Blindsided by Tes Hilaire Read Free Book Online Page A

wide plump lips that begged to be kissed. The delicate nose and slightly triangular face may have been more feminine and refined, but was set between wide hazel eyes and seductively arched brows. The only thing that wasn’t perfect was the slight blankness in her gaze. As if she didn’t want to be here. Then why was she?
    Probably selling something; robo-vacs, insurance, Girl Scout cookies…religion.
    He rubbed his face, wishing he had his com bud in. It would be really handy right now to have Garret whispering in his ear telling him things like how this woman knew his name. Though Garret hadn’t seemed to know. He’d called the woman some broad, which supported the theory that she was just a resourceful salesperson.  
    “Listen, whatever you’re selling I’m not buying.”
    “I’m not selling anything.” She shifted from one foot to the other, cleared her throat. “Please, I just need a few moments of your time.”
    Definitely religion and judging by the firm set of her jaw it looked like she was going to stand on Garret’s porch all day until he let her do her spiel.  
    Sighing, he slapped off the safety lock and yanked open the door. The sun hit him square in the face. He shifted back a step, letting the interior shadows keep him hidden from other prying eyes. Can’t shoot what you can’t see, and for all he knew, this woman could be part of a carefully laid trap. Hell, she could be the trap, sent here to kill him...in that clingy, silk suit and with that…guide baton.
    Fuck, she’s blind.
    A Neanderthal instinct—strong man protect little woman—which had laid dormant in the male psyche for millennia, surfaced. He started to reach for her to support her or guide her or, hell, something before he checked himself.  
    “May I help you?”
    “It’s vital we talk. May I come in?” she asked earnestly, then nibbled her bottom lip.
    He glanced over her shoulder. A man stood by a silver, XT class Odyssey 360— sweet —parked at the end of the sidewalk. He was tall and thin with a full shock of hair that was more salt than pepper. Her car, her driver. Not begging for handouts or soliciting goods. Why was she here?  
    Only one way to find out. “Of course. Here, let me help.”
    He reached for her arm as she fumbled for the door frame, and drew her over the threshold. She quivered beneath his grip and tried to slide her arm free.
    “The couch is right over here. I’ll lead you to it.” He tried to sound reassuring, must have, because she calmed under his hand, allowing him to help her. Five-six, he judged, with about a-hundred-and-fifteen pounds packed into what was actually muscles on her curved body. The scent that drifted up off of her was a mix of flowers and musk. Something more than his protective instincts reared its little head. Damn. How long had it been? Last vacation?
    Ignoring his neglected hormones, he settled her on the couch and sat in the armchair next to it. He cleared his throat. “Well, despite evidence to the contrary, it seems I’m at a disadvantage here.”
    “Oh?” Her hands clenched around her baton.
    Tense. He wondered why. A plant? A trick? Or merely because of her handicap. If she was afraid, then why in the world would she have followed a man into his house alone, with no means of escape and no possibility of aid? One aging chauffer standing fifty yards away on the other side of the door hardly counted.
    “Your name,” he clarified. “I don’t know your name.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.” She visibly relaxed. “Aria. Aria Octavia Idyllis. I know. Silly, isn’t it? My mother had a fancy for music, poetry, art; that sort of thing.”
    “Aria,” Teigan tried it out, it teased at his memory. “It’s beautiful.” He couldn’t help but enjoy the blush that bloomed high on her cheeks. He was further intrigued when she turned her head slightly down and to the side, as if to avoid his gaze. Maybe actions of shyness were as much genetic as learned. Or maybe she’s not