Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy) by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online

quilt so tightly relaxed and her breathing grew steady.
    Watching her sleep, he felt it again, the need to hold and be held, the need to protect. His fertile mind created a scenario in which Leah was a lost soul with no ties to the past, no plans for the future, no need beyond that of a little human warmth. It was a dream, of course, but it reflected what he hadn’t glimpsed about himself until tonight. He didn’t think he liked it, because it meant that something was lacking in the life he’d so painstakingly shaped for himself, but it was there, and it had a sudden and odd kind of power.
    Rising silently from the sofa this time, he got down on his haunches beside her. Her face was half-hidden, so he eased the quilt down to her chin, studying features lit only by the dying embers in the hearth. She looked totally guileless; he wished he could believe that she was.
    Unable to help himself, he touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. Her skin was soft and unblemished, warmed by the fire, faintly flushed. Dry now, her hair was thick. The bangs that covered her brow made her features look all the more delicate. She wasn’t beautiful or sexy, but he had to give her pretty. If only he could give her innocent.
    It wouldn’t hurt to pretend for one night, would it?
    Careful not to disturb her, he gently slid his arms beneath her and, quilt and all, carried her to his bed. When she was safely tucked into one side, he crossed to the other, stripped down to his underwear and stretched out beneath the sheets.
    Lying flat on his back, he tipped his head her way. The black gloss of her hair was all he could see above the quilt, but the series of lumps beneath it suggested far more. She wasn’t curvaceous. Her drenched clothes had clung to a slender body. And she wasn’t heavy. He knew; he’d carried her. Still, even when she’d been covered with mud and soaked, he’d known she was a woman.
    Eyes rising to the darkened rafters, he shifted once, paused, then shifted again. With each shift, he inched closer to her. He couldn’t feel her warmth, couldn’t smell her scent. Multiple layers of bedclothes, plus a safe twelve inches of space prevented that. But he knew she was there, and in the dark, where no one could see or know, he smiled.
    *   *   *
    L EAH AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the smell of fresh coffee and the sizzle of bacon. She was frowning even before she’d opened her eyes, because she didn’t understand who would be in her apartment, much less making breakfast. Then the events of the day before returned to her, and her eyes flew open. Last she remembered she’d been lying in front of the fire. Now she was in a bed. But there was only one bed in Garrick’s cabin.
    Garrick. Her head spun around and she saw a blurred form before the stove. Moments later, with her glasses firmly in place, she confirmed the identity of that form.
    It took her a minute to free herself from the cocoon of quilts and another minute to push herself up and drop her feet to the floor. In the process she was scolded by every sore muscle in her body. Gritting back a moan, she rose from the bed and limped into the bathroom.
    By the time she’d washed up and combed her hair, she was contemplating sneaking back to bed. She ached all over, she looked like hell, and from the sounds of it, the rain hadn’t let up. Going out in the storm, even in daylight, was a dismal thought.
    But she couldn’t sneak back to bed because the bed wasn’t hers. And he’d seen her get up. And she had decisions to make.
    Garrick had just set two plates of food on the small table, when she hesitantly approached. His keen glance took in her pale skin and the gingerliness of her movements. “Sit,” he commanded, refusing to be touched. He’d had his one night of pretending and resented the fact that it had left him wanting. Now morning had come, and he needed some answers.
    Leah sat—and proceeded, with no encouragement at all, to consume an indeterminate