Dangerous Moves by Karen Rock

Author:Karen Rock [Rock, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-10-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Blake dropped the last strip of bacon in the skillet and turned up the flame on Reese’s gas stove. The clock set above the small kitchen’s rear door read 6:00 a.m. Beyond the window, last night’s clouds moved off, leaving a dawning, purple-blue sky. He glanced at the stairwell leading from Reese’s attic room. Still empty.

He rattled the cabinet door as he pulled it open, grabbed a stainless-steel bowl, then banged it down on the large table dominating the space. He paused, cocked his head and listened.

Nothing.

Only the buzz of hummingbirds around a back-porch feeder and a cool, fragrant breeze, filtered through a nearby bed of roses, rustling a birch copse. Why was he so anxious for Reese to wake? He didn’t have a clue what to say to her after their mind-blowing encounter. Once the storm eased, they’d raced home on his bike, then up to her room where they’d made love for hours until falling asleep in each other’s arms. For once, the ever-present feeling of not belonging disappeared as he lost himself in Reese. He’d never connected this intensely with someone before, and it scared the shit out of him.

He pulled the carton of eggs from the fridge, shut the door hard with the back of his foot and stomped back to the table. He cracked them one by one. Using a whisk, he beat them thoroughly, purposefully dinging the metal instrument against the sides of the bowl.

Blake’s eyes flitted to the empty stairwell again.

Nothing.

A stream of hissing brown liquid poured from a Keurig into a carafe set on a chipped countertop. He inhaled the dark roast, his heavy lids lifting. Why had he gotten up so damn early? He pictured Reese, curved away from him in the bed. He’d woken, hungry for her. But when he’d tightened his arms around her, he’d discovered he cradled a pillow instead, a pillow she must have placed between them, separating them, the possible message:

Keep your distance.

A message he should damn well heed.

He dropped four slices of bread into the toaster, grabbed the eggs and returned to the stove. Reese threatened his sanity; she made him feel too much. Passion. Protectiveness. Caring. Once he started feeling those things, his ability to stay objective, to maintain his self-control, the rational side to his nature that defined him as a product of his upbringing, not his birth, would explode in his face.

A pat of butter dropped from his fork to the frying pan and began melting. He stirred it around, then flipped the splatting bacon, crisp side up.

He was one of the good guys. Reese, she wasn’t so easy to define, since he still didn’t know which side she stood on. Worse, she threatened to pull him from his clearly defined boundaries—and then he’d be truly lost. He couldn’t simultaneously feel the things she inspired and keep a level head as he investigated her father and his business.

Something had to give.

Butter now a golden liquid pooling in the pan, he poured the eggs and grabbed a spatula.

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