Charmed by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

pitched him bodily out of her house rather than simply slamming the door in his face.
    And why had he acted so stupidly? Past experience, true. But that wasn’t the root of it, and he knew it.
    Hormones, he decided with a half laugh. The kind of raging hormones better suited to a teenager than a grown man.
    He’d looked up at her face in that sun-washed kitchen, feeling her skin warm under his hand, smelling that serenely seductive scent she exuded, and he’d wanted. He’d craved. For one blinding moment, he’d imagined with perfect clarity what it would be like to drag her off that curvy little chair, to feel that quick jerk-shudder of reaction as he devoured that incredibly soft-looking mouth.
    That instant edge of desire had been so sharp, he’d needed to believe there was some outside force, some ploy or plot or plan to jumble his system so thoroughly.
    Safest course, he realized with a sigh. Blame her.
    Of course, he might have been able to dismiss the whole thing if it hadn’t been for the fact that at that moment he’d looked up into her eyes and seen the same dreamy hunger he was feeling. And he’d felt the power, the mystery, the titanic sexuality, of a woman on the point of yielding.
    His imagination had a great deal of punch, he knew. But what he’d seen, what he’d felt, had been utterly real.
    For a moment, for just a moment, the tensions and needs had had that room humming like a harp string. Then he’d pulled back—as he should. A man had no business seducing his neighbor in her kitchen.
    Now he’d very likely destroyed any chance of getting to know her better—just when he’d realized he very much wanted to get to know Miss Anastasia Donovan.
    Pulling out a cigarette, Boone ran his fingers over it while he thought through various methods of redemption. When the light dawned, it was so simple he laughed out loud. If he’d been looking for a way into the fair maiden’s heart—which he wasn’t, exactly—it couldn’t have been more perfect.
    Pleased with himself, he settled down to work until it was time to pick up Jessie at school.
    *  *  *
    Conceited jerk. Ana worked off her temper with mortar and pestle. It was very satisfying to grind something—even if it was only some innocent herbs—into a powder. Imagine.
Imagine
him having the idea that she was … on the make, she decided, sneering. As if she’d found him irresistible. As if she’d been pining away behind some glass wall waiting for her prince to come. So that she could snare him.
    The gall of the man.
    At least she’d had the satisfaction of thumbing her nose at him. And if closing a door in anyone’s face was out of character for her, well, it had felt wonderful at the time.
    So wonderful, in fact, that she wouldn’t mind doing it again.
    It was a damn shame he was so talented. And it couldn’t be denied that he was a wonderful father. They were traits she couldn’t help but admire. There was no denying he was attractive, magnetically sexual, with just a dash of shyness tossed in for sweetness, along with the wild tang of untamed male.
    And those eyes, those incredible eyes that just about stopped your breath when they focused on you.
    Ana scowled and tightened her grip on the pestle. Not that she was interested in any of that.
    There might have been a moment in the kitchen, when he was stroking her flesh so gently and his voiceblocked out all other sound, that she found herself drawn to him.
    All right, aroused by him, she admitted. It wasn’t a crime.
    But he’d certainly shut that switch off quickly enough, and that was fine by her.
    Beginning this instant, and from now on, she would think of him only as Jessica’s father. She would be aloof if it killed her, friendly only to the point where it eased her relationship with the child.
    She enjoyed having Jessie in her life, and she wasn’t about to sacrifice that pleasure because of a basic and very well–justified dislike of Jessie’s father.
    “Hi!”
    There