Project Produce(37)
“Say when,” he said, his voice sounding strained.
“Now! I’m about to pass out.”
He shoved, but the window hardly budged. “It’s stuck.”
“Ya think?”
“Don’t get short with me. I’m not the one who ate an entire box of macaroni and cheese.”
“How did you--”
He shoved harder, and I went flying forward.
“Ahhh!” I hooked my ankles over the window and braced my hands on the floor, wheelbarrow-style, so I wouldn’t land on my head. Something hard slammed into my backside, grabbing my hips. That something had hands? “Whoops. Guess I didn’t hook the window, did I?”
“More like my shoulders,” he said, but made no effort to move. “Interesting position, Mac.”
“Oh, God, is that?” I blinked, wishing I hadn’t just spoken out loud.
Note to self: This stupid project has my brain working like a man’s--unable to think about anything but “my” winkie.
He grunted, then coughed, adding more pressure to my backside, but I didn’t budge.
I closed my eyes, mortified that his flipping cue stick had found my center pocket. “Um, Detective,” I choked out. “You can let go of me now.”
“Um, Mac,” he mimicked. “I already did five minutes ago. It’s you who needs to let go of me. I don’t think Pinocchio can take much more.”
“Sorry.” I whipped my legs wide apart and landed on my head after all. “Ow.” Rolling forward, I sat up and rubbed my scalp, not quite meeting his eyes. “How did you know I ate macaroni and cheese for dinner?”
“You left the box on the table.” He stepped inside and did a quick sweep of my apartment while I stood. “That wasn’t too smart, leaving your window open after you climbed out.” He shut the window and then started to lower the blinds.
“Wait, let me see.” I peeked over his shoulder, still not completely buying his story. “I don’t see your backup.”
“He just went in the building.”
“The guy I saw wasn’t wearing a uniform.”
“Do I?”
“Well, no, but--”
Dylan dropped the blinds. “It might be a wise idea to keep these closed from now on. Wouldn’t want anyone staring at anything they shouldn’t be.”
“Ugh. I feel like I’m in a tomb with everything so closed up, especially in such a small apartment.” I shivered.
“Well, no wonder. My jacket’s as wet as you are.” Stepping forward, he slipped his jacket off me and draped it over a chair to dry. I couldn’t help crossing my arms in front of what little I had, feeling like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest. Though a pair of Band-Aids would have done the trick.
His eyes locked on my face, thank God. “We need to warm you up.”
“We do?” I felt tingly, staring into his eyes, imagining all sorts of ways he could warm me up. My gaze ran over his rippling muscles and flat stomach. It had been a long time for me, but no way was I spoiling my record, especially for a zucchini.
“I’ll run the tub, and you get what you need to change into.” He strode into the bathroom and turned on the pipes. The small apartment came to life with rattles, creaks, and groans.
“Uh, I can take my own bath, thanks.”
“Who said I was giving you a bath?” he hollered back. “I’m just handling the pipes. But if you want me to wash your back, just let me know.”
Handling the pipes? Oh, yeah. He was just like Bob. Forcing myself into motion, I could barely move my fingers to crank up the heat. I don’t know how I managed to pull some clothes from my dresser. My teeth chattered so hard, and my feet stung as though I’d stepped on a beehive. Matter of fact, I couldn’t even feel my toes. That didn’t seem like a good sign.
Sauntering out, Dylan leveled me with his sizzling blue laser beams. “Sure you don’t need any help?”
Oh, I needed help, but not the kind he was offering. “Thanks, but I can manage.”
“Okay.” He folded his arms, but made no move to step out of the way.
“Okay, then.” I squeezed by him, shut the door, and then struggled out of my clothes. Sinking into the lukewarm tub with a hiss, I sighed with relief. It wasn’t as hot as I liked, but with the way my fingers and toes stung, that was probably a good thing.
Darn him. Super Cop always seemed to know just what to do. I slipped on my headphones and closed my eyes, letting the warm water seep into my very bones. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the image of him warming me up out of my mind. Like I would ever take a bath with Hot Britches.