Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

rodent.”
    “Probably.”
Definitely.
    Gracie’s
heart and stomach felt hollow, despite the brave face she paraded for Gran’s
benefit. At some point between moving in with Baxter last year and discovering
the full scope of his betrayals last week, her self-confidence had weakened to
the consistency of wet tissue paper.
    She took
her seat at the table. “I’m sure I’ll be better off concentrating on my
patients instead of letting myself be sidetracked by some man.”
    “Speaking
of men who’d like to sidetrack you...” Gran settled into a chair across from
Gracie. “I saw Clayton at the hospital this afternoon. He said he’d stop by
here after his evening rounds.”
    “Great, I
have something important to tell him. You’ll never guess who—” The ding-dong of
the doorbell interrupted her news. Both women glanced at the Regulator clock on
the wall, and then exchanged quizzical looks. “Expecting someone?”
    “Just
Clayton. But he wouldn’t ring the bell or come in through the front.”
    “And it’s
too early for him.” Gracie jumped up. “You sit. I’ll get it.”
    MacDuff
went bounding down the hall in front of her. The outside lights were still on,
and Gracie peeked out the sidelight. If she hadn’t known Dylan Bradford was in
the neighborhood, she might have believed it was her best friend standing in
the shadows of the wide porch with his back to her.
    Going by
size and shape alone, the tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, man waiting
there could have been Clay’s twin. But Dylan carried himself with an assurance
that her friend’s abandoned-child insecurities would never let him duplicate.
And from a purely objective standpoint, Dylan had a way better ass.
    Squelching
the observation beneath a world of misgivings, Gracie pulled the door open.
Dylan turned toward her, and she got her first full-length, full-frontal view
of him.
    And what a
view! Wow! Her heart went zing. Except that reaction would be physically
impossible. She would not allow herself to generate such a cartoon-ish
reaction. Her gaze traveled over his brooding, upscale, male-model good looks.
She searched, praying for flaws. Warts or moles or jagged scars. Anything unsightly would do.
    Nope. None.
Blond, sun-streaked hair in artless disarray, chiseled jaw with just the right
touch of grunge, the beginnings of a goatee rimming a perfectly shaped mouth,
and deep blue eyes that flashed heat and commanded attention.
    And to say
he had on a sweater and jeans would be like saying Pavarotti could carry a
tune.
    More than a
few lambs had provided the soft wool for the garment that covered his wide
shoulders and chest. And she knew from shopping with Baxter that the designer
denim molding itself to Dylan’s long, muscular legs cost more than the blue
book value of her poor, dead car.
    But he
apparently didn’t like being studied any more than she’d liked it earlier. His
clenched jaws rippled as if he were cracking walnuts with his molars. Dropping
the leather duffel bag he carried, he leaned over to greet MacDuff, effectively
ending her inspection.
    The dog
licked Dylan’s fingers like they were covered in hamburger, but his interest
soon waned and he moved on to sniffing the bag. Straightening, Dylan stuck his
hands in his back pockets and lifted his lips into a cajoling smile.
    “The
cabin’s uninhabitable.” He proffered the information as though it was the
latest stock tip. “I need a place to stay.”
    “Too bad.”
Gracie’s primary goal was to get rid of him before Clay arrived. Disobliging
the spoiled playboy at the same time was just a bonus. “There’s a motel out on
the highway if you need a place to stay.”
    “You said
this place is a bed and breakfast. What about here?”
    Because Clay will be here any second . “We aren’t open for
the season.”
    “I just
need a room for one night. Someplace to sleep and plug in my laptop. It doesn’t
have to be perfect. I’ll clear out first thing in the morning.”