Trouble With Harry by Myla Jackson Page A

thoughts. The guy would probably fill her dreams as well. The sooner she got him out of her life, the sooner she could get back to her normal, safe existence.

Chapter Seven
     
    Harry tossed on the narrow couch until the beeping sound in Edie’s room signaled the end of an interminable night. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he could see Edie’s pale, freckle-dusted skin against red satin. Then he’d get hard and frustrated and no way he could sleep after that.
    Sounds of feet hitting the floor and running water drifted through the wooden panels, and he could imagine Edie preparing for work.
    Strained and exhausted from lack of sleep, Harry gave up, tossed the blanket off and lumbered to his feet.
    The telephone chirped on the table next to the couch and Harry practically jumped out of his skin before he realized what it was. Who would call this early in the morning? Where had manners gone in the last eighty years?
    The water was still running in the bathroom and the telephone continued to chirp. Should he answer or leave it alone? He hadn’t actually used the telephone since he got here. They looked a far cry different from the ones he’d seen back in his time. But they basically functioned the same.
    He lifted the handle he’d seen Edie talk into and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”
    “Edie?” a man’s voice said into Harry’s ear. “No, this is Harry.”
    “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”
    “No, Edie’s in the shower. Is there something you need me to tell her?”
    Quiet created a void in Harry’s ear and he almost thought he’d lost the connection.
    “Are you the gigolo my daughter’s shacking up with?” the man demanded.
    So this was Edie’s father, the man who’d made such a beautiful woman feel ugly. The hackles rose on the back of his neck. If the other man were standing in front of him, Harry would be hard pressed not to punch him. Since he was a guest in Edie’s home, he refrained from saying what he thought and concentrated on answering the man’s question. Although a little confused by the older man’s phraseology, he’d gotten the gist. “If you mean am I staying here, yes.”
    “I thought so.” Another long pause. “Tell her to call me back.” The words weren’t a request, they were a command. The line clicked and a solid bell tone filled Harry’s ear.
    “Was someone on the phone?”
    Harry swung around at the sound of Edie’s voice.
    Wearing a blue-green robe her hair wrapped in a towel, she looked young, fresh and entirely too kissable.
    Harry’s cock stirred before she spoke again, his body too quick to react to her presence. He hoped she didn’t notice the way his zipper bulged out in the jeans he’d slept in. “It was your father.”
    With her auburn eyebrows wrinkling, she bit her lower lip. “What did he say?”
    “What is a gigolo?” Harry asked.
    Edie rolled her eyes. “He never gives up. It’s a man who takes money for sex.”
    “Like a whore?”
    “Yeah, a male whore, I guess you could say.”
    A smile curved his lips. “I think I’ve been insulted.”
    “Yes, most likely, knowing my father.” A lopsided smile slid up one side of her cheek.
    Harry wanted to kiss her even more. “He wanted you to call him.”
    She pulled the towel from her hair and rubbed at the damp tresses. “Did he say why?”
    “No.”
    Edie pulled the telephone from Harry’s hands.
    When her fingers brushed against his, shockwaves passed up his arms and straight downward to his groin. The fresh scent of the floral soap she used in her shower drifted beneath his nose. He should be ashamed of his thoughts. As Mitch had pointed out, Edie had been a virgin only yesterday and Harry had taken that away from her. Now, all he wanted to do was take her again and again.
    His fists tightened as he repressed the urge to reach out and take her in his arms. Damn it, what did he have to offer her? He didn’t have a job in this century nor did he have a place to live. And