Branded Sanctuary Read Online Free PDF Page B

male, icing on a solid, dense cake of hetero sexual preference. The best of both worlds.
    Maybe he was Italian. A pretty Italian momma‟s boy without the momma‟s boy part.
    She was babbling in her own head. Not a good sign. As he straightened from the Jeep, walked toward her with a loose-limbed stride, the relaxed athlete, she had to remind herself to breathe. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her.
    Months ago, she would have blithely skipped down the steps, wrapped her arms and legs around him and given him an enthusiastic kiss. She was painfully aware of that. She also would have had a hundred things to say by now, but the images of last night crowded in, the uncertainty of where that left them today, and she couldn‟t think.

    He braced a booted foot on the bottom step. She liked the combination, scuffed black cowboy boots underneath his stressed jeans. When he‟d been at the Jeep, she‟d tried not to obviously linger on the nice presentation of his groin as he‟d leaned against the door, ankles crossed, one hand hooked in the jeans‟ pocket. The casual blazer and button-down shirt complimented the outfit, screaming sexy college professor. All his female students probably had wet dreams about him. Hell, she was feeling that response now.
    “How did you know where I lived?”
    “I have friends in law enforcement who owe me favors. You were worth calling one in.”
    Before she could untangle her tongue at that, he withdrew his left arm from behind his back. In his hand was a stuffed puppy, a Rottweiler with a floppy red felt tongue and a blue bow tied around his neck. The laugh snorted out of her like a Jack-in-the-box surprise that made her jump a little, startled at her own noise.
    “Thought you could use a guard dog.”
    “The bow kind of ruins the ferocious reputation, don‟t you think?”
    “He says he‟s as capable of being cuddly as he is of ripping someone‟s throat out.” Something a little dangerous went through his gaze, making that aroused response intensify. The tingle reminded her of a satellite photo she‟d seen of a star cluster, one solid ball of heat in her stomach, light flashes radiating out from it into the other parts of her body.
    His gaze remained on her face, making her suspect he was studying the shadows under her makeup free eyes, the lines around her mouth. “I don‟t know what to say,” she ventured.
    “Then don‟t say anything.” Sliding an arm around her waist, leaving the puppy between them, he drew her down to him. Her arms automatically threaded over his shoulders, and when he brought her close, she pressed her face into his neck and all that silky hair.
    Oh he was a dream come true, for sure. She should know better. But a part of her still wanted to be the Chloe she was months ago, who wouldn‟t question good fortune, who would embrace it wholeheartedly. She hadn‟t marked time. Instead, when something ran its course, she anticipated the next stroke of luck, beauty or happiness, rather than grieving on what had changed or passed.
    But this Chloe saw all the shadows, the dark corridors and remembered her fear of a thumping branch in the middle of the night. The sly, malicious voice in her head told her this wasn‟t real, that she was merely using this temporary shelter to hide from those things.
    Then Brendan turned his head toward hers, brushed his mouth over her lips. Not a sweet brush, but a sensual, lingering drag that came back to center and steadied as the comforting arms tightened, one hand palming the back of her head. Instead of pity, he gave her heat, a simmering, slow curl-the-toes-up-in-the-shoes heat, teasing her mouth open, tangling with her tongue so everything from chin to knees went tight, tingling, fluttery or wobbly.
    The bag slipped off her shoulder as she slid her own hands up under his arms, inside the jacket, and dug her fingers into his back through the thin stuff of his shirt. She was acutely aware of the body under the