Catch Me If You Can by Donna Kauffman

you out of here in the next five minutes or I’m ringing up Constable Stiles.” She glared at Jory. “And wouldn’t your dear, sweet uncle be quite interested in hearing how you’ve spent your morning?”
    “Mo, come now, no need for threats,” Jory said, his voice quickly turning all cajoling and reasonable. Although they both knew his uncle had a fondness for Jory that would likely preclude him doing anything worse than giving him a stern lecture. He would also likely tell his brother Gavin, Jory’s dad, who wouldn’t go so easy on him. Although who knew for sure, Jory was a master of talking his way out of—and into—things.
    Being the baby in a family of eight certainly had its benefits , she thought morosely. Being an only child herself, she was technically oldest, youngest, and everything in between. Unfortunately, the only benefit she’d received from that arrangement was not having to wear hand-me-downs or wait in line for the loo.
    Jory quickly climbed from the bed and pulled on his pants, then stepped between the two women, his back to Priss as she finished dressing. “Don’t be mad at her, Mo. I shoul d have told you myself, but… well, you know how my father goes on about you and about how being with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done and well, I—”
    Maura held up her hand. “Please, if you think telling me you didn’t end things because you didn’t want to hurt your dad is going to make me feel better—”
    “No, I was just tryin’ to explain.” He had the gall to reach for her hands.
    Not only wasn’t Maura soft and rounded, she wasn’t short or petite either. And Jory still had a good four inches on her in height. Imposing and all male, she’d never gotten past that little rush of arousal every time she had to look up to look into his eyes. He had a body that had surely been chiseled by the gods. And the face of a fallen angel. She felt a littl e pang when she realized she’d never again have those shamelessly soft lips kissing every inch of her skin, from the back of her neck, all the way down to the instep of her foot. Never again would she get the chance to run her hands over those broad, keg-hauling shoulders, down that muscled back.
    He must have seen someth ing in her eyes, because he gentl ed his voice, making it all deep and drowsy. She could almost forget Priss was still in the room with them. Almost. “I didn’t me an to hurt you. Honest. It just… we’d been flirting a littl e and somehow it got a wee bit out of hand.” His mouth pulled down at the corners in a way that made him look remorseful and adorab le at the same time. Like a littl e boy who’d gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. The same little boy who knew he was mama’s favorite and could likely talk his way out of a spanking.
    Of course, for all Maura knew, given the scene she’d walked in on and those knee-high black leather boots Priss was clutching, he might just enjoy a good whipping. Which was image enough to snap her out of her foolish little reverie. She’d known him to be a charming scoundrel even before she’d gone to bed with him, so she really had no one to blame but herself, she supposed. But if he thought he could sweet talk his way out of this, he was about to learn otherwise. She stepped back, out of his reach. “A wee bit out of hand?” she repeated. “Is that what you’d call this? Well, you’d best be following Priss out that door in the next minute,” she said, teeth clenched. “Or I’ll be taking your wee bit in my hand and yanking it off.”
    When Jory flinched and covered himself, she smiled for the first, time since entering the room. Then sighed a little as her gaze was naturally drawn downward. A shame she couldn’t find a way to keep that bit for herself. A parting gift, as it were. Ah well. She’d known it was going to end at some point. Probably much like this, with her kicking him out of her bed. She just hadn’t expected to be kicking someone else