Trick Me, Treat Me. Leslie Kelly

to keep playing the game. He’d use this mystery scenario to be more outrageous, more provocative than he might normally be with a woman he’d just met.

      Miles Stone answered, not Jared Winchester. “As for the second part of your question…what am I doing here?”

      He stepped close again, until he felt her calf brushing against his pants. She licked her lips, but didn’t step away.

      â€œYes?”

      He reached up and touched her throat, sliding his finger up to caress her earlobe as he leaned closer, until their mouths were a breath apart. Then he filled that miniscule space with a whisper. “I’m afraid if I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

      3

      IF I TOLD YOU THATI’d have to kiss you.

      Only, he hadn’t said kiss, had he? No, surely he’d said kill. But Gwen didn’t care. Kiss was what flashed in her mind. Kiss was what echoed in her brain, tempting her to be outrageous. A kiss might be daring enough to test that sexiness, that womanliness, that had eluded her since her failed engagement.

      So, kiss she did. When the possible ax murderer who’d just threatened her life leaned close until their breaths mingled, she grabbed his face and proceeded to kiss the lips off him.

      Of course, she’d known he was joking with the killing part. In spite of the aura of danger, she’d felt sure from the moment they’d started speaking that he was no threat to her. At least not physically. Mentally? Well, in that respect, she wasn’t so sure. Her libido had been on high alert all night. An unusual occurrence for a woman who hadn’t had sex in over a year.

      But she was entitled. She hadn’t done a single daring thing today. Besides, it wasn’t like she was getting engaged to a cheating bastard—again. She was just stealing a kiss. One kiss.

      Twining her fingers in his hair, she tugged him closer until their lips could meet fully. He tasted dangerous and delicious. She didn’t get too serious, just slid her lips against his, letting them part the tiniest bit, but no further. His body was close, a thin aura of awareness the only thing separating them. He made no effort to pull her tighter, letting her take what she wanted.

      So she took. Without thought, without common sense, with only a bit of Halloween-and-moonlight-inspired madness.

      Finally, after what could have been five seconds or five minutes, she pulled her mouth away. She felt no embarrassment. She’d kissed a stranger. Not a big deal in the scheme of things, right? She hadn’t robbed a bank, or fled from the police or been around during a shootout. Unlike some members of her family.

      â€œOkay,” she said with a soft sigh.

      â€œOkay?” he asked, looking surprised—but not displeased.

      â€œYes. That was my one impulsive act for the day.”

      â€œThat was it, huh?”

      She nodded. “Yep. One a day’s my quota.”

      He frowned. “Too bad.” Reaching up, he traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. “But, you know, it’s only an hour until midnight. Wanna stick around and see what impulse you feel like giving into tomorrow?”

      Naughty. Very naughty. She liked that about him. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten it out of my system. One kiss was all I needed.”

      â€œThat’s like saying all you need is one piece of rich, decadent chocolate.” His voice thickened. “Some things just scream to be tried again.”

      She nibbled her lip. He was right. With some things, one was never enough. And this man’s kisses could be more addictive than chocolate. “I’ve done enough trying for one night. At least now, if you end up killing me, I’ll die after having enjoyed a nice kiss.”

      He tsked. “I only kill bad guys.”

      Though she suspected he was teasing, his voice sounded somewhat serious. “I’m not a bad guy.”

      â€œNo, you’re the mysterious, sultry, kissable innkeeper whose story I don’t yet know.” He spoke so strangely, playfully almost, fitting in with the surreal mood she’d felt all night.

      â€œI don’t have a story.”

      He brushed a long tendril of hair off her face, his fingertips lingering on her temple. “Everyone has a story.”

      â€œWhat’s yours?” She clarified. “Or, at least, what of yours can you tell me without needing to do me in?”

      He laughed softly, and her breath hitched at the low, resonant sound. She liked the way this man sounded as much as she liked the way he looked.

      â€œMaybe I don’t have a story, either.”

      â€œYou have ‘story’ written all over you.”

      â€œToo bad it’s not in braille,” he said, all flirtatious charm. A twinkle in his eye dared her to follow his meaning.

      She did…and chuckled. “Okay, Mr. Stone, you’re very entertaining, but I do like to know something about the men I stumble over in darkened kitchens and kiss against their will.”

      â€œWho said it was against my will?”

      â€œYou certainly didn’t ask for it,” she pointed out.

      â€œI didn’t ask the cheerleading squad at my high school to flash me and my buddies, either.” He grinned. “Some things you want are just obvious.”

      â€œLike that second piece of chocolate,” she admitted, conceding the point. Then a gentle warmth spread through her as she focused on the want part of his statement. He wanted her. Or he’d at least wanted her kiss. So, she wasn’t the only one affected by the seductive atmosphere in the air tonight.

      Trying to turn this strange encounter into something more normal, she stepped away from him and walked to the huge storage freezer. Opening it, she pulled out a tray of frozen pumpkin muffins. After she’d set it on the counter, she glanced over her shoulder, aware that he watched every move she made.

      â€œBreakfast?”

      She nodded. “You are staying the entire weekend?”

      â€œYes.”

      She wondered if he could tell she was pleased. Then she sighed. “We’ve got a full house. It’s going to be busy. I’m sure I’ll be dead tired by Sunday night.”

      He laughed, as if she’d made a joke. “Right. Dead tired. I probably will be, too.” Though she raised an inquiring brow, he didn’t elaborate. “So, who else is here for this holiday weekend? Just who is sleeping in this house tonight, other than the innkeeper, the ex-movie stars…and me?”

      She nibbled her lip as she thought about it, trying to remember everyone who’d checked in. So many faces—some familiar, but some having come into Derryville for only this one event. A weekend magazine mention of the new haunted inn had appeared in a Chicago paper in time to get them several last-minute reservations. People appeared willing to travel a long way to spend a night in a haunted house on October 31. A spooky B & B was perfect for grown-ups who wanted to give in to their deep-rooted need to revisit childhood and scare themselves silly on Halloween. Without giving up pampering and comfort, of course.

      â€œWell, in addition to the older couple, there’s a pretty young doctor,” she said, remembering the woman she’d shown to the Lady in Red room. “Someone who says he’s an archeologist, and one woman who works at a museum. An older man