Morning Light Read Online Free PDF

cleft chin.
    What was it about cowboys that so many women found sexy? For the life of her, Loni couldn’t figure it out. Born and raised in the greater Seattle area, she preferred men in dress shirts, khaki slacks, and slip-on loafers. But she had to admit, if only to herself, that no man in the city had ever made her feel the way she did now. Everything about Clint Harrigan screamed “masculine,” and everything feminine within her responded.
    His truck was as rugged-looking as he was, a big, high-clearance vehicle with huge knobby tires, a long wheelbase, and a grill guard and winch attached to the front bumper. Inside the four-door cab, a gun rack hung over the rear window, a lethal-looking rifle cradled in one set of brackets. What kind of man kept a weapon in his pickup? In Washington some private citizens had permits to carry concealed, but Loni couldn’t recall a single instance when she’d actually seen a gun, unless it was holstered at the hip of a policeman or security guard.
    Unaware that he was being watched, Harrigan opened the rear door on the driver’s side of the truck, deposited his beer and frozen dinners on the seat, and then paused to slip a small, round can from the back pocket of his jeans. Loni stared in bewildered wonder as he cupped the can in the half circle of his thumb and forefinger, then sharply flicked his wrist to tap the lid. Chewing tobacco. Just the thought made her want to gag. He tucked a pinch inside his lower lip. Nasty. Didn’t he know that stuff caused mouth cancer? He wouldn’t be so handsome with half of his lower jaw surgically removed.
    He glanced in her direction just then. Oh, God. Loni dropped lower on the seat, hoping he couldn’t see her. Why, she didn’t know. She had as much right to be in the parking lot as he did. She felt like a silly adolescent girl spying on a boy. His dark eyes swept past her Suburban and then swung back. He nudged up the brim of the Stetson and seemed to stare directly at her for a second. Then he frowned, tugged the hat back down, and swung up into the truck with the ease of a man who’d mounted a horse thousands of times.
    Loni’s heart was pounding like a kettledrum. She shrank even lower on the seat as his diesel truck rumbled by. Her dream cowboy. He was real. Though she’d always known that, deep down, it still came as a shock to actually see him in the flesh.
    After he drove away Loni sat there for a long while, trying to regain her composure and right her senses. When she finally felt safe to drive, she headed straight home. Once locked inside the small house, she collapsed on the russet sofa, so exhausted she could barely move. Clint Harrigan. His image was still so vivid in her mind that she could see the crow’s-feet that fanned out from the corners of his eyes and the deep creases that bracketed his mouth.
    Two months ago, when she’d first envisioned him here in this house, her only thought had been to avoid meeting him. Now she had a far more complicated problem: how to let him know his son was in mortal danger without jeopardizing the new life she was trying to create for herself in Crystal Falls. If she spoke to him on the phone, he might have caller ID. She could try the blocking code that the phone company had sent her, but what if it didn’t work? Besides, how likely was he to believe a crazy psychic who telephoned him out of the blue? No. A face-to-face conversation would be better, only then he’d see her face. The consequences of that could be disastrous.
    Worrying about it was giving Loni a headache, so she decided to let the problem ride for a few minutes. Sometimes she did her best thinking when she let go and thought about something else.
    She pushed up from the sofa, kicked off her pumps, and walked barefoot to the kitchen. After putting the teapot on to boil, she let Hannah in from the backyard. Loose jowls wet with drool, the golden mastiff sniffed