Hoodwinked by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online

too, though I didn’t lose them at the same time. Any brothers or sisters?” he asked then.
    She shook her head. “No. I’m pretty much alone.” She glanced at him, wondering whether or not to risk asking it.
    â€œI’m alone, too,” he said, anticipating the question. He raised the cigarette to his firm mouth. “I’ve learned to like it.”
    â€œI can’t imagine liking loneliness,” she said absently, watching the sky.
    â€œDon’t you?” he questioned, smiling faintly at her surprised look. “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, except on Sundays. You’re always by yourself at work.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean I like it— Oh, my gosh!”
    She jumped up and ran into the apartment without saying why. Bagwell was on the table, helping himself to apples and pears with total disregard for neatness, taking a bite out of one and then another.
    He looked up at her with pear bits dangling from his beak and a torn piece of pear in his claw. “Good!” he assured her.
    â€œYou horrible bird,” she groaned. “My beautiful fruit!”
    There was a faint sound from behind her that turned into a literal roar of laughter, deep and pleasant.
    â€œThis is Bagwell,” she told her new neighbor.
    â€œHello, Bagwell,” he said, moving closer to the table.
    â€œDon’t offer him a finger,” she cautioned. “He considers it an invitation to lunch.”
    â€œI’ll remember that.” He smiled at the antics of the big green bird, who was enjoying the extra attention and showing it by spreading his tail feathers.
    â€œHe loves men,” Maureen mentioned. “I think he’s a she.”
    â€œWell, he’s pretty,” he murmured dryly.
    â€œPree-tty!” Bagwell agreed. “Hello. Hello!”
    Jake laughed. “Smart, too.”
    â€œHe thinks so,” she said. She looked at the big man shyly. “Would you like something to drink? There are soft drinks, or I can make coffee.”
    â€œGood coffee?” he taunted. “I don’t care for instant.”
    He struck her as a demanding guest, but she was lonely.
    â€œGood coffee,” she assured him. She got down the canister and made a fresh pot in her automatic drip coffee maker. “Do you have a name besides Jake?” she asked carelessly, pretending that she didn’t already know.
    â€œJake Edwards,” he said. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “You don’t smoke, do you?”
    â€œNo, but I don’t mind it.” She started the coffee maker and found him a big blue ashtray. “Here. My dad gave it to me for Christmas, so he’d have someplace to put his ashes.” She sighed, remembering that. It had been just after Christmas that she’d lost him and her mother.
    He watched the expressions move across her face with curious, quiet eyes. “Thanks.” He leaned back in the chair, drawing her attention involuntarily to the breadth of his chest and the muscular strength of his arms. Where the knit shirt was open at the throat, a mass of black hair was visible, hinting at a veritable forest of it beneath it. She felt herself going warm all over. He was a sensual man. The coverall he wore at work disguised his body, but his slacks clung to long, muscular legs and narrow hips, just as the shirt outlined his broad chest, making her aware of him as she hadn’t ever been of a man.
    If she was watching him, the reverse was also true. He found her frankly attractive, from her long dark hair to her slightly larger than average feet. She had a grace of carriage that was rare, and a smile that was infectious. It had been a long time since he’d laughed or felt pleasure. But being around her gave him peace. She warmed him. Not only that, but he remembered vividly the glimpse he’d gotten of her not long before in her oversized pajama jacket: long, tanned legs, full breasts,