Charlie's Angel Read Free

lips. “I’ll get you something cool to drink.”
    Yeah, the heat, not of the weather but in his groin. Gracefully, she spun around and left him behind in a curtain of fragrant perfume. Gardenias, he suspected, which were addling his brain and turning the gray matter into mush.
    If the view from in front had been tempting, then the backside was more powerful. Roxie’s waist was tiny and curved, and the uniform deliciously hugged her bottom as he longed to do.
    When she was out of sight behind the double swinging doors that led to the kitchen, he tried to take a deep breath to bring himself under control. His forehead was bathed in perspiration. He lifted his handkerchief from his hip pocket and, ineffectively, wiped at his head but to no avail. As soon as the linen passed over his skin, he immediately began to sweat again. He had to leave. Before he made a fool of himself.
    But he waited, and he had no idea for what. Carelessly, he stuffed his hanky back in its place, realizing belatedly that Roxie had been incongruously holding a carafe filled with steaming coffee along with her order pad.
    His heart thudded against his chest. He didn’t dare get up since his mega hard-on would be visible to everyone in the diner. Hadn’t he come for an all-American burger and fries? Why did he think he was about to get a whole lot more?
    * * * *
    Roxie swallowed down her panic as she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one observing the ultra-sexy man in the tailored suit. Verna and Eileen, her co-workers, were each wide-eyed and their faces were flushed.
    “Do you know who that is?” Gerry asked in his booming voice, giving Roxie a quizzical expression.
    Roxie shook her head. All she knew was she wouldn’t have to go searching for Mr. Mercedes. He’d come to her instead. Her heart thudded in her chest with uneasiness. Did he know who she was? He couldn’t. She’d been covered from head to foot, so it would have been impossible for him to recognize her.
    “He’s Charles Vernon, one of the sharpest lawyers in the States,” Gerry told her excitedly. “He’s Boston born and bred.”
    “And he’s supposed to be worth millions,” Verna added, tugging at her apron.
    “Oooh and isn’t he sexy?” Eileen put in, her eyes in a stout face going all unfocused and dreamy.
    Roxie swallowed, and in as level a voice as she could manage, said, “I didn’t know,” as she poured iced tea into a tall, frosted glass.
    The devil came in all different disguises, and Charles Vernon was two of them. He was rich like her father, and that gave her cause for concern. Desperately, she tried to remember if the Harrier and Vernon families traveled in the same social circles, but nothing came to mind.
    To make matters worse, her body had responded unequivocally to the masculinity of the man seated in the booth. The crotch of her panties was damp. It had been all she could do to stay motionless waiting for him to either place his order or tell her he hadn’t made up his mind yet. His assessing gaze as his smoldering gray eyes had languidly journeyed up her bosom and to her face had aroused her and bothered her in a very sexual way. Her breasts had ached with an unaccustomed fullness, and her nipples had stood up proudly. Of course, today had to have been the day she wore a lacy bra without much support. The other one was in the wash.
    “You might want to snag a wealthy man like him,” Verna called out as Roxie exited with the iced tea on a round tray.
    No chance. I just got away from that madness.
    On one hand, she hoped Charles Vernon was gone, and on the other, she wished he would stay. Just to feast her eyes on him some more, she told herself.
    Brushing stray strands of hair from her eyes, she looked up, right into his eyes. She swore they could see through her and deep into her soul. She hoped to God that wasn’t true. Prisoners could rarely argue for their freedom, and Roxie vowed she’d