Thief of Hearts Read Online Free PDF

all right. That was when she realized Carlotti would come after him. That was why she was here. Jared’s stunning good looks, great sense of humor and outstanding dedication to helping others had nothing to do with it. There were plenty of good looking men in the world. Gorgeous, dark-haired men with a lightning smile. With a sense of common decency that was as much a part of him as his white coat and stethoscope. Phenomenal at healing and cooking, stitching head gashes with the same hands that whipped up a perfectly fluffy omelet. Dr. Dean was nothing special. Not him.
    That surgeon, she thought with disgust. The bimbo who used him and dumped him. He’s too good for someone that idiotic.
    She slammed the pillow over her head, muffling a groan. And if he’s too good for a surgeon, she reminded herself savagely, he’s a damn sight too good for you, silly bitch .
    So the question remained: now what happens?

    Sleep. Then lunch. He hadn’t wanted to go to bed; he’d wanted to keep talking to her. She first thought it might have been because he was interested in knowing her as a person, but that was too conceited to be considered for more than a moment. No, she was interesting to him, like a virus was interesting, if dangerous. He knew she could shake up his nice little life and so he was drawn to her, the way the new kids at Juvie were drawn to the ones who graduated to robbery and murder.
    So he’d kept after her, talking to her and asking questions and telling her about himself and when she reminded him he hadn’t slept in twenty hours, he had looked stubborn and shrugged and asked her what her earliest memory was, because his was of his dad chopping onions while onion-tears streamed down his face and ever since then he’d felt kind of funny about onions, they were “the meanest vegetable”.
    Tomatoes were the nicest, so round and sweet and juicy, they were—
    She interrupted him, he argued, they bargained. He agreed to sleep for a few hours if she would let him take her to lunch when he woke. To which she agreed, looking forward to the lunch and mad at herself for looking forward to it.
    He had given her a longing look over his shoulder as he trudged to his solitary bed and she’d been ridiculously tempted to follow him and undress him and find out if he was as good at other things as he was as kissing.
    But that was madness, pure and simple and she wasn’t about to open herself up to a citizen, someone who didn’t know the first thing about survival or what she had been through. Someone who would be shocked and horrified at what she did. Someone who would wait around long enough for her to love him, then abandon her once she depended on him.
    Dr. Jared Dean was the best kisser in the world. And she didn’t intend to find out anything beyond that.

    * * * * *

    It was no use. He couldn't sleep. He pulled his pillow from beneath his head and punched it. It was too hot-- he was too hot—and Kara was too close.
    The more he tried to ignore the fact that The Delectable One was sleeping just a few feet away, the randier he got. It wasn't fair...why couldn't his bodyguard be dull and ugly? Uncomplicated and bow-legged?
    It's just because you're in a dry spell , he told himself. When was the last time you got horizontal with anybody? The last time you got some nooky, they were still debating whether Gore or Bush had won the election. Right? So just...put her out of your mind.
    Right. Sure. Piece of cake. Ha!
    As if in response to his frustration, his door creaked open with ominous slowness. Jared clutched the blanket beneath his chin and stared at the large, menacing silhouette framed in the doorway. He was a fan of horror movies, so he knew he was about to be stalked, chased, then cut in half with a table saw, only to be saved at the last minute so he could appear in the sequel. A bad sequel.

    "Leave me alone," he said to the approaching silhouette. "Go find Jennifer Love Hewitt."
    The silhouette stopped short of