Stranger in Paradise by Amanda McIntyre Read Free Book Online Page A

shoulder, realizing it was Zack’s face she’d seen in the reflection.
    “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He stared at her with all the respect of a raving lunatic. Okay, maybe she’d overreacted a bit. Imagination is a good thing in a writer…most days.
    “I didn’t hear you sneak down the stairs.”
    He frowned. “I didn’t sneak .” There was definite irritation attached to the last word.
    “Then why didn’t you turn on a light?” She jabbed her finger at him as she stood to confront him.
    “You were so into your movie, I didn’t want to disturb you. I concluded that you liked watching movies in the dark. I”--he tapped his chest, --“was only trying to be considerate.”
    She snorted loudly to prove that she didn’t buy his attempt at being considerate for one minute.
    Anger is attraction in reverse, her muse whispered.
    “Oh, for God’s sake,” Kacey muttered and took a step, realizing too late that her feet were tangled in the afghan. She fell forward and smacked her cheek on the edge of the table just before she face-planted onto the rustic braided rug. In an instant, she was on her feet, Zack’s hands set firmly around her waist.
    “Are you okay? Let me see.” He gently batted her hand away.
    She swayed a little, telling herself that this wasn’t swooning--she was simply light-headed.
    “You look a little pale. Have you eaten anything all day?” His large hands cupped her face as he studied her.
    She felt foolish, awkward, but she couldn’t deny his chivalry was impressive. Short of dropping her arm over her forehead in Victorian fashion, she took advantage of her situation--albeit mildly--and leaned against his solid chest. Two seconds, what could it hurt?
    His arm slid around her waist, holding her close. It was an idyllic moment, really, until she pressed her cheek against the rock-hard plane of his pecs.
    Kacey pushed against him and stepped back, holding her face. “I think I’ve broken my jaw.”
    “You’ve haven’t,” he replied, his demeanor calm, his tone equally so. It was unsettling. “Here, let me take a closer look.” His eyes all but twinkled as he lifted her chin to look at him. His thumb and forefinger ever-so-gently slid over her cheek. She watched his studious pursuit, her lips puckered under his intense scrutiny.
    “It needs ice,” she mumbled, trying to maintain her decorum, glad that at least her muse was not currently bugging her.
    Sorry. Busy.  In full swoon mode.
    “Hush. I’ve had a few classes in emergency medicine.” It wasn’t fair that his voice was like melting butter over a hot biscuit.
    He inspected her face for what seemed an eternity. “Are you about finished?” It was bad enough to have to stare into those deep forest-green eyes at close range
    Speak for yourself, her muse sighed.
    “Looks like it needs ice.” He eased his hand away, but didn’t move.
    Like the rest of me does, her muse countered.
    Kacey sighed and stepped around him, taking a few deep breaths to calm her wayward emotions. Her imagination wouldn’t let go so easily. The heat of his hand still warmed her skin; the touch of his hard body sent her muse into overdrive. She opened the freezer door and her heart sank. Reality sucked.
    No ice cube trays. Therefore, no ice. “I need to call the restaurant and see if they have extra ice.”
    “Why not go ahead and order dinner while we’re at it.” He stooped down to pick up the sandwich and plate that had scattered across the floor. He then leaned against the cabinet, crossing his arms over his great--make that his really great--chest.
    “What a thoughtful idea.” Kacey found the number, wrote down her food choice, and handed him the list while she rummaged for something cold to put on her swelling jaw.
    “That’s it? You sure you don’t want a salad or something?” he asked.
    “I’m good, thanks.”
    He shrugged, dialed, and placed the order to go, ordering whitefish chowder for her, and for him,