Read Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) for Free Online

bathroom.” Without glancing her way, he paused near the thermostat to adjust the dial.
    “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” She picked up the phone again. Maybe she would call his mother.
    Now he looked at her. In this light his eyes weren’t so much hazel as they were green, but either way, they were trained on her, and she wished they weren’t.
    “I’m turning up the heat. It’s freezing in here,” he said.
    “No, I have to pay for that heat. Turn it back down and put on a sweater. And some socks. Better yet, put on your coat and boots and go someplace else. What did you say your name was?”
    “Grant Connelly.” He walked past her and into the kitchen.
    She turned to watch his movements. “OK, Grant Connelly. You’re showered, dried off, and dressed. So now you need to skadoosh right on out of this house. The house which I have rented and paid for.”
    He looked over his shoulder at her as he put his hand on the refrigerator door handle. “Do you have any food?”
    “What?”
    “Food. You know? Something to eat?” His wet hair was messy, as if he’d shaken like a dog to get the water out but hadn’t bothered with a comb, and the scraggly beard looked like more a case of lost razor than style decision. Clearly he was not trying to impress anyone.
    “Yes, I have food, but it’s mine,” she said.
    His smirk was sly and crinkled the corners of those eyes, whatever color they might be. “If it’s in my fridge, then I should get to eat some of it, don’t you think? I can’t go anywhere on an empty stomach.”
    A puff of relief escaped from her lungs. Go anywhere? Good. He was planning to leave, and she then could have this place back to herself. That’s all she wanted. To be left alone.
    “There’s peanut butter and jelly,” she said.
    “Peanut butter and jelly?” The smile turned dubious and he looked her over more carefully. “How old are you?”
    First rule of celebrity was never admit your age. “How is that any of your business?”
    “I just want to make sure I’m not harboring a runaway sixteen-year-old.”
    Delaney crossed her arms and all but stomped her fuzzy-slippered foot—which would not have helped prove her maturity, so she refrained.
    “I’m well beyond sixteen. I just happen to like peanut butter and jelly. So how about I make you a sandwich while you get your things together and then you can lea—” Another thought interrupted the first. “Where’s your car?”
    He shook his head and opened the refrigerator. As if he owned the place. “I don’t have one. The church bus dropped me off.”
    “The church bus?” Oh, no. Not another preacher’s son. She would’ve rather he’d been dropped off by an alien spacecraft.
    “Yep. Church bus. Hallelujah and amen.” He did the Jesus woot-woot with both hands, then pulled an apple from the top shelf. He really wasn’t catching on to the whole get-your-ass-out-of-here vibe she was sending. He seemed to be more in the make-yourself-at-home mode.
    “Well, if you don’t have a car, then we should call you a cab. It’s getting late, and in case I haven’t mentioned it, I’d like you to leave.” The sooner she could get him gone, the sooner she could start to breathe again. He didn’t seem like the tabloid-reading kind of guy, so there wasn’t much chance of him recognizing her, but it was unnerving to have a total stranger in her house. Or his house. Landlady’s son or not, she didn’t know anything about him.
    Except for what he looked like naked.
    She did know all about that. Hiccup.
    “Yeah, about leaving.” He set the apple on the counter and ran both hands through his wet hair, slicking it back a little. It looked good that way. Sexy, which Delaney so did not need to notice. Her lungs went whump as her knees went goosh.
    He took a step toward her. “See, my family doesn’t know I’m back in town yet. I was hoping to surprise them, but it’s too late to do that tonight, so I think I’ll just crash