Hero at Large by Janet Evanovich Read Free Book Online Page A

corduroy couch, bordered by two end tables, faced the large brick fireplace that dominated a corner of the rec room. An oversized coffee table, overflowing with children’s books, filled the space between the couch and the fireplace. Two doors led off the family room, one leading to a neat utility room, and the second leading to the guest bedroom and adjoining bath. Chris motioned to the double bed covered with a red plaid comforter. “There are fresh sheets on the bed. I’ll bring some extra towels down later.”
    â€œWill you read me a bedtime story?” His voice was pleasantly husky with fatigue. “The one about Little Bear?”
    Chris touched her finger to his bearded cheek. He was dead on his feet, but he could dredge up enough energy for some gentle teasing. Most men would be grouchy and short-tempered by now. There was something about him—a playfulness, a fleeting glimpse of wistful trust that stirred feelings in her that she’d only before felt for baby birds, orphaned kittens, and sleeping children. It was strange that the most virile, competent male she’d ever met could evoke such tender emotions.Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl. And then there were the times when he was infuriating. Arrogant. Aggressive. Sneaky.
    Ken shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to guess what just went through your mind. I’ve never seen emotions parade across anyone’s face like that before. One minute you were on the verge of a good night kiss and in a matter of seconds you were considering homicide.”
    â€œYou’re pretty sharp when you’re tired.”
    He flopped down on the bed. “Mmmm, and I’m even better when I’m horizontal.”
    â€œYou’re impossible.” Her mood seesawed back to poignant affection. “I’m sorry I broke your arm.”
    He closed his eyes and smiled. “I’m not.”
    Chris resisted the urge to help him with his boots. She turned quickly and left the room before he could open his eyes and see the glow of plea sure his words had produced.

Chapter 3
    Chris sat in evening rush-hour traffic, one hand resting on the leather-wrapped steering wheel of  Ken’s custom truck, the other hand pressing against her churning stomach. She’d done something incredibly stupid. She’d allowed Ken into her house—into her heart. She would have been better off if she’d simply allowed him into her bed. That would have been sex. That would have been something she could handle.
    She inched the truck forward in the endless traffic and slumped in her seat. Who was she trying to kid? Sex with Ken would be a disaster. I’m like a dinosaur. I’m practically an extinct species. I’m a  mental virgin, for Pete’s sake. She couldn’t even imagine casual sex. And even if she could divorce sex from love, sex with Ken would probably ruin her for life—how would she ever top it?
    Chris turned left off Little River Turnpike and headed for her subdivision. Her street lookednormal enough. Her town house seemed just as she’d left it, but she knew it was merely a deceptive facade. Nothing would be normal as long as Ken had the key to her front door. She parked at the curb and tried to squelch the turmoil in her chest. This will never work, she told herself as she hopped from the truck. He has to go. She stomped up the sidewalk, berating herself. “How could I ever have agreed to this?” she muttered, throwing her arms in the air. “This is absurd.” The front door crashed open and Chris stormed into the room.
    â€œWell, here she is,” Aunt Edna said to Ken. “Just like I told you. Muttering and stomping. All in a dither. Just look at her. Ain’t she a pip?”
    The last sentence was uttered with such unadulterated pride and love that Ken had to smile in appreciation. He adjusted the little girl on his lap to a more comfortable position and carefully laid a