1 In For A Penny Read Free Page B

activity down there.
    When I saw an officer bag my golf ball, my heart skipped a beat. I pointed at the evidence bag. “My fingerprints are all over that golf ball. I didn’t kill Dudley. I just found him. Make sure they know that, Britt. My golf ball is not evidence.”
    “Take it easy, Cleo,” Britt said in a soothing voice. “You’ve had something of a shock here today. Should I call your mom to come when we finish up here?”
    That did it. I didn’t need anyone taking care of me. And I resented the fact that Britt thought I couldn’t handle this. The world was in perfect Technicolor again, so I assumed my equilibrium was back. I struggled to my feet. “I’m fine. This happens to me sometimes. It’s a blood pressure thing.”
    Rafe Golden gathered me up by my armpits and effortlessly lifted me to my feet. Horrors. I was wet all over, but wet arm pits implied that I didn’t recognize the importance of deodorant.
    Mine had obviously worn off and now my arm pit sweat was on the hands of the sexiest man in town. Well, at least now I wouldn’t have to worry about any date anxiety with this man. No way would he want to have anything to do with me after this.
    I studied Rafe out of the corner of my eye. Jonette was right about his being hot. His six-foot-tall athletic frame weighed something in the vicinity of one hundred eighty pounds. His thickly lashed bedroom eyes seemed to be riveted on me.
    Why now? Was he amused by my helplessness? Was he gathering information to entertain the guys around the clubhouse bar?
    “Dammit, Cleo, what went wrong in the car?” Britt asked. “Did Jonette tell you something about the murder that alarmed you?”
    I tried to shrug off Rafe’s grip around my torso, but I might as well have been back in Britt’s headlock. Typical male response. Whenever there was a problem, a man answered with his physical strength, while a woman used her head.
    It was about time I started using mine.
    From Britt’s question about Jonette, I surmised that she was already a suspect. It was time for me to do a little damage control for my best friend. “No. I already told you. She had to go to the bathroom. That’s why she was hollering. I was yelling because I didn’t want to throw up all over the car. There. Are you satisfied?”
    I was uncomfortably aware that Rafe’s fingertips were still under the minor swell of my size thirty-four b’s. If he had any thoughts of dating me, he would be checking out the merchandise. As it was, I wasn’t even sure he realized I was female.
    “Easy there, Red.”
    Rafe’s sexy growl brought to mind things best done on satin sheets. I shivered in response, then as his supple fingers tightened around my torso I had a rewarding feminine experience. All on my own.
    The unfamiliar thrill raced through my body at the speed of light and rendered me speechless. I savored the extrasensory burst of sensation like a dieter sneaking a forbidden slice of chocolate cake.
    If this man had this effect on all women, maybe the stories about him weren’t exaggerated. Maybe the word was out—why was I always the last to know these things—and the entire female contingent of the club had demands on his hands.
    I’d spoken to Rafe Golden probably a dozen or so times as I signed in for the Ladies League, and I’d never gotten so much as a hint of any unusual sensory powers. Now I was feeling like slipping him in my golf bag and taking him home with me. I already knew he had great hands. I glanced down and was thrilled to see his feet were larger than Charlie’s size tens.
    The old adage about the correlation between long fingers, big feet, and a certain male body part came to mind. In recent years, I had been paying more attention to those old sayings.
    Rafe Golden was looking better and better. But, there would be the problem of sharing him with the rest of the world. That wasn’t going to happen.
    I wasn’t about to be made a fool of twice. I’d just have to worship Rafe