Huh?I didn't recall mentioning my ass at all. "What?"
Now she was blushing. "Nothing."
"It wassomething," I said.
"Well…" she stammered. "I guess…speaking of your ass…" Her words trailed into silence, and she glanced around, as if looking for an escape.
"Iwasn't speaking of it," I told her. "Youwere."
"Oh, shut up," she said. "I'm just saying that as long we're talking about stuff in your pants—" She froze. "Damn it. That'snotwhat I meant either."
Her blush deepened, and I fought a sudden urge to smile. "So you've been thinking about my pants, huh?"
"No." Her chin jerked upward. "Definitely not. I mean, yes, but not the wayyouobviously think." She cleared her throat. "I'm just saying, I'm surprised you didn't shoot me the other night."
"With what?" I laughed. "The 'gun' in my pants?"
"Oh, stop it," she said. "You're making it sound all worse."
"Worse than a gun?"
"Forget the pants," she said. "So you admit it? You had a gun?"
"Hell yeah, I had gun," I said. "What? You think I'm gonna go looking for an intruder without one?"
"I wasn't an intruder," she said. "I was waiting for my cousin. And you broke down the door."
"Yeah.Mydoor," I said. "So don't worry about it."
If Arden were anyone else, I might've taken the time to explain that it wasn't the door that broke, but rather the casing around it.
And, as far as the gun, it's not like I'd been waving it in her face. In fact, once I'd peered through that new hole in the wall and had seen the silhouette of a naked female in the shower, I'd actually tucked the gun into the back of my jeans to keep her from thinking that she was about to get murdered.
I'd been doing her a favor.
The way I saw it, she was lucky I'd taken the time to look first and shoot later – or rather, not shoot at all.
Andthiswas the thanks I got.
It was vintage Arden.
From the look on her face, she wasn't done yet. Sure enough, she demanded, "And why'd you do that, anyway?"
"Do what?"
"Break down the door."
I gave her a look. "You're kidding, right?"
"Do Ilooklike I'm kidding?"
I took a long moment to study her face.No, she definitely wasn't kidding.But shewasbeautiful. Her eyes were flashing, and her lips were full. And her chest – the perfect size, by the way – was rising and falling in time with her agitated breathing.
Memories of her little yellow T-shirt – and worse, her pretty pink nipples – came flooding back to me.She'd looked good.
Shestilllooked good.
I gave a silent curse. If I kept up this line of thinking, Iwouldbe dealing with a problem in my pants, except this time, it wouldn't be a gun.
