Hot Pursuit Read Free

she was queasily aware of how lucky they had been. Her neighbor had taken a tumble and now sported a nasty gash along her back, while Taylor had received four stitches above her right knee, a cut on her face, and about a thousand bruises.
    But they were both damned lucky the fall hadn’t been worse, and Taylor was pretty sure it was no thanks to a bottom-feeder named Harris Rains.
    Under the influence of two Darvocets, Candace had come up with the only humor of the evening: “It never Rains, it bores. . . .”
    Wincing, Taylor shuffled off the elevator and dumped her climbing bag on the floor outside her apartment, searching for her keys. Only then did she register the amazing smells of food emanating from the nearest apartment—which was very odd since her neighbor was a Cal Tech geek whose idea of a well-rounded diet was a blonde in a thong and two six-packs of Dos Equis. The man probably hadn’t opened his oven in months.
    Taylor took another lingering sniff.
    Lasagna with really good cheese. The spice smells could be pumpkin pie. She closed her eyes in silent homage to the unknown chef.
    Despite her growling stomach, she resolutely ignored the open door. With a new book in progress, eating came at odd moments when the words weren’t flowing. Even at the best of times, Taylor was no cook. Scrambled eggs and coffee tested the limits of her skill. Her favorite kitchen utensils were a telephone and a take-out menu.
    Another whiff of tomato sauce with fresh basil and oregano drifted down the hall. Taylor felt like weeping.
    But she had a can of soup inside. She’d shower and heat something up. For dessert she’d have the smashed protein bar left over after the climbing trek from hell.
    Behind her, boots scraped on bare wood. A long rail of unfinished pine shot out of her neighbor’s doorway.
    And holding it steady was the most amazing, delicious,
outstanding
male body she had ever set eyes on.
    â€œComing through.”
    Taylor watched in stunned silence. Van Damme shoulders. Kung-fu torso.
    Could you have a hot flash at thirty-five?
    The geek must be doing an apartment makeover. His handyman clearly had a girlfriend happy to throw together a six-course meal on short notice.
    With a body like that, the man could have
any
food group he wanted, anywhere he wanted.
    He studied Taylor as he hefted the board easily onto one hip. “You live in 7B?”
    Taylor realized she was staring. Staring glassy-eyed. “Uh . . . yeah. That’s me.”
    â€œI hope the noise isn’t bothering you. I’m putting in a new kitchen cabinet today.”
    â€œI didn’t hear anything.” Taylor cleared her throat. “I—I just came in.”
    â€œJack Broussard. I’m your new neighbor.” Mr. Fixit held out a hand covered with sawdust. “Pleasure to meet you.”
    Taylor swallowed. Her eyes kept drifting down that muscled chest to lean hips. “Taylor O’Toole. What happened to the prior tenant?”
    The man shrugged. “Some kind of research grant came up at Cal Tech. In exchange for cheap rent, I agreed to update a few things in the apartment.”
    His gray eyes narrowed on her knee, bandaged just below her spandex climbing shorts. “Take a tumble on your bike?”
    â€œNo, from a cliff up in Marin. It was my first outdoor climb.”
    He shifted the plank of wood. “And you fell?”
    â€œThe rope pulled free.” Taylor shivered, blocking the memories.
    â€œIt must hurt.” Her new neighbor leaned the wooden plank against the wall, muscles flexing smoothly. “You couldn’t get me up on a cliff without a gun at my back.”
    Taylor didn’t even have enough energy left to brag. “You probably won’t get
me
up there again either. One of the bolts broke and the rope pulled free.” Even now she couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Free fall at ninety feet isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
    The