No Good Deed
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Lydia Parks
Word Count :17500
Publication Date :2011-06-19
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55410-125-4
For Lance Trahan, Justice is a signal to do what needs to be done--to settle accounts and accept responsibilities.
In Tarot readings, the Justice card often appears when one is concerned with doing what is right, or is feeling the impact of a past mistake or good deed. The cause set in motion earlier returns as an effect. For Lance Trahan, Justice is a signal to do what needs to be done--to settle accounts and accept responsibilities. The past will continue to haunt him if he does not recognize his mistakes and make amends for them. He will need to weigh matters carefully and make important decisions about his future course.
"You moved in last week," she said.
"I'm Ariel." Her gaze swept over him from head to toe and back before settling on his face.
He swallowed hard. "Lance. Lance Trahan."
"Lance," she said softly. Her voice raised goose bumps on his arms.
He looked around. "You, uh, live around here?"
"I'm just a few houses down," she said.
The steadiness of her gaze unnerved him. He took a deep breath. "I, uh, I'm sorry I'm such a mess, or I'd offer you a cup of coffee or something."
She shrugged. "I don't mind."
It took him a moment to understand that she was taking him up on his coffee offer, in spite of the fact that he was covered with dirt. He motioned toward the kitchen door. "Please."
She walked ahead of him, her hands clasped behind her back, her feet bare. She looked incredibly cool and relaxed as she entered his kitchen and took a seat at the small breakfast table.
Lance grabbed a stack of dirty dishes and lowered them into the sink, wishing he hadn't let them pile up. Replacing the scarred Formica counter and cracked yellow tile floor suddenly seemed more urgent than it had been just a few minutes earlier. Of course, he hadn't expected to have a real guest in his kitchen. At least, not one so damned attractive.
"Uh, excuse me a second." Lance hurried down the hall to the bathroom where he tossed dirty clothes into a hamper and pulled the shower curtain closed. As he washed his hands and arms, he glanced in the mirror and cringed. Why bother with the house? He looked like shit. Sweat caked his dark hair, usually wavy and full, to his scalp like a skullcap, and his eyes looked more red than blue. The only thing his recent outdoor activities had helped at all was his tan. With a sigh, he rinsed the suds from his arms, and then hurried back to the kitchen.
His guest hadn't moved, and he watched her discreetly as he measured out coffee for the coffeemaker. She couldn't be more than twenty-five. Her skin was beautifully clear and white as if the sun had never touched it. She had a great figure that her sleeveless dress clung to. And the skirt fell suggestively between her thighs.
Mentally shaking himself, Lance concentrated on pouring water. "Do you often have coffee with men you don't know?"