A Place to Call Home Read Online Free PDF

these temperatures. Now she’d made a fool of herself in front of the one man who had piqued her interest in years.
     
    Her head ached, and her body twitched in more places than she could count. Probably from a combination of falling through the floor, rolling down the stairs and landing under Mac’s muscular body, and later fainting with heat stroke. But somehow she didn’t think those were the only reasons her body felt funny. And how could she explain the butterflies in her tummy?
     
    Daring to look at the hulking man sitting next to her, she found her other answer. Yes, Mac had indeed stirred her body in private places she hadn’t used in eons—other than with her trusty vibrator. How did this one man possess the ability to heat her flesh faster than a sauna? Her brain screamed for her to steer clear while her body begged for a chance to feel all of him. After being placed on a concussion watch until tomorrow, how could she even think of his naked body covering hers? Oh, hell, thoughts like this only added to the pounding in her skull so she laid her head back onto the headrest again.
     
    Mac parked in a driveway of a two-story, tan clapboard house. The property appeared well maintained, the lawn mowed, the shrubs trimmed, no peeling paint.
     
    When Mac came around the truck and lifted Hannah into his arms to carry her inside, she wanted to protest but her bones felt like liquid and exhaustion overwhelmed her. She gave in to being cared for by this strong stranger who had now rescued her twice in one day. Her head rested on his shoulder when he made his way into the house.
     
    Inside, noise overwhelmed her. A television blared, the dog barked, and three boys, all talking at once, surrounded them in the kitchen. Hannah quickly surveyed the spotless room with its stainless steel appliances, beige tile floor, recessed lighting, dark granite counter, and a large picture window facing the driveway. The open floor plan connected the dining room and parlor creating one large room. The dining room contained a long cherry wood table, six high back matching chairs, a chandelier with crystal raindrops hanging over the table, and nothing more. It appeared to serve only one purpose—to feed the family, not to entertain. “Boys, quiet. Turn off the TV. Porkchop, shut up,” Mac bellowed.
     
    The middle child ran into the living room to shut off the television. From her vantage point high in Mac’s arms, Hannah tracked the boy’s movements while he obeyed his father’s instructions. He scurried past a long brown couch and two oversized brown armchairs, and arced around a cherry wood coffee table centered amid the furniture. The boy switched off the large flat screen TV and sped back to the kitchen.
     
    By the time the child joined his siblings, silence filled the room.
     
    Hannah stared at the kids, horrified to find three pairs of deep blue eyes identical to Mac’s locked on her.
     
    With no sign of tiring, Mac continued to hold Hannah in his arms while he faced his kids. “Boys, this is Hannah O’Leary. She’s new to town and had a really rough day. So we’re going to be quiet and let her rest.”
     
    “She’s staying here, Daddy?” the youngest boy asked.
     
    “Yes, Luke. For tonight. She’s a guest, so everyone’s on their best behavior. Aidan, go to Catherine’s. Be home by ten.”
     
    “Thanks, Dad. Nice to meet you, Ms. O’Leary.” Aidan eyed her curiously. For a young man, he stood about six feet, she guessed. His athletic build showed tender muscles budding under his sleeveless t-shirt. With his short black hair neat and his blue eyes bright and bold, he looked like a young version of Mac.
     
    “Hannah. Please just call me Hannah.”
     
    “Sure,” he said. “Hannah.” Pivoting on his heel, he strode toward the front door. “Later, dudes.”
     
    “Ten o’clock!” Mac called to his son’s retreating back.
     
    The front door slammed closed.
     
    Mac faced the other boys. “Okay,