What a Man's Gotta Do Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t take her up on her offer. Except one.
    â€œI bet it’s decaf.”
    â€œI bet you’re wrong.”
    â€œThen I guess I don’t mind if I do. Black, please.”
    â€œGotcha. Be right back.”
    She straightened up the crooked rug with the heel of one foot before she went, though.
    Other than the muted sound of some TV drama coming from what he assumed was the living room, the house was astonishingly quiet. And on top of the coffee aroma lay a mixture of other scents, of clean laundry and recent baths and woodsmoke. Like what most people meant when they said, “Home.”
    He grunted, looked around. He’d been in enough hacked-up houses to guess the layout of this one, although this seemed nicer than most. An office, looked like, in what had been the original front parlor to the right; through the wide doorway off to the left, he caught a glimpse of sand-colored wall-to-wall carpet, beige-and-blue plaid upholstered furniture, a warm-toned spinet piano, a brick fireplace, more pictures, more kid stuff. The kitchen would be out in back, most likely an eat-in, and there were probably some add-ons, too, maybe a couple of extra bedrooms or something.
    â€œHere you go.” Mala came down the hall, handed him a flowery but sturdy mug of coffee, then plucked a heavy sweater off the coatrack and slipped it on, all the while watching him, her expression still guarded. Waiting for a reaction, he realized, even if she didn’t know that’s what she was doing. He took a sip, nodded in approval. Relief flooded her features; a stab of irritation shunted through him, that she should care that much what some stranger thought about her coffee.
    â€œIt’s real good,” he said.
    â€œMy mother taught me, when I was still little.”
    Eddie lifted the mug in salute. “But you made it.”
    A smile flashed across her mouth, followed by a low chuckle. “You can really lay it on thick, can’t you?”
    He angled his head at her. “I’m no better at flattering than I am at conversation, Mala. The coffee’s good. So just deal with it.”
    She blushed, nodded, then slid her feet into a pair of wooden clogs by the door. “The entrance is in the back,” she said,yanking open the front door. When he glanced at the stairs right there in the hallway, she simply said, “Blocked off,” and left it at that.
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    And here Mala had thought she was immune to things like slow, sexy smiles and the pungent, spicy scent of fresh-out-of-the-cold males.
    Not to mention the sight of soft, worn jeans molding to hard, lean thighs.
    Ai-yi-yi.
    The thin crust of snow crunched underfoot as she led Eddie wordlessly around to the side, then up the wooden stairs leading to the apartment.
    The key stuck.
    â€œIt does that when it’s humid,” she said under her breath, wondering, just as the damn lock finally gave way and the door wratched open, why every other sentence out of her mouth these days seemed to be an apology. She flicked on the living room’s overhead light, stepping well out of the range of Eddie’s pheromones as he followed her inside. She cringed at the faint tang of old pizza and stale beer still hovering in the air, even though she’d cleaned up the worst of the mess more than a week ago.
    â€œIf the lock gets to be too much of a hassle,” she said, “let me know. I’ll change it out.”
    His face remained expressionless as he took in the room. She clutched the coffee mug to her chest, hoping the warmth would dissolve the strange knot that had suddenly taken root smack in the center of her rib cage. Her nerves lurched, sending her heart rate into overdrive. “Like I said, it’s not the Hilton.”
    To say the least. Bare, white walls which needed another coat of paint, she noted. Beige industrial grade carpet. Ivory JCPenney drapes over the two large