Stand By Your Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

The suggestive gleam in his eyes hinted that he’d like to taste her.
    Wishing she’d learned how to flirt, she didn’t know how to respond except to take his words at face value. “So do I. That’s one of the things I miss about a big city. We don’t have a Thai restaurant here. Japanese, Chinese, and Indian, but that’s about it.” Great. Now she was babbling.
    For a moment she imagined herself visiting Vancouver one weekend, dining at a Thai restaurant with Jamal. Dating. But even if the sex was stupendous, could a relationship lead anywhere? He was a city guy and she really did love the country. Besides, would a man who enjoyed undercover work even imagine marrying and having kids?
    â€œHow about you?” She tried to sound casual. “Do you see marriage and kids in your future?”
    The question had him sitting back giving a quick shrug. “Never have.”
    â€œI kind of guessed that.” She had a swallow of beer and noticed that he’d finished his juice. “Want another glass of juice? Or a beer? I’ve got vodka, tonic, Coke. I could make coffee or tea.”
    He swung to his feet. “I’ll go look. Want another beer while I’m up?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I’m still working on this one.” She watched him saunter toward the kitchen. Broad shoulders, back muscles rippling under his tee, great butt. Strong, powerful, but graceful too. Like an athlete. Unselfconscious about it.
    She sighed. The one man who appeared to like her for who she was, who understood about her job, and who was totally hot in every way—and of course he wanted a different kind of future. Fine. It was what it was, and she was practical. She had two options, assuming she’d read that gleam in his eyes correctly. First, she could have a one-nighter. Tempting . . . Still, she’d never done that kind of thing. No matter how orgasmic the sex might be, would she feel happy about herself in the morning?
    Another sigh, full of regret, as she faced reality. Nope, she wasn’t the “casual sex” kind of woman.
    Second option: enjoy some time together as colleagues and friends, and then say good-bye. Would she have regrets in the morning? Yes, of the superficial kind that would have her reaching for her vibrator, but not of the deep-down kind that tarnished her self-respect.
    Okay, decision made. Pressure off. A colleague and friend. Just like Jake Brannon. Karen stretched back and lifted her bare feet to the lightly scarred wooden coffee table that had come with the rental unit.
    Jamal returned, carrying a tall glass holding something that looked like orange juice and tonic. He seated himself beside her, glanced at her stretched-out legs, then raised his own feet to rest on the coffee table.
    She stared at his strong, brown, very masculine feet. Tracked up the long stretch of faded denim and noted the way his firm thighs pressed against the worn fabric. Skimmed longingly over the strategically faded fly.
    A hungry pulse throbbed between her legs.
    Okay, he wasn’t just like Jake. What a funny thing attraction was, that she could look at two stunning guys and feel nothing but respect and friendship for one, yet be totally in lust with the other.
    â€œTell me more about your family,” Jamal said. “You guys still close?” There was something in his voice she couldn’t define, perhaps envy or wistfulness. Was he not close to his own family? Later, she’d find out. For now, she’d happily talk about her parents and brother.
    â€œYes, we’re very close. You know, my mom never expected to become a wife and mother. In her twenties, she was really into her work as an environmental activist. That was the 1970s. She traveled, protested, went out on boats to stop whalers, hugged trees to block clear-cut logging. Got arrested more than once. The causes were more important than her personal life. And then she met Dad.”
    â€œThe