Courted by Karma (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) Read Online Free Page A

in the winter in such flimsy shoes. He was so insistently stubborn over my protests I’d be fine, I impatiently relented or I knew we’d never leave.
    Without much thought, I placed a foot on his kneeling thigh for him to unclasp the glittering buckles of the ankle straps on my new stiletto-heeled sandals. I held onto his giant head for balance. He kept shouting at me to quit pulling his hair. Laughing helplessly, I was stumbling around while he guided my bare feet into the winter boots he’d found somewhere in my closet. He didn’t even have to unlace the thick laces running up their sturdy front.
    Muttering under his breath about ‘illogical, impulsive women that do not use the brains they are born with’, he placed the exquisite black sandals in the open backpack, but not before closely examining their sparkling, crystal-studded heels.
    “ I would approximate these have to be a minimum of five inches tall!” He whistled under his breath. Chasing facial expressions left me in no doubt of his thoughts. There was fascinated horror that women torture themselves wearing such high heels. This was soon followed by calculating male speculation. My new shoes scream sex and it was nearly one in the morning.
    Crookie is too polite to actually come right out and ask what I’m up to. My answer to his inquisitive stare was an enigmatic little smile. Pointedly ignoring his disappointed expression, I closed the backpack and passed the bulging bag over to his outstretched hand to carry.
    We turned for the door and both stopped dead in our tracks.
    Mike McClain was standing in the hallway at the entrance to my closet. A hand that held a white satin and lace thong was idly scratching his bare chest. His eyes were bleary, but his smile was wide while he looked from me to Crookie, and then back to me again.
    Mike’s skin was winter pale over his attractively muscled chest and arms. I couldn’t help notice it appeared smooth like unblemished marble, except for the light smattering of dark hair across his pectorals. That chest hair hadn’t been there when I last saw him shirtless a decade ago. For that matter, his muscles hadn’t been so cut back then, either. A corporate lawyer, my old boyfriend obviously didn’t let a busy practice prevent him from spending time in the gym. Mike had grown up nicely to be one hunk of burning beefcake.
    I glanced up from my thoughts when he spoke. “All the running around and the crazy laughing woke me up. Where’s everybody going?”
    At least, that’s what I think he said because his words were really slurred. I giggled at Mike’s hair in a spiky rooster-do on one side of his head, and at Crookie’s hanging jaw.
    “Umm …hi Mike,” Crookie finally answered, after throwing me an astonished, questioning look. “What are you doing here?”
    “I don’t really know, Bob, I just woke up in Bel’s bed.” He yawned so widely that I saw tonsils. Ignoring the thong wrapped around his hand, Mike cracked his knuckles and smiled toothily. He was rocking lightly on his feet.
    Mike’s eyes crinkled at the corners adorably when he smiled. “Hiya, Bel!”
    I smiled back. “Hiya, Mike.” In an aside to Crookie, I marveled, “Can you believe it? After you left, Mike hit the bottle tonight for the first time in ten years! He passed out on my bed and I forgot he was here.”
    His eyes glued to the thong, t his explanation only increased the astonished expression on Crookie’s face. I didn’t provide him further details or want to remind Mike of what happened earlier. I was in a hurry.
    “Mike, there’s somewhere I have to be, so you need to go home, okay?”
    “Oh .” Mike’s exaggerated frown said that he didn’t like something about my statement, but he appeared too drunk to think coherently. Soon he was grinning again. ‘Okay, Bel, whatever you say!”
    Crookie pointed a hand at Mike’s chest. “Mike, where is your shirt?” He murmured peevishly to me, “Does anybody wear shirts