Legally Hot by Leigh, Lora (the best books to read TXT) 📕

She dashed across the street.

“Goddamit, Meg!”

He chased two steps after her, then he stopped, torn between staying put for the team he’d summoned to arrive or following her. His male instinct said follow her. Chase her down and then—no, he wouldn’t pursue that train of thought.

Procedure told him to remain on the scene. He could gather the evidence himself, but that meant paperwork and a whole lot of trouble for a case that may or may not be treated with the importance it was due.

No. Damn procedure—this was one time when Cody had to trust his instincts. He could arrest the little chit for jaywalking but she knew damned well he wouldn’t do that. Maybe he should show her that he had the balls to—oh yeah, he had the balls all right. But she had them in her tight little grip, damn it.

Charging up the stairs for what he needed, he determined that this invasion of his home, his girl, was personal. If that murdering sonofabitch Ivan was out, then yeah, it was personal.

Nordstrom had a vacation week, but he had not even planned to rest. He had, by circumstances and tragedy, become filthy rich—so Cody didn’t need to work to make a living.

He’d inherited his mother’s money, substantial from the sales of some produce farms down in Texas, and his father’s savings, which had amounted to a couple of million. He didn’t need to work to live; but he needed to work to feel alive.

Nobody could give him back his father or mother. Nothing could give him back all the time he’d lost, all the mistakes he’d made, not even all the millions the family had in the bank. And no matter how many cases he nailed, or how many women he took to bed instead of one, he felt empty, discontent, like fucking shit. But at least now he had a purpose.

Get that motherfucker once and for all.

He might even relish the chase, if he hadn’t messed with Megan tonight.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he remembered her words. “Next time just hug her, you idiot!”

Megan.

If I hug you I’ll lose control.

No. He wouldn’t hug her. But he’d die before another guy ever set a finger on her.

Heart pumping as adrenaline rushed through his veins, he grabbed his duffel with his spare guns, his knives, a set of extra clothes, passport, cell phones, laptop, and then drove like a shot over to her home, only a few minutes away. He called her cell phone the whole ten minutes it took him to get ready, leaving three messages ranging from, “Meg, call me, you’re in danger,” to, “Meg, pack your bags. I’m on my way.”

He checked the perimeter of her home as he arrived, then rang the doorbell three times. Relief assailed him when she called out through the intercom, “Who is it?”

“The damned hug patrol, come on! Open up.”

Meg opened, and for a moment he lost his breath, for the moonlight cast her face in an almost angelic glow. The flaring streetlights seemed to work entirely in her favor, casting a captivating shine to the lighter streaks of her hair, damp from a recent shower. The scent of peach shampoo drifted to his nostrils.

She still smelled like his childhood. And she looked like his dreams. Her hair was perfectly combed back, all wet and slick. The perfect symmetry of her face, the innocence in her eyes. She looked … like a goddess.

Like a virgin goddess that you could never have, never touch.

But he could protect her.

He could try to make up for what she’d seen, try to make sure no crazed fuck ever got near her. She would never know he loved her. He loved her so badly his gut ached.

A raging thirst to drink from her mouth consumed him. A rampant hunger to bite her skin and taste how soft and sweet it was. Calm the monster, calm the fucking monster—now.

Her blond curls were springing as she shook her head. “I’m not home.”

He cocked a brow. Oh, so she was pissed at him? Why? For doing his goddamned job? “All right then, can I leave a message for you?” he asked dryly.

She shrugged and stared down at her nails, suddenly engrossed.

“Pack your bags, Meg. You’re coming with me. If you have anything to say about it, you can say it in the car.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then she pulled the door open wider, where—aha!

There sat her bags on the foyer medallion behind her.

So she had been listening to his messages after all.

“You didn’t think I was staying alone here with Mom and Dad out of town and a killer on the loose, did you?” she asked, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

Cody flung his arms up in the air. “At last, the woman starts to make sense!”

“I’m sorry I lost it back there, Cody,” she murmured, grabbing the smaller bag as he went for the bigger suitcase. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up my phone, I was in the bathroom. I just needed to get that … name … off me. This was just not how I pictured my Friday night,” she added sadly.

Cody’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I let you go off like that. You could be in danger, Meg. From now on, you’re either with me or with a cop of my designation, but not alone, you got that?” He tossed both suitcases into the trunk of his SUV and slammed it shut for emphasis.

Padding out behind him after locking up, Meg leaned against the passenger door, watching him as he came back around, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You know, Cody, you don’t have to look so satisfied; I