Small-Town Redemption Read Free

cultures it symbolizes judgment.”
    “Judgment,” she whispered almost to herself. “I would have thought you’d choose a different emblem, something more...antiestablishment. Skull and crossbones or a hand with the middle finger sticking up.”
    “What are you doing?”
    His question startled her, the low timbre of his voice causing gooseflesh to prick her arms.
    She licked her lips. His eyes, following the movement, narrowed to slits. “Wha—what do you mean?”
    He looked pointedly at her hand still on his arm, her fingers caressing the smoothness of his skin as if of their own will.
    Her first instinct was to leap back, to put as much distance between them as possible. But that would defeat the purpose of her visit, wouldn’t it? She could do this.
    She’d come too far to back down now.
    Charlotte flattened her palm against his biceps, and he tensed, the muscle flexing momentarily before relaxing. “I’m touching you,” she said softly, smoothing her hand up his arm and settling it on his shoulder.
    Oh, please don’t let my palms start sweating. Not now.
    “Why are you touching me?”
    Seriously? You’d think it was the first time the man had been hit on by a woman. Jeez. “Because I want to.”
    Determined, and more than a little terrified, she laid her other hand on his opposite shoulder and held his gaze, annoyed and deflated when his remained steady. She wanted to fluster him, for him feel a fraction of the nerves, of the crazy energy, she felt whenever they were together.
    Thanks to her high heels, it was easy, incredibly easy, to link her hands behind his neck and tug his head down. Her heart pounded painfully. Good Lord she hoped she didn’t have a coronary. Not now, not when his mouth was inches from her own, his breath mingling with hers.
    She brushed a soft kiss across his mouth. Leaned back, her stomach in knots. But Kane didn’t jerk as if she’d tossed acid in his face, didn’t push her away as if she were some leper come to spread her disease. Didn’t treat her as if she were unattractive. Unwanted.
    As James had when she’d kissed him.
    Kane simply watched her. Patient, curious and waiting for her next move.
    Emboldened, she stepped closer until their thighs touched, her breasts pressing against his chest, his warmth seeping through the silk of her shirt. She wished he would take the initiative, would sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. That he’d take control and show her how this was done.
    He didn’t move.
    She should kiss him again, a real kiss, one with tongue, but she was frozen, unable to move. Unable to think. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her want to curl into herself, to slink away. But she wasn’t a quitter. The only way to get what you wanted was to go after it.
    And what she wanted was Kane.
    “Take me to bed,” she told him, albeit a bit shakily. “Now.”
    * * *
    W HY HIM ?
    Kane sighed, the movement causing his shoulders to rise and fall, which in turn caused Red’s breasts to brush against his chest. She didn’t have a lot going on in that department, but she had enough for his body to notice.
    Hell.
    Reaching behind his neck, he tugged her hands apart, then set her away from him. “Sorry, Red. Not interested.”
    He went into the kitchen, but not before seeing the hurt, the embarrassment, cross her face.
    Not his problem, he told himself, pouring more coffee into his cup. It wasn’t up to him to soothe or coddle her. She’d come here, had come to him. He hadn’t asked for her attention or her clumsy attempts at seduction.
    She stomped after him, the embodiment of a woman scorned, complete with narrowed eyes and red splotches coloring her cheeks. She’d come to him and obviously wasn’t in a hurry to leave.
    “What do you mean you’re not interested?” she asked, sounding incredulous. Disbelieving. “You’re a man. I’m a woman.”
    Sipping his coffee, he looked her up and down. Her hair, red as a