Fight or Flight Read Online Free PDF Page A

of bills on the left-hand shelf, but there was nothing unusual there. The phone bill was still sealed.
    She carefully slid open the top drawer. A small case of disks, three loose CD-Rs—the kind you got free with a new computer—a ruler and a sticky pad. The bottom drawer, file sized, was locked.
    Interesting. Was he in the habit of locking things even though he lived alone, or was there something he didn’t want her to see if she went snooping?
    In any event, there was nothing to find here. She continued into the kitchen and shoved open the window. The drawers and cabinets revealed a typical selection of mismatched utensils and plates and microwaveable food. The only odd thing was that he didn’t have a junk drawer.
    There was an empty dining room and a half bath looking disturbingly clean for a bachelor male. Maybe he’d cleaned it in case she used it while he was away. She hesitated between the bottom of the stairs and the front door. Up or out? She had no reason to go up except nosiness. And that was hardly sufficient.
    But with the exception of the locked drawer, the house felt staged to her. Like a model home, or one prepared to sell. Or a fake one. This house told her nothing about the guy who lived here. She had a duty to herself and her daughter to do everything possible to protect them. Right?
    “Right, Regan,” she muttered as she started up the stairs. “This is a bit much, even for you.” For two years, he hadn’t given her reason to suspect him. And if he was hiding something, he wouldn’t have given her access to his house.
    But she couldn’t help herself.
    The first room was his bedroom, and as soon as she set foot in it, she realized it wasn’t suspicion drawing her up here. His scent surrounded her, even after a week of his being gone, and she hadn’t even been aware that she knew what he smelled like. Heat, and mown grass, and something smelling like nothing else except Tyler Sloane. She inhaled, then gasped in horror at her body’s response. A surge of desire, an urge to prowl…
    Hell , no.
    She abandoned her self-guided tour and ran down the stairs, grabbing her keys and her own mail off the hall table as she wrenched open the door and pulled it closed behind her.
    Thank God he was coming home tonight.
    That thought could be interpreted in more ways than one, and she slammed the brakes on the list her brain started to make.
    As if to admonish her further, Alan pulled into her driveway behind her truck. She crossed the grass to him, smiling, but the smile faded when she saw the look on his face.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked when he emerged from the sedan. He didn’t answer but glowered at the house behind her, and she understood. She wasn’t about to indulge his jealousy, especially given the feelings she’d just dealt with. She didn’t give him a chance to respond.
    “I just have a few things in the truck to bring in, and we can figure something out for dinner,” she said.
    Alan’s face cleared and he bent to kiss her. “I’ll help.” Ever efficient, he opened the back of the Highlander and collected her gym bag, a box of fliers she needed to fold for the fitness center, her lunch box and two bags of dry groceries she’d bought at lunch. Nothing remained for her to carry.
    “You busy?” he asked, eyeing the fliers.
    “No, they don’t have to be done tonight.”
    “Good.” He gave her a significant look she ignored, leading him around to the back door.
    “I’ll put these away.” Alan deposited most of her things on the kitchen island and lifted the bag of toiletries bound for her bathroom. “I know where they go.”
    Regan only said thanks. Since Kelsey left, Alan had been trying to pamper her by doing these little things. Arguing with him about her capability would just make her look stubborn and overly independent and reinforce his opinion that she needed someone to take care of her. For some reason, the harder a woman worked, the more everyone else believed she