Read Online Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance) by LISA CHILDS - Free Book Online Page B

“…with you.” The especially was unsaid but embarrassingly obvious from his tone.
    She flinched even though she had already guessed he wasn’t really attracted to her. But he kept looking at her. Even now when he was supposed to be resting his eyes, he studied her face. And not just her face. His gaze skimmed down her body, as well. As a secretary, she didn’t have to wear a uniform to work. Since Forest Glen was pretty laid-back, she didn’t have to dress up, either. She wore dark jeans and a green sweater in a thin fabric that clung to her breasts.
    Her skin tingled in reaction to that intense stare of his. “Then maybe you should have had Eleanor drive you home.” For both their sakes.
    â€œYeah, I should have,” he agreed with embarrassing haste. “But I wanted to talk to you. About Tommy.”
    She tightened her rein on her temper. He’d just been hurt, so she was not going to get mad at him. Calmly but firmly, she said, “I am not going to tell you about his father.”
    â€œI want to talk about Tommy,” he repeated. “I meant what I said the other day in the sporting goods store. I’d be happy to spend some time with him.”
    With her son, but not her.
    â€œYou think he’d be happy with just any old guy?” she asked.
    â€œI’m not old,” he said, his voice a little sharp as if he’d taken offense.
    She spared a glance from the road to his handsome, albeit battered, face and sniffed in reluctant agreement.
    â€œAnd he doesn’t want to play catch with a girl,” he reminded her, his mouth curving into a teasing grin. “I went ahead and bought that baseball glove.”
    â€œI appreciate your offer,” she said honestly. Her son could use a man in his life for however long Chance Drayton stuck it out in Forest Glen. “I’ll ask Tommy.”
    â€œHe’s talking to you?”
    She smiled with pride. “He’s too sweet-natured to stay mad at me.”
    â€œWhat about me?” Chance asked.
    Her son’s opinion of him mattered to the ex-Marine. Jessie’s breath slipped out in a soft gasp. The man was nearly too good to be true.
    â€œShow him your scars,” she said. She’d overheard him and Christopher discussing how the former soldier must have several of them.
    â€œI don’t have any scars,” he said, then grimaced as he leaned across the console and glanced at his face in the rearview mirror. “Well, not from Afghanistan.”
    â€œThat’s good—given what you must have gone through,” she said with sympathy and curiosity.
    â€œYou don’t want to talk about your past. I don’t want to talk about mine.”
    â€œI understand.” But she didn’t. Not really. She couldn’t imagine what he must have experienced. “Tommy might not be as understanding,” she warned him. “Boys like hearing war stories.”
    He sighed. “Then I’m going to have to give him the same line you do—that he’s too young to hear any of my war stories.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said and lifted one hand from the wheel to reach across to him. Because his arm was wounded, scraped and burned from the air bag, she touched his leg instead. The muscles of his thigh tensed beneath her fingers, and she jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
    His breath shuddered out. “Jessie…”
    Her hands shaking, she steered the car into his driveway and put it into Park. Then she turned to him. She couldn’t mistake the look in his eyes, the heat of desire.
    He reached across the console now and slid his fingertips along her jaw, lifting her face to his. “You’re not interested,” she reminded him.
    â€œI never said I wasn’t interested,” he clarified. “I just don’t want to get involved with you.”
    â€œI don’t want to get involved with