Gun For Hire
“Why John Deacon, Sam?” Grady’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I threw my hands up. “It could be Jesus Christ himself signing my paycheck and I’d still be doing it for the same reasons! The job works for my family. What is your problem with John Deacon? And don’t tell me nothing—you owe me more than that.”
“Maybe I’m just jealous.” Grady stared ahead. “Like you said.”
My stomach did a loop. “Don’t use your charm on me, I’m immune—”
“You think I’m charming?”
“Hell no, I don’t! And particularly not when you’re avoiding my question.”
“But you said I had charm.” He tilted his head and gave me a long, sly look from the corner of his eyes. His teeth flashed white from that tanned face and I nearly had to fan myself when I realized I loved the feeling of Grady teasing me.
I threw my hands up in the air. “I give up!”
He wanted to talk about confusing? All I knew about Grady prior to this day was that he was six-foot-two of gorgeous and about as warm as a polar bear on the North Pole in January. And now--
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