Niko's Stolen Bride by Lindy Corbin Read Free Book Online Page A

touching this man with the casual air of old acquaintances. Or at all. She cleared her throat, searching for something to say. “I’ll have you know I watch where I’m going.”
    “I watch where you’re going too.”
    Kara turned her head sharply in his direction, but Niko wasn’t looking at her. Deciding it must have been an innocent remark, she pushed away the edgy awareness and focused on sight-seeing.
    The street quickly became more commercial as they strolled back toward the main square. The owners of some of the houses had converted the front rooms to small stores. There were art studios with paintings and pottery, handmade clothes and jewelry as well as salons for tarot readings. There was even a small bar that delivered cold bottles of beer out of the window of what used to be the living room. They window-shopped and sometimes stepped up onto the wide front porches to check out a particularly interesting object, but didn’t find anything to draw them into the deeper recesses of the stores.
    “You do seem to know your way around,” Kara said as Niko guided her across a busy street and back into the relative quiet of a residential area.
    “Key West is just a couple of hours from Miami by boat or car. My friends and I came here often for the weekends.” He stopped on the sidewalk and turned toward her, a smile curving one side of his lips. “We were typical college students; scuba diving in the day and bar hopping at night. Sometimes, I miss those days.”
    Kara stared up at him, trying to imagine him as young and carefree. It was impossible. He was a big, sexy male, confident in a subtle way that made her want to relinquish control to him. She had the crazy idea that this was a man she could follow to the ends of the earth if he asked. There was nothing more she wanted to do than sink into the shelter of his arms, to smell the sun-warmed musk of his skin, to pull his head down to hers for a long kiss. Instead, she stepped back, breaking the connection.
    He gestured toward a tall wrought iron gate beside them. “This is Ernest Hemmingway’s house. Would you like to go inside?”
    Two story and square, its wide balconies were graced with fanciful wrought iron railings. It stood in the midst of a small garden with tall trees and bunched bamboo that shaded the meandering brick paths. On one side of the house was a water garden edged in white coral rock and with lilies scattered across its shallow, glassy surface. On the other, the music of a small fountain could be heard, splashing into its wide bowl.
    They had just missed the beginning of the guided tour of the famous author’s house. So they opted to wander the gardens, searching for the offspring of his six-toed cats. Hemingway cats, they were called by the locals. The kittens were highly prized and often disappeared under the arms of visiting tourists. There were several animals to be found lounging beside the fountain or sprawled under the shade of hibiscus bushes. Most were either asleep or lay with their eyes half-closed against the glare of the noon sun and the curious stares of the two-legged intruders.
    “Are you a cat person?” she asked Niko as she settled on a bench strategically placed below a bougainvillea covered arbor. “Or a dog person?”
    He reached up to remove his sunglasses, folding them and hanging them from the neck of his shirt. “Neither.”
    She threw him a mock horrified glance, briefly meeting the liquid blue-gray of his gaze. His pupils were large, tempting a woman to swim in their depths, but sharp intelligence gleamed beneath the surface. She suspected that he recognized the conflicting emotions that ebbed and flowed through her today. It had been easier, less personal, to talk to him with the protective shield of the darkened glass between them.
    To hide her unease, she gave a dramatic shudder. “You’re not one of those guys who keeps snakes or lizards?”
    “Hardly.” He leaned against the wooden edge of the arbor