Part 275 (1/2)

sheet.

”Good. You're up.” Michael strolled in carrying a bucket of chicken and

a six-pack of c.o.kes. ”I thought you might get hungry.”

He'd pulled an LAPD T-s.h.i.+rt on with his jeans. But he was still

barefoot. To Emma he looked more like a beachcomber than a man who

would fire a gun. Before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed

her in a way that had her mind clouding again.

”Figured we could have a picnic.”

”A picnic,” she echoed. ”Where?”

”Right here.” He dropped the bucket of chicken on the bed. ”That way

the neighbors won't be shocked because you're naked.”

She laughed. ”I could get dressed.”

He sat on the bed across from her and took a long look. ”I really wish

you wouldn't.” Grinning, he twisted the top off a c.o.ke. ”Want some

music?” He leaned over and punched a b.u.t.ton on his clock radio. Linda

Ronstadt soared over ”Blue Bayou.” Getting down to business, he peeled

the top off the bucket and dug in. ”Aren't you hungry?”

The scent of the chicken was glorious. Emma watched him take a bite and

dragged a hand through her tousled hair. ”I can't eat naked.”

”Sure you can.” He held out the drumstick. She s.h.i.+fted, took a bite

then laughed again.

”Really, I can't.”

Michael dropped the chicken back in the bucket then dragged his s.h.i.+rt

off. He pulled it over her head. ”Better?”

Emma worked her arms through. ”Lots.” The s.h.i.+rt smelled of him. It

amazed her that it made her every bit as hungry as the chicken. ”I've