Simple Gone South (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and smiling. Miss Mavis stepped up behind him and placed a red cloth napkin beside his hand.
    “One hour, no more. And if you get caught with it, I will swear you stole my keys.”
    Brantley unwrapped his little bundle to reveal an ornate dessert fork, rich with time and patina. He dipped right into the middle of the cake and pulled out a chunk. “Open up, Lucy Mead. I want you to eat enough cake to make you happy and give you the energy to dance with me.” And he brought the cake to her mouth.
    • • •
    Why, why, why had she agreed to let him drive her home? Was she crazy? A magic snatcher—that’s what he was. He dangled his magic in front of you and then snatched it away.
    And after the others had joined them, his magic had just gotten bigger, brighter, and more irresistible.
    She hated herself a little bit right now. She hadn’t intended to dance with him but after washing down the cake that he kept feeding her with bourbon, she had been powerless to stop him from pulling her into his arms when the band struck up “Tupelo Honey
.
” And there she was, moving in his arms, remembering the chemistry between them, smelling his shampoo, and listening to him sing softly into her ear. He didn’t even sing off key. Was there nothing he couldn’t do? It had been so long since they’d danced together that she’d almost forgotten how he made her a better dancer. And if she had almost forgotten it, he wouldn’t remember at all.
    Brantley turned the car toward the historic district and interrupted her thoughts. “I’m surprised you still live in Miss Annelle’s house.”
    “Why?” she asked. “I adore that house. When I first moved to Merritt from Atlanta I lived in the apartment above the shop but after we renovated it in the Art Deco style, my aunt loved it and we swapped. Aunt Annelle is somewhat of a minimalist.”
    Moving into that house had been so important to her. At first, she’d fought Annelle, not believing that her aunt really wanted to give up the beautiful Victorian cottage on one of the prettiest streets in Merritt. But once convinced that it truly was Annelle’s preference, Lucy was thrilled to have a home that wasn’t a modern high-rise Atlanta apartment or a house piled with artifacts and reference material.
    “I would have figured you for something more sleek and modern,” Brantley said and proved that he knew nothing about her. And she knew everything about him—every building he’d worked on, every vacation he took, every car he bought. Not that she went looking for it. That would be like scheduling a train wreck. But between Missy and being in the church Flower Guild with Miss Caroline, she was kept very much apprised of the doings of Brantley Kincaid.
    “No,” she said. “My specialty is historic interiors. That’s why I came back to work with Annelle. I was sick of designing hotels and she needed me. She can design anything, but her heart is in modern decor.”
    “Then why were you doing commercial design in the first place?”
    “Not everybody gets their dream job right away,” she said and could have added
even if you did.
    Cheap. She’d sold herself for a cake. Hell and double hell.
    “Here we are.” There was one good thing. It never took long to get anywhere in Merritt.
    “Thank you for the ride,” Lucy said but he didn’t hear her. He was already out of the vehicle, coming around to open her door. And now he had her by the arm and was towing her up the sidewalk. Was he going to try to kiss her? Well, she was not going to let that happen. She’d let it happen before and look where it got her. It was not going to happen again. And he definitely was not coming in the house—not for a drink, not to use the bathroom, and definitely not to touch and kiss her. Let him stop at a bar, pee in the bushes, and go to a brothel.
    But he didn’t try to come in or kiss her. What he did was worse. He took her key, unlocked the door, and said, “If you lived anywhere but