Read Deathwatch for Free Online Page B

acknowledge that her landlord was amazingly hot.  
    “ Good morning.” She widened her smile. “I hope you slept well. How about I make you something to eat?” She flitted into the kitchen, full of take-charge energy, snuck a square of caramel dark chocolate from the utensil drawer and popped it into her mouth.  
    He turned a bleary eye on her and grunted.
    Great. He was in a bad mood. He couldn’t be in a bad mood when they were about to have a discussion that would have a huge effect on her life.
    Cheer him up. Quick. She kept the smile as she turned on the radio, tuned to her favorite pop rock station. He might have grunted again. She couldn’t hear it over the music. She wanted another square of chocolate. Resisted.  
    His bicep flexed as he lifted the mug to his mouth. The olive drab T-shirt stretched pretty impressively over his wide shoulders. The 24-hour shadow emphasized his masculine jaw and....
    She caught herself. She was so not going to get distracted here. “ How about bacon and eggs?” She hurried to the fridge. “With pancakes.”  
    She had to be able to stay. Finding a rental that didn’t require a credit check and references wasn’t something she could do on short notice.
    “ Orange juice?” She poured a tall glass even as she asked. She set it on the table in front of him, then went around him to the cupboard for flour, accidentally brushing against his shoulder in the small space.  
    She swallowed as an electric charge ran up her arm.
    She stepped away too hastily and stubbed her toe on a chair, saw stars. She gritted her teeth without letting her smile slip.
    She was going to smile if it killed her. She glanced toward the window, out into the dreary winter morning. “I think we’re going to have a beautiful day.”
    * * *
    “Mah,” Murph grunted as he stared at Miss Chirpy's bare feet. Her toes, tipped with orange polish, looked like ladybugs marching on his dark slate kitchen tile as she walked and talked.
    If she didn’t quit, they were going to have to discuss duct tape. A man needed time to fully wake up before being confronted with that kind of happy-peppy energy.
    He tuned her out as he raised his gaze. Her skirt hid precious little of her long legs. The way her soft cotton shirt outlined her breasts…okay, that eased his pain a little.
    The basic male, caveman-Murph wanted nothing more than to roll back into his bed with her and celebrate his homecoming long and hard.
    “ Want chocolate chips in your pancakes?” She danced by him, smiling like a demented pep-rally queen.  
    Okay, nobody was that cheerful. What was wrong with her?  
    “ No, thanks.” He couldn’t afford to fall into a sugar coma. He had a busy day ahead of him—first item on his list being getting her out of his house.  
    He got up with his mug in hand, the Broslin P.D. logo comfortingly familiar and sane, walked over to the radio and turned it off. “I thought maybe we could talk.”
    She kept the smile on, but she had to work at it.
    He refilled his coffee. “So you waitress at the diner? Bing mentioned it.”
    She nodded as she put strips of bacon into the skillet. “I’ll make toast.” She grabbed the bag of bread on the counter and headed for the toaster.
    “ What brings you to Broslin?”  
    She dropped the toast in, smacked the lever down, then hurried to the fridge. “How many eggs? Scrambled? Sometimes I make them poached. It’s no trouble.”
    Those little ladybugs were ready to fly away as she zipped around his kitchen. He sipped his coffee as he watched her, then set his mug down on the butcher-block counter of the kitchen island. “How about you tell me how much money you paid Doug? I can refund it. I’ll even help you pack. Obviously, now that I’m home, the house is no longer available.”
    Her hand jerked as she cracked the egg, spilling some on the side of the bowl. She kept smiling, but her muscles were tight around her eyes, her shoulders drawn in a defensive pose.
    She