Read Online Eden's Spell by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B

Balancing Katrina effortlessly, Mike reached for the hardier, wooden door, holding it with all his strength until they were inside, then pulling it shut before the wind could grasp it.
    And then, just for a second, he stood there, silently surveying the house: the warm living room with its beige tones and oranges and Mexican tile flooring, the fireplace, the dining room with its immense Spanish oak table, the huge seascape on the wall, the softball and soccer trophies that lined the mantel, and the pictures that resided between them.
    Then he looked down at Jason. “Where’s your mother’s bedroom?”
    â€œI’m all right—” Katrina began, starting to struggle from his hold. But she wasn’t. She was water-logged and frozen and miserable, and her middle hurt as if there were knives in it.
    â€œThis way,” Jason said.
    Shivering in misery, Katrina closed her eyes. She didn’t want this man in her bedroom. Not because of him; because of her. Because she barely knew him, and she had made him part of a fantasy that should have belonged to James.
    It was too easy to think of him as a man. Flesh and blood, muscle and tone and silver-and-steel eyes and a voice that was deep and husky, compelling …
    Oh, God, what was wrong with her?
    She opened her eyes and found herself lying on her bed. Ridiculously, she was glad that it was made, glad that the house was clean and neat, that her clothing was all picked up and away.
    â€œWe’ve got to get this thing off—” he was saying, and ridiculously, once again, she found herself grasping the soaked slicker and muttering, “No!”
    She heard his vast sigh of impatience and felt like a stubborn two-year-old.
    â€œMrs. Denver, I am a physician, and if you’ve got broken ribs, we’ve got a problem to handle.”
    Then Jason was at her side, holding her hand, grinning down at her, both concerned and mischievous.
    â€œCome on, Mom, behave! Maybe he’ll even give you a balloon or a lollipop after the examination.”
    She turned crimson and shot her son a quick, warning glare. But he was laughing, and Mike was laughing, and suddenly, it seemed good just to hear them laugh.
    She sat up and let them both pull away her slicker, and then the white terry robe she had snatched from Taylor’s cabin floor.
    â€œNow, that’s it!” she protested, but Mike was way ahead of her, smooth and calm and cool.
    â€œIt should suffice—for now.”
    She felt his hands, grazing just beneath her breast, gentle, so very gentle. Large hands, long, tapering fingers, moving with care, touching her to the soul. Sliding along her ribcage, so thoroughly, so lightly that they didn’t even hurt her bruised flesh.
    He grinned. “I can’t find any breaks or cracks.” He shrugged. “But be a little careful, huh?”
    Katrina, seeing his eyes, feeling his eyes, just nodded. But then she murmured, “I’ve got to have a shower; the water lines will probably go with the storm and—”
    â€œNo shower. A careful bath.” He looked at Jason. “Will you pour your mother a bath, Jason? Then take a shower yourself, and fill the tub and—”
    â€œI know, I know!” Jason interrupted good-naturedly. “We get lots of storm warnings here, sir. We’re all prepared for a hurricane. This is a hurricane isn’t it?”
    â€œFeels like it,” Mike agreed. “I’ll see what I can get on the TV or radio as soon as I get the shutters down. Okay, Jason? Let’s get started.”
    He was up, moving toward the door. Jason was heading toward her bathroom. She felt outnumbered, as if the men had decided that the fragile little woman was out of the way and they could get on with things!
    She wasn’t fond of the feeling. She had fought alone for far too long to be shoved aside.
    But Mike had been there when she needed him—really needed him. When Jason had been