“Come here and kiss me, Annabelle.”
Chapter Eight
Annabelle’s lips parted. Kiss Frisco? No way. Not while he was lying in a bed and medicated to the max. Kiss him? Never. Not while she was trying to get her life together. What a very bad idea.
She decided to ignore him.
“I’m sure a small kiss is all the medication I’d need, Anna-anna-bella-bella. Bella Anna.”
Her brows puckered. “Frisco, you obviously don’t handle medicine very well. Maybe I’ll have the doctor splint your mouth to match your leg.”
He squinted at her. “Just a quick one, to make my ouchy go away.”
She rolled her eyes at the big man, trussed up, helpless, with a baby under his arm, spouting nonsense. “Pathetic, Frisco. Really. You won’t want to remember this conversation in the morning.”
“I think you like me. Don’t you, Annabelle? Emmie sure does.”
“Emmie’s designs on you are not the same asmine,” she said starchily. Sitting down in the rocker across from him, she pulled out a book. “I have to wash some things, so go to sleep.”
“I’ll only be helpless one day. I want my kiss now, while I’m half-anaesthetized.”
“What good does that do?” Her heart beat harder as she considered his silly pleading.
“It makes me brave enough to ask a woman I know I shouldn’t ask for anything. Under normal circumstances, that is.”
“So you’re saying that a quick, sisterly kiss is something we could both forget when the drugs wear off.” Her brow quirked.
“I don’t know. Do drugs work like alcohol?”
“Do you often kiss women while you’re alcohol-impaired just so you won’t have to remember your behavior?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve always had to be fairly responsible.” His brow furrowed. “Maybe that’s why I’m so tempted now.”
“Well, I’m not impaired. And I’d remember.” Likely, she’d never forget it. He was a very appealing man.
He brightened. “We could get you impaired. Maybe Doc Gonzalez could give you a shot, too.”
“Thanks, no,” she said hastily. “I had enough of those in the hospital having Emmie.”
“Oh. Well, then, I guess I’m just going to have to do without.” His expression turned sad.
“Yes, I think you are.”
“Maybe it’s better that way.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I probably wouldn’t like kissing you.”
Now he was heading from pathetic to whiny manipulative. Two could play that game. “I know I wouldn’t like kissing you.”
“Betcha a hundred bucks you would,” he said confidently.
She laughed. “I don’t need a hundred bucks.”
He frowned. “I’ll bet you your hundred-dollar bill back that you’ll like kissing me.”
“Really, Frisco, you have nothing to prove, and I don’t need the money.”
“Why not? Emmie might need a new dress some day.”
“I’m financially able to take care of Emmie. Don’t worry about her. And I owed you for the bus ticket. Why don’t you go to sleep now? You have to be tired.”
“Strangely enough, I feel strung like a bad guitar string.”
Great. She had to baby-sit the only six-foot-four male who went hyper on pain medication. Heaven forbid he should fold like a tent the way most people would.
“I changed my mind,” Frisco said suddenly. “I don’t want you to kiss me.” The fog had left his mind for just a minute, long enough for him to knowhe was making a royal ass of himself. She smelled good, like roses in his mother’s garden. Blond hair pushed back by a white headband fell smoothly in a gleaming curve to the edge of her chin. China-blue eyes, fringed by long black lashes, regarded him intently, stripping him of his bravado. She had full supple lips which were slicked with some kind of clear gloss, lips which Frisco thought would be fabulous for kissing and soothing other parts of his body, as well.
He stopped those thoughts in a hurry. Miss Annabelle and her dainty dress were a nightmare to a man who should want nothing more than to get her the hell out of
Chapter Eight
Annabelle’s lips parted. Kiss Frisco? No way. Not while he was lying in a bed and medicated to the max. Kiss him? Never. Not while she was trying to get her life together. What a very bad idea.
She decided to ignore him.
“I’m sure a small kiss is all the medication I’d need, Anna-anna-bella-bella. Bella Anna.”
Her brows puckered. “Frisco, you obviously don’t handle medicine very well. Maybe I’ll have the doctor splint your mouth to match your leg.”
He squinted at her. “Just a quick one, to make my ouchy go away.”
She rolled her eyes at the big man, trussed up, helpless, with a baby under his arm, spouting nonsense. “Pathetic, Frisco. Really. You won’t want to remember this conversation in the morning.”
“I think you like me. Don’t you, Annabelle? Emmie sure does.”
“Emmie’s designs on you are not the same asmine,” she said starchily. Sitting down in the rocker across from him, she pulled out a book. “I have to wash some things, so go to sleep.”
“I’ll only be helpless one day. I want my kiss now, while I’m half-anaesthetized.”
“What good does that do?” Her heart beat harder as she considered his silly pleading.
“It makes me brave enough to ask a woman I know I shouldn’t ask for anything. Under normal circumstances, that is.”
“So you’re saying that a quick, sisterly kiss is something we could both forget when the drugs wear off.” Her brow quirked.
“I don’t know. Do drugs work like alcohol?”
“Do you often kiss women while you’re alcohol-impaired just so you won’t have to remember your behavior?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve always had to be fairly responsible.” His brow furrowed. “Maybe that’s why I’m so tempted now.”
“Well, I’m not impaired. And I’d remember.” Likely, she’d never forget it. He was a very appealing man.
He brightened. “We could get you impaired. Maybe Doc Gonzalez could give you a shot, too.”
“Thanks, no,” she said hastily. “I had enough of those in the hospital having Emmie.”
“Oh. Well, then, I guess I’m just going to have to do without.” His expression turned sad.
“Yes, I think you are.”
“Maybe it’s better that way.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I probably wouldn’t like kissing you.”
Now he was heading from pathetic to whiny manipulative. Two could play that game. “I know I wouldn’t like kissing you.”
“Betcha a hundred bucks you would,” he said confidently.
She laughed. “I don’t need a hundred bucks.”
He frowned. “I’ll bet you your hundred-dollar bill back that you’ll like kissing me.”
“Really, Frisco, you have nothing to prove, and I don’t need the money.”
“Why not? Emmie might need a new dress some day.”
“I’m financially able to take care of Emmie. Don’t worry about her. And I owed you for the bus ticket. Why don’t you go to sleep now? You have to be tired.”
“Strangely enough, I feel strung like a bad guitar string.”
Great. She had to baby-sit the only six-foot-four male who went hyper on pain medication. Heaven forbid he should fold like a tent the way most people would.
“I changed my mind,” Frisco said suddenly. “I don’t want you to kiss me.” The fog had left his mind for just a minute, long enough for him to knowhe was making a royal ass of himself. She smelled good, like roses in his mother’s garden. Blond hair pushed back by a white headband fell smoothly in a gleaming curve to the edge of her chin. China-blue eyes, fringed by long black lashes, regarded him intently, stripping him of his bravado. She had full supple lips which were slicked with some kind of clear gloss, lips which Frisco thought would be fabulous for kissing and soothing other parts of his body, as well.
He stopped those thoughts in a hurry. Miss Annabelle and her dainty dress were a nightmare to a man who should want nothing more than to get her the hell out of
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