herself or if she’d suffered brain damage from the combined knocks to her head.
    “N-no,” she stammered. She would already be the laughingstock when she walked into her office—she’d never live it down if she arrived high in the arms of a stranger. “I’l
    walk.”
    “That might be difficult.” He shifted and fighting a smile, he held up the heel to one of her pumps.
    Her heart sank. “I’l crawl,” she amended.
    “Come on,” he urged, turning her toward the building. “I owe you one.”
    “You certainly do,” Piper said briskly, but his throaty chuckle relaxed her slightly. He bore more of her weight than she did as they made their way across the short walkway and up a sweeping set of limestone steps. Piper’s vital signs went haywire and she fluctuated between wanting the encounter to end and wishing for another lap around the grounds on the arm of this man.
    His driving skil s aside, this was a man worth hunting. Tal , solidly built from what she could see, nice dresser. Piper frowned. He obviously was not from Mudvil e—hmm, that could be a problem. Stil , she was thril ed that she’d managed to stumble over such a prize specimen so early in her hunt. Phrases from her grandmother’s guide popped into her head and she searched for something bril iant to say that would erase the impression she’d given him.
    But her romantic musings came to a screeching halt when she glanced down at his left hand. Winking back at her, mocking her from his third finger was a very gold, very
    sparkly, very substantial-looking wedding band.
    Her quarry had been bagged by someone else.
    Piper suddenly felt cold, wet and miserable. Even if she did need the practice, she wasn’t inclined to waste her fledgling feminine wiles on a married man. She set down her
    foot wearing the good shoe on the top step, then felt the rain-soaked heel snap off. The pain in her ankle surpassed any of the injuries she’d received in the last fifteen minutes. She howled, her dignity long gone.
    Ian felt his clumsy companion lurch sideways, and bent his knees to accommodate her weight, such as it was. His flash of irritation was replaced by concern at her high-pitched yelp. At least they had progressed to an overhang, so he abandoned the umbrel a to clasp her other arm.
    “My ankle, my ankle, ow, ow, ow,” she whimpered, holding her right foot off the ground. With the white plastic bag tied around her head, her shimmering eyes and her drenched, dripping clothes, she looked pitiful.
    “Hold stil ,” he said, bending to lift her into his arms.
    “No,” she protested, pushing at his chest with laughably tiny hands.
    “Hold stil ,” he insisted, swinging her up, “before you break your little neck.” She gasped with indignation. Ian pressed his lips together and stared straight ahead. He concentrated on the few remaining steps into the building to keep his mind off the fact that his hands were ful of very attractive woman. The “little” had just popped out. Petite and elflike, she could be anywhere between her early twenties and mid-thirties. But she had a