Playing Love's Odds (A Classic Sexy Romantic Suspense) by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Alison Kent
Published: 2011-03-25T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Blueberry scented steam drifted across the kitchen. Logan kneed the oven door shut and juggled the hot muffin tin from hand to hand. Grinding out a curse, he dropped it on the stovetop and stuck his right index finger in his mouth.

What the hell was he doing? He never cooked, unless nuking a TV dinner qualified, and he certainly wasn't thrilled to find himself fixing breakfast for Hannah. It meant he was taking this case, and her, too seriously.

Yet seriously didn't begin to describe her effect on him. She was a fire in his blood, an insistent greedy flame licking away at the list of reasons demanding he keep her away. She was becoming the reason for everything he did. And he wasn't doing a damned thing to stop it.

From the time they'd reached the beach house late Monday evening until Tuesday dawn, he'd wakened her every two to three hours. He'd sat on the floor in the corner or paced the length of the small bedroom, but he'd never left her side.

Watching her sleep, he found it strange how well he knew her, yet knew her not at all. For close to six weeks he'd followed her, learned her habits, likes, and dislikes. Found out she never wore jeans or sneakers and could spend hours browsing through bookstores. Discovered she didn't eat fast food and shopped for veggies at a market two blocks west of her place. Determined her to be a loner and more than once saw a look of uncertainty cross her face.

Learned how he'd never fit into her decent, proper, straitlaced world. Wondered why he'd even considered it.

She'd napped most of Tuesday and he'd dozed fitfully on the couch. That night he'd walked the beach while she finally and truly slept—the uninterrupted sleep of the dead. That realization, even more than the nightmares, kept him awake Tuesday night. The thought of what could've happened ripped his guts to tatters. She'd been on her way to him.

Didn't she know he wasn't worth the time it took to care?

Now, rubbing the sleepy grit from his eyes, he slung a dish towel over his bare shoulder and picked up the breakfast tray. He'd feed her and send her on her way. That would be the safest course. For the both of them.

People around him got hurt, sort of like they'd spun life's roulette wheel and lost. He was a jinx and Fate was no respecter of persons. It had happened to family, friends, and people he didn't even know. His father. His brother, Simon. And worst of all, to that tiny innocent child, the one he refused to think about. He couldn't have it happen again.

He nudged the door open with his hip in time to witness a wake-up stretch so innocently erotic it made the steam from the muffins seem like arctic air. Hannah caught her hair up away from her neck and raised her elbows. The gauzy nightshirt hugged her breasts and the tray wobbled in his hands.

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