Can't Say No Read Online Free PDF

there’s no one,” he said unbelievingly. “You just decided to take off for here, looking like a model for an urban magazine, playing some game about not talking, coping as well as a lost toddler in a circus…I don’t know why I’m asking this, but do you at least have food in the place?”
    She nodded.
    “So you don’t even have a box of crackers. Wonderful, ” he said flatly.
    All of this just had to stop. Options flounced through her brain, most of them far too good for him. Nailed up by his thumbs. Boiling in oil. Tickled to death by African ants.
    A very tiny corner of her brain acknowledged a wayward and totally incomprehensible attraction to him. Or maybe it was just that he intrigued her. Most men she knew backed off at a frown. Hart probably wouldn’t back off for a bulldozer.
    The vibrations warned her that he was a dangerous man, but he strode forward with an innocuous smile, hooking an arm around her shoulder before she could blink. When she failed to move forward, his arm swept down and his palm lightly tapped her fanny. She definitely stepped forward then. The sexual voltage was undeniable, and as wanted as a toothache.
    “If you’re going to keep up this silent act, I don’t see you coping with a grocery store. Let’s get you inside and make out a food list, and then you can crash. You lasted pretty well during the drive, I’ll give you that. I was worried about you at the airport, but the spark is definitely back in your eyes.” He paused at the door, then pushed it open.
    Gram had never kept the cabin locked up. Why bother? This wasn’t robber territory. There was nothing to steal.
    There was also very little protection against a man who had suddenly developed an ominous scowl.

Chapter Three
    Hart glared first inside the cabin, and then back at her. One hand rested loosely on his hip; the other pushed a shock of hair from his forehead as if he just couldn’t take much more. His voice erupted in a throaty growl. “You’re actually planning on living in this place? In the shape it’s in? I really don’t believe this.”
    That was it. Something clicked in Bree. She’d put up with his insensitivity over her nightmare; she’d taken his insulting comments about her cuddling sleep habits; she’d tolerated his yawning over the speeding ticket that was entirely his fault. But there was no way she was going to sit still and hear that man malign Gram’s cabin. Slamming her purse on a dusty wood table, Bree unsnapped the top of her ballpoint pen and bent over to scribble furiously on a notepad.
    Hart was leaving, whether he knew it or not. And if he ventured one more amused comment about her inability to talk, he would leave with the iron frying pan, preferably connected to his head.
    “I love it,” a husky baritone announced.
    Her writing hand wavered. Scowling, she glanced up. Hart had taken his jacket off and was holding it with two fingers over one shoulder. His other hand was in his pocket, absently jangling change. The white shirt clung to his chest and wide shoulders, and the suit pants seemed to have been purposely tailored to show off his flat rear end and muscular legs. Everything about him shouted sexual animal.
    Rationally, she said to herself, So what? Irrationally, there was a very stupid pulse in her throat that went ping when Hart’s head suddenly whipped around and his lazy dark eyes settled in on hers.
    “Everything in this place is a hundred years old or more, isn’t it?” he asked.
    She nodded warily.
    “It’s like going back in time. You’re a history buff?”
    She nodded again. Hart wandered, one hand slipping from his pocket occasionally to finger an object in the room. “Fascinating.”
    Gram had lived in the cabin until two years ago, when Bree’s parents had whisked her off to a South Bend apartment where she was close to medical facilities—and their watchful eyes. Her home, though, had always been here.
    The cabin consisted of the main room, a loft and a