Read Online Can't Say No by Jennifer Greene - Free Book Online Page B

followed it.
    Hart. Unmistakably.
    Heart still thundering, Bree frantically untwisted the sheet and groped for a robe. There wasn’t one. Naturally. She hadn’t anticipated needing a robe or a nightgown; she’d gone to bed naked because the night had been hot. There was certainly no reason not to, when she was positive she had bolted both doors.
    “Bree.”
    She tripped on the quilt, trying to reach the wardrobe in the dark.
    “Honey. You really shouldn’t try my patience at two in the morning. At the count of ten, I’m coming up.”
    Her fingers frantically touched cotton, polyester, linen, silk and finally the quilted fabric of her robe, grabbing it from its hanger. Hurriedly wrapping the short garment around her, she rushed barefoot to the loft stairs, groggily aware of a dim, flickering light below.
    She took one step down, and two more—enough to be able to bend over and look, blinking hard. The tears were already dried on her cheeks, forgotten; and if her body was still trembling slightly, she put it down to rage.
    “Now, let’s not panic. I put on my pants, see? Nothing to get nervous about. Get down here,” he ordered irritably.
    Nothing to get nervous about? A double sleeping bag was spread out on the floor by the wood stove. Two candles were flickering in tin lanterns. The rich bride cake she’d spent the evening making was still on the kitchen table—but had a distinct and massive dent in it. And an almost-naked man was glowering at her from the bottom of the wooden steps—and never mind his jeans.
    Hart’s massive chest was bare, his shoulders the color of hot gold by candlelight, his chest sprayed liberally with silvery curling hairs. His hair was tousled, his cheeks dark with stubble and his midnight eyes glinted at her like wet blue stones. The civilized veneer was gone; he could have been a mountain man, as primitive and amoral and rough as any of the hermits who stalked the back hills carrying their shotguns.
    “Honey, don’t climb down a flight of stairs in a robe that short for anyone else, would you?”
    He lowered his head. She scrambled down several more steps, even though she never for a minute believed he could see what he was claiming to see. “What the devil do you think you’re doing here? How did you get in?” The questions tried to tumble from her lips, but though her mouth moved, she had no voice at all.
    For a moment, there was no sound at all in the cabin. Hart just looked at her, his eyes rambling with devilty over her wildly curling hair, the faint dampness on her cheeks, the vulnerable pallor of her face by candlelight. Bree flushed, for no reason, tucking the robe closer around her in a protective gesture that produced a desultory smile from Hart.
    “Unfortunately, I finished the hooch when I came in. I checked around—thought you’d at least have a beer in the fridge, but no. Not even wine. God save us from teetotalers,” Hart said disgustedly. “I can hardly believe we’re stuck with milk.”
    He disappeared through the open door of the lean-to, and Bree let out an impossibly huge sigh, combing her fingers hurriedly through her hair. He was such an exasperating man…yet in some murky corner of her head, she wasn’t totally miserable about his being here. The ache in her heart lessened, the post-nightmare trembling had stopped…Every time Hart was around she was too busy being furious to feel depressed.
    “You left your window screens unlocked. Doesn’t do much good to bolt all the doors when a bear could push a paw through the screen and get in.” He returned from the lean-to and thrust a glass of milk in her hand. A lazy grin split his face; that teasing smile below intensely dark eyes still seared on hers from above. “Now, don’t throw it, honey—not that I’d really mind. Milk may be a bitch to clean up, but I’ll take that look in your eyes any day over the way you looked a few minutes ago. So you had another little nightmare, did you? More