Hot Attraction. Lisa ChildsЧитать онлайн книгу.
an oar in your hands?”
Her face flushed. “When I got home a little while ago, it seemed like someone had been in here. I even thought I smelled smoke.”
Smoke. His heart began to beat even harder. “You were smart to grab the oar.”
“I carried it as a weapon when I checked out the bedrooms and bathrooms.”
He groaned over the thought of what could have happened to her. “You should not have looked for the intruder,” he said. “You should have run right out of here and called the police.” Or him.
He would have come if she’d needed him.
“And reported what?” she asked. “The smoke could have come through the open sliders...” Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked toward the sliding glass doors—as if she wasn’t certain she had left them open. They were closed now; the curtains pulled over them. But through the white linen the glass glowed with the last rays of the setting sun.
Why had she shut out the sunset? Or had she been shutting out something or someone else?
“You should have at least gone back to your sister’s,” he said.
“I can take care of myself,” she said, and she was all prickly pride again as she lifted her chin.
“I took that oar away from you,” he said. And finally he released it, tossing it down onto her couch.
“After I hit you with it.”
“If you’d found an intruder, he could have taken it away from you just as easily as I did,” he said. “You shouldn’t have taken that chance.”
“Says the man who fights wildfires for a living,” she said. “Like you should talk to anyone about taking chances. Hypocrite.”
“I know what a fire can do,” he said. He’d learned at a young age—only too well—the destruction and devastation a fire could cause. “You don’t know what an intruder would have done to you.”
She shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Without her heels and fancy dress, she looked small and delicate and vulnerable.
During a wildfire, rescuing people in danger was part of his job. He wasn’t on the job tonight. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t fight his nature to protect. He couldn’t fight his attraction to Avery Kincaid, either. Silently cursing, he reached for her and pulled her close. Her body felt small and delicate against his but also soft and warm and curvy.
She trembled in his arms. Then her hands clutched the back of his shirt. Instead of pulling him away, though, she burrowed closer.
“You were really frightened,” he said, as he pulled her even closer. The thought of her being alone and scared had a pang striking his heart.
A breath shuddered out of her lips and warmly caressed his throat. “I just had the strangest feeling,” she said. “Like someone was watching me...”
Someone was outside her house. He had felt it, too.
“Who would be watching you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know...”
“You weren’t meeting anyone here tonight?”
“I already told you I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she reminded him.
“You haven’t been talking to anyone in Northern Lakes about a story?”
“Just you,” she replied, her eyes full of suspicion.
“I was at your sister’s,” he reminded her, “looking at every single little thing your nephews own.”
Her lips curved into a slight smile.
“You haven’t been talking to anyone else? No sources?”
Her brow furrowed now. “My nephews are my sources,” she reminded him. “They’re the ones who told me that you were the one who saved them.”
It sounded as though she was telling the truth. But Dawson wasn’t certain he could trust her. Reporters lied. They’d lied to him years ago. Women lied. His friends—Braden Zimmer most recently—had been through enough pain to prove that to him. But if he pressed the issue of sources, she would figure out that there was more to the fire, just as she already suspected.
“Do you have a stalker?” he asked. “An obsessed fan?”
“I don’t know if I’d call them fans,” she remarked, almost modestly. “But I have people who send stuff to the station for me. Letters. Gifts.”
Of course she did. As beautiful as she was, she probably got marriage proposals and jewelry.
“But I wouldn’t call any of them obsessed,” she said. “And not a one of them would know that I’m in Northern Lakes right now.”
Unless they were already in Northern Lakes. Like the arsonist.
But she was right. They couldn’t call the police. They had no proof that anyone had been inside her house. No evidence that anyone was watching her. Only that feeling...
One they shared.
If there had been someone inside, they might come back. Dawson couldn’t leave knowing that Avery could be in danger. It would be against his nature.
“I’m staying here tonight,” he said.
SHOCK GRIPPED AVERY. Earlier that day he had refused her kiss, but now he was calmly telling her that he was spending the night. With her. Uninvited.
Avery pulled back, tugging herself out of Dawson’s strong arms. But she immediately missed his warmth as her skin chilled again—even though it wasn’t as cold inside as when she’d first come home. She had shut the sliding glass doors and locked them. She should have locked the front door, too. So that Dawson hadn’t been able to get inside.
That was why a cry had slipped through her lips when he’d knocked. Until then she hadn’t realized she’d left it unlocked. That she’d left herself unprotected if the person who’d been inside her cottage had returned...
“What did you just say?” she asked again. Maybe she’d heard him wrong. She must have.
“I’m staying here tonight,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Do I need to hit you with the oar again?” But he’d already taken it away from her—easily. The way an intruder could have if she had actually found one inside the cottage. He was right about that.
“Maybe you should,” Dawson agreed. “I probably need to have some sense knocked into me.”
“Well, at least you know your suggestion is crazy.”
“It’s not a suggestion,” he said. “I am staying here tonight.”
“No.” She would be able to rest easier with an intruder in her house than with Dawson there. If they hadn’t been in a crowded bar when he’d kissed her earlier, she wasn’t certain what would have happened.
Or maybe she was...
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
She hadn’t felt alone—even before he’d arrived. While she hadn’t found anyone hiding in the bedrooms or baths, she’d still had that eerie feeling someone was watching her.
“Why not?” she asked. “Why do you care whether or not I’m alone?”
Her family didn’t worry about her. No matter how big the city she lived in, they trusted her to take care of herself. Her sister and parents knew how strong and determined she was. Dawson didn’t. But why would he care? He’d only just