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.”Townsend closed my notebook with tanned fingers.“I think I can save you some time by telling you what I’ve learned.” He took my arm.“Let’s talk on my boat.”I followed Townsend to his water craft, a gorgeous silver and metallic blue something-or-other.He helped me negotiate the crossing from dock to vessel.I had difficulty spreading my legs far enough apart to bridge the gulf.When I was comfortably ensconced on a rather nice padded seat, and my pants were slackened around my nether regions, Townsend offered me a diet soda, which I politely declined.No way was I going to squeeze more into the jeans from hell.“So, what have you learned?” I took out my pen and notebook.“When was Peyton Palmer last out on the lake? Does anyone recall?”Townsend looked at his hands, then fiddled with his can of pop.“Well?”“You’re probably not going to like this much,” Townsend said.“In fact, I can guarantee you’re going to have a hissy fit when you hear what I have to tell you.So, before I say a word, I want to remind you that I am only the messenger, so don’t shoot the messenger.Okay, Tressa? Messenger.Got it?”“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Townsend, I can assure you no matter what you have to tell me, you’re safe from attack.Feel better?”Townsend shook his head.“We have a history, remember, Calamity.”“Ancient history, Ranger Rick,” I assured him.“Now get on with it.”He took a very, very deep breath, like a man preparing to dive off a very high cliff.Or propose.“Okay, here goes nothing.” He wiped a palm on his navy shirt.He took another breath.“All right.According to several boaters, Peyton Palmer did, indeed, take his boat out this weekend.”I started scribbling in my notebook.This was good stuff.“What time did they say he headed out Friday evening?” I inquired, my pen poised to jot down the times.“What time did he come in?”Townsend shook his head, then took a long, hard swallow of his drink.“Well, you see, Tressa, the thing is.”“Yes?”“Nobody saw Peyton go out on Friday night.”I gave him my best dumb blonde look.Okay, so in this case it was the real thing.“Huh? But you just said—”“I said he took the boat out this weekend.The thing is, Tressa.What I’m trying to tell you, is that.”“Oh, for crying out loud, just spit it out, Townsend! What are you trying so hard not to tell me?”“Peyton Palmer didn’t go out on his boat Friday night, Tressa.”“But you just said.”“He went out Saturday.Saturday morning.”I fielded Townsend’s information with my usual aplomb.My jaw just totally relaxed.My mouth flew open.I may have even drooled a tad bit, but I was wearing black, so who can be sure.I jumped to my feet and sent the boat wildly rocking.“What do you mean, Saturday?” I’m pretty sure I was yelling at this point.Or maybe I just sounded that way to myself because my ears are so close to my mouth.“Peyton Palmer couldn’t have been out to sea on Saturday, because he was already swimming with the fishes Friday night!”The next thing I knew I had Townsend by the shirt and was shaking him (or maybe it was just the rocking of the boat), and we both went ass-over-appetite over the side.CHAPTER 10There’s one thing worse than in-your-butt-jeans, and that is wet, in-your-butt-jeans.Townsend was the first one back in the boat.I was beginning to prune by the time he bothered to offer me a hand.For a while there, it seemed to me he had every intention of leaving me in the water.He threw me a towel.“You better get out of those wet grab-ass jeans,” he said.“I think I have an extra pair of sweatpants around here somewhere.”“Is this your amateurish attempt to get me out of my pants?” I eyed him through a jungle of wet hair.“Because if it is, it won’t work.Besides, I couldn’t pry myself out of these jeans with a crowbar.”Townsend laughed, grabbed another towel, and began to dry off his dark hair.I was envious of the way his fell right into place, except for one dark, dramatic lock perfectly poised over his forehead.By contrast, I probably resembled Medusa, or the goddess of the deep.“If I put that kind of move on you, C.J.—how did you put it before? Oh, yes, your ‘bum would be mine.’”“Oh, puh-lease!” I twisted the towel around my head.“I’ve known you way too long to fall for any of your lines, Ranger Rick.You forget.I’ve seen you and my brother’s Macho, Macho Man routine from the get-go.Corny and cornier.Thank God, Craig has married and settled down.Well, semi-settled down.”“Craig says you have a hard time with men,” Townsend said.“Fear of intimacy, I think he said.”I scowled.“More like fear of being stuck with some knuckle-dragger with delusions of godhood,” I snapped.“And for the record, my brother is insane.I’m just very selective, that’s all,” I said—probably more to convince myself than him.“I’m like Everest.It’s a long, hard climb, bucko, but once you’ve made it to the top, man, is it worth it!”“Sounds like a challenge.” Townsend pulled the towel off my head and wrapped it around my neck, keeping hold of both ends.“I never could resist a challenge,” he said, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks.My vision blurred.I shook my head.“Uh, something else about Everest you should probably remember.” My voice suddenly went Darth Vader on me, complete with heavy breathing.“What’s that, Tressa?” Townsend pulled on the ends of the towels and propelled me toward him.“Many climbers find Everest unattainable.Only those with the utmost stamina, unflagging endurance, immeasurable intestinal fortitude, and death-defying determination make the summit.”Townsend smiled, then put his lips on mine for a mere moment.“Thanks for the warning, Kilamanjaro,” he teased.“I’ll proceed with caution.” He gave me another light peck, one way too short for me to ascertain how he rated as a kisser.And, of course, that was the only interest I had in his kiss.Purely clinical.Curiosity only.Nothing more.Pinky swear.Yeah right [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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