Treasure Me by Christine Nolfi Page A

the head. When he came to his senses, he’d find the aggressive Finney standing over him. It would be his problem.
    He came up behind her, too close. The nerve endings on the back of her neck crackled. “Do you mind?” She nailed him with a nasty look. Which must have been faulty ammunition because delight sparked his inky gaze. “Back up, Hugh. You’re standing too close.”
    “I’m trying to see your eyes. It’s dark in here.”
    “Stop staring at me.”
    “Are they really violet?” He took hold of her chin, angling her face toward the Exit sign’s glow. She froze. “Wow—they are. And I’m worried your light blonde hair didn’t come out of a bottle.”
    “Why are you worried?”
    “Because if it’s real, you’re blonde all over. I’m having a heart attack thinking about it.”
    “My hair is natural.” She tried to jerk free but her feet had a mind of its own. Or minds of their own, since she had two. Think your way out of this! “Are your eyes really black?” she asked. Obviously her brain wasn’t under her powers of persuasion either.
    “Dark brown, actually. Do you like them?”
    “No.”
    What she’d like was a taste of his lips. Hugh’s mouth was incredible—full lower lip, with pearly white teeth hiding underneath. She’d gone stupid all right, but it had been a long time between relationships.
    He drew his fingers down her waist. “Do you want to have sex? A short détente before resuming hostilities?”
    “Not right now. I’m making eggs.” Did he get any action with lines like that?
    Putting her self-control into a fist hold, she rammed into the door to the walk-in cooler, swore at it then pulled the damn thing open. “Hey, I found the eggs and some veggies. How do you feel about a spinach and Swiss omelet?”
    “I’m on the fence. Am I the one cooking?”
    “No.”
    “Then I’m off the fence. Should I find a skillet?”
    “Sure.”
    He also found a light switch beside the massive sink. The glow wasn’t much but it surely wasn’t visible from out front. They’d be safe.
    “So will you tell me why you broke in here?” he asked while she whisked eggs. “I’m not prying. I’m curious.”
    “You’re more than curious.”
    That didn’t come out quite how she’d intended, and Hugh grimaced. “You got me.” He handed over the spinach. “I’m sure we’d be great in bed together. But you’re right—we should skip the fireworks.”
    “So you’re easy even when it’s not the Fourth of July?” She connected with his gaze and flushed. She began chopping up the spinach with gusto. Her self-control was already mincemeat. “Listen, I wouldn’t mind having a fling with you. But it wouldn’t stop there. You’d talk.”
    He looked offended. “I would not.”
    “I mean you’d talk in bed and expect me to share. My business is private. I’m not stupid enough to chat beneath the covers with a newspaper reporter. All I need is to find my life story in the Akron Register. ”
    “Meaning your life is a story? I’m intrigued.” He leaned against the stove as she poured the frothy eggs into the skillet. “Which is why I’d love to know why you broke into the restaurant. What were you hoping to find?”
    Turning on the heat beneath the skillet, she was aware that her private thermostat was already rising. “I thought I left something down here. I didn’t want to wait until morning to get it.”
    “Lies, foul lies.” He smirked. “Thinking of making off with the cash in the till? I wouldn’t if I were you. Finney has a temper. Think Pompeii, with people fleeing.”
    “I’ll take it under advisement.”
    She split the omelet in half and slid the pieces onto plates. Handing one over, she took a moment to look at him closely. Apparently the man was hungry—his attention hung on his meal, giving her the chance to appraise him carefully. He looked tired in some indefinable yet soul-killing way.
    “What are you doing up this late?” she asked suddenly. “Did