Blindsided Read Online Free PDF Page B

ambiguous. Jesse replied in the spirit it was offered. “Who says I live here?”
    The soft lamplight he favored cast a golden glow over her perfect skin and the pale oval of her face. After a moment, she said, “It’s a little upscale for just a vacation home.”

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    “Thank you.”
    She flinched at the short reply, her gaze dropping to her wine glass. “Look, Mr. McCutcheon ... I mean Jesse, I realize I offended you earlier—”
    “Not offended exactly,” he interrupted. “I’m more puzzled than anything. But hey, if you don’t want to talk about yourself, that’s all right.”
    “It isn’t…” She stopped and bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh. In his oversized shirt, she looked very young, like a pretty child. The wine glass in her hand trembled. When she continued, it was with an aching dignity. “Please understand I have a very good reason, something that has nothing to do with you, for not bubbling over with details.”
    Bubbling over with details. Since he was pretty sure she’d even lied about her name, that statement was almost ludicrous. However, the pain shadowing her eyes was not. It was real, and it was uncomfortable. Taking a quick drink from his glass, he swallowed and said in a cool tone, “I guess I don’t have the same problem.
    Anyway, I don’t mind telling you I live in Chicago and own a construction company. This place is my oasis of sanity in a pretty busy life.” He smiled with as much detachment as possible. “Oh yes, I’m not married, just in case you were wondering.”
    He was definitely wondering about her.
    “Divorced?”
    He still thought she had a lot of gall to ask any questions at all, but answered readily, “Nope. Never met the right girl, I guess, if that is cliché enough for you.”
    “I’m not married either.” Her lashes were long, and as she stared downward at the glass in her hand, they left dark shadows on her cheekbones. “Never had the time.”
    But she had time to run off to northern Wisconsin and lose herself in a storm. Reaching for the wine bottle and pouring himself another glass, he ventured, “As a physician, I am sure you are very busy. You 32
    Kate Watterson
    can’t be long out of medical school. More wine?”
    “Uhm ...” Looking down doubtfully at her glass, she nodded.
    “Yes, I guess so.”
    It was fully dark outside now, giving the onslaught of the storm a distant feel. Jesse got to his feet and refilled her glass. “It’s almost dinnertime. Are you hungry?”
    She gazed up at him uncertainly. “Maybe a little.”
    He laughed. “Well, then I feel compelled to tell you something else about myself. Very personal, and very relevant.”
    “What?”
    “I am one hell of a terrible cook, so brace yourself.”

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Chapter Three
    Kerin sliced onions with a deft hand, transferring them to the frying pan via a cutting board. The rising sweet scent mingled with garlic and browning meat, filling the kitchen with delicious aromas.
    She picked up an opener and went to work on a can of tomato sauce.
    All the while, the man across the counter watched her with steady dark eyes, sitting as she had earlier on one of the stools, one long-fingered hand toying idly with his glass. The radio played softly, repeatedly interrupting a violin concerto or flute solo to announce the long lists of counties under the snow emergency and give ever rising figures on the amount of accumulation and increasing wind gusts.
    “Right now,” Jesse McCutcheon observed dryly, his elbows comfortably on the counter, “I’d be burning something. I admit back in Chicago I rarely even attempt to cook but either eat out, or pick up something on the way home.”
    “I love to cook,” Kerin admitted truthfully, stirring the sauce into the mixture. “I find it relaxing. I don’t have time to do much else that is creative.”
    “I know what you mean. Though, between big jobs, I come here to relax and fish. That’s why I bought this