Throwing Heat: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel Read Online Free PDF

like he hadn’t seen them before, but still. That had been an invitation.
    This wasn’t.
    “There’s so little of them that it must be a real waste of time to put them on. Really I’m just thinking about the economy of it all. For your sake.”
    Right. And she only drank wine for the antioxidants.
    “You’re such a giver, Peter. Always worried about the other person.”
    He flashed a wide smile at that. “It’s my curse.”
    They fell silent and she wasn’t sure what to do. Her whole plan for the next hour had been ruined. “Hey, why are you home now? Aren’t you supposed to be back in the morning?”
    Peter dumped his duffle on the floor and shrugged out of his leather jacket. The muscles in his shoulders rolled with the movement, but she pretended not to notice. Just like she pretended not to notice that he had some darn good chest muscles, too.
    “We got pushed to an earlier flight.”
    Trying not to feel crestfallen that her plans to veg alone were smashed, she yanked open the silverware drawer and grabbed a fork. Taking a big bite to stop her from saying something she shouldn’t, Leslie made a face. Cold chimichanga was really not good.
    Peter tipped his dark head to the side, his baby blues dancing. “You know I have a microwave, right?”
    Yeah, but it meant she had to walk directly in front of him in her underwear. Wasn’t going to happen. She was just going to put up with cold Mexican leftovers. “I’m good.” To illustrate her point she shoved another forkful into her mouth.
    Creases at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, making his blue eyes pop. Clearly the location of the microwave hadn’t been lost on him. The man loved to see her squirm.
    Like the bee sting she’d acquired in his backyard during a barbeque a few months back. While she’d been in extreme agony from the delicate location of the sting on her hoo-ha, he’d spent the entire time laughing like an idiot as he’d worked the stinger free.
    It was like he enjoyed seeing her suffer, the jerk.
    “The last time you told me that, you were three sheets to the wind and definitely not good.”
    Leslie dismissed the comment. “That was entirely different.”
    “Was it?” he asked as he began to walk toward her.
    She went stiff. “Yes, it was.” He had a way of moving that was sleek and stealthy like a panther. It made her nervous and edgy, especially since he was so stinking unpredictable. Just like the Colorado weather.
    He stopped directly in front of her, in worn jeans and a white T-shirt. The man loved his white t-shirts. This one had the vintage Rolling Stones logo on it with the big lips and stuck-out tongue from their Forty Licks album. Of course he would wear something crude and suggestive like that.
    It was always mildly disconcerting being so close to him. For one, he projected himself to be way taller than he really was. She was five-ten and he had maybe an inch on her. That put them eye-to-eye. And the expression in his face was always clever, watchful like a coyote’s. It could be way unnerving.
    For two, his energy was intense. And it wasn’t always controlled. There was a whole lot of Peter packed into one very fit, very hard package.
    An image of that night back in Miami flashed across her brain. She knew what it felt like to have that hard agile body on top of her. Unbidden, her gaze dropped from his black stubble to the flat planes of his abdomen. Before it could roam lower she yanked it back to his eyes and caught undisguised humor in the crystalline depths.
    “See anything you like?” He reached out a hand, scooped up a dollop of sour cream with a finger, and plopped it into his mouth.
    She jerked her box away. “Hey, that’s mine!”
    He sucked the condiment off and said around his finger, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that night in Miami a lot lately.”
    Suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Leslie retorted, “Why, are you having problems again?”
    Peter