Home Is Where the Heat Is Read Online Free PDF Page A

darkened living room, heart racing, as a beam from the streetlight pierced the protective blackness. Where’s that coming from?
    She yanked at a cord, and the blinds cascaded shut with a metallic clang. She dragged the heavy curtains closed, then searched for something to cover up the peephole.
    Claire ripped the back off a legal pad and taped it to the door, then backed up to survey her work and tripped over the coffee table.
    “Ow! Gotta light some candles.” She groped across the room, palming the wall until she reached her bedroom. Once there, she flipped a light on long enough to grab half a dozen candles and some matches, which she placed in secure locations—enough light to navigate the living room, but not escape the house.
    A vehicle pulled into the driveway as she lit the last candle. The engine hummed for a couple of minutes, then switched off. The door slammed; footsteps slapped on concrete.
    And now he wanted to bail? He’d put her at risk the moment he called her name in the parking garage. She’d sealed their fate by acknowledging him. Letting him in her house seemed like a minor infraction.
    “The damage is done, so we might as well relax and enjoy it,” she said.
    “Relax. Riiight.”
    Claire sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her, hoping he wouldn’t take this as blatant come-on. He accepted her invitation and slid close. Somehow during her mission to hide the kitchen, she’d snagged a couple of takeout menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”
    He flipped open the pamphlet from The Sticky Wok. “I hung drywall in this place years ago. I’m surprised it’s still here.”
    She leaned close and read over his shoulder. The scent of warm soap and hot man swept over her. Sweat sheened her skin. He’d taken a shower. Why hadn’t she? “Their shrimp eggrolls are the best I’ve ever tasted. Want some?”
    “I’m allergic to shrimp.”
    “Bummer. Should we get pizza instead?”
    “No, go ahead and order them. I’ll get the Kung Pao chicken.” He leaned back and draped his arm along the couch, circling his fingertips on her shoulder as if to reassure her.
    She pulled out her phone and keyed in the number, watching JT from the corner of her eye. He stared toward the kitchen while she gave the restaurant her address, phone number, and their choice of entrees. “…shrimp eggrolls and cream cheese wontons, please.”
    He smiled and stroked her sweater.
    “Thank you.” She hung up and caught him studying the kitchen again. “Something wrong?” Is someone watching us? Did I close the blinds in there?
    “Huh?” He blinked. “No, I just noticed the crack in your wall.”
    She turned and spotted the jagged hairline running from floor to ceiling along the entrance to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s been there forever, before I moved in.” When she remembered his experience with construction, she got goose bumps. “Is it a problem? Is the ceiling going to cave in?”
    He smiled and shook his head. “No. Just a bad tape job. A little spackle and paint will fix it.”
    “Oh good, I’ll tell my landlord.” She leaned back beside him, and his hand brushed her breast as it slid down her arm. God, that felt good. “Do you always notice building flaws?”
    “Occupational hazard.” He squeezed her shoulder and rubbed her arm. “Do you always hang out with disobedient jurors?”
    She snuggled against him. “Never. I’m a good girl.”
    JT dropped his head back on the couch and laughed. “No, you’re not. You look all cute and innocent in this fuzzy sweater, but you must know it was made to be touched.” His impudent fingers slipped down and under the soft garment to caress her skin. “And so are you.”
    She stretched, granting his hand more freedom. Okay, that’s a come-on. Her no-sex-on-the-first-date rules wrestled with her exhibitionist nature. The urge to strip off her sweater and give him an unobstructed view of her fabulous breasts crumpled under the need to keep her clothes on