Causing Havoc Read Online Free

base. "I wouldn't cal them advances as much as unnecessary interest. I've
    always assumed it's because I'm Cam's friend. Like maybe he's just going out of his way to make
    friends with me because Cam and I are so tight."
    "No."
    She made a face. "Then who knows? I've never been able to understand Roger."
    Done with that topic, Havoc asked, "So now what?"
    Eve looked at her watch and wanted to curse the fates. "I'm afraid my coach is about to turn into a
    pumpkin."
    "Let it. I have a rental right outside."
    The man was far too tempting. "Look, I don't usual y pick up guys in bars. I never pick up fighters
    named Havoc." Her laugh went flat. "Roger was right about one thing. I'm not on my best behavior tonight. The only upshot is that I'm not likely to ever see you again, so I don't have to worry about your opinion of me."
    "Is that so?"
    "Yes. And that being the case ..." She crossed the two-foot space separating them and reached for him.
    Shameful y practiced, he scooped her in to ful body contact and without missing a single beat his
    mouth was on hers. This kiss had no similarity to the first. Bold, hot, devouring, he kissed the strength
    right out of her bones and left her pulsing pleasurably in too many places to count.
    Dazed, wishing with al her heart that she had the time and the demeanor to indulge in a quick fling,
    Eve said, "Wow again."
    His big hand cupped her face, his thumb brushed her jaw. "About not seeing me again?"
    Please, please, ask for my phone number . Eve said hopeful y, "Yes?"
    He grinned, and that grin did indeed cause havoc. "Don't count it."
    Confused, utterly mute, Eve stood there while he walked away. And damned if he didn't look as good
    from the back as he had from the front.

Chapter 2
    DEAN drove slowly down the street. Memories seeped in, unpleasant, stirring, bombarding him with
    mixed emotions. So many things looked different—and yet stil the same. Twenty years should have
    obliterated any remembrance of his former life. But he saw the manhole cover in the street and
    remembered getting caught under it. He saw the tree at the corner of the block and winced,
    remembering a fal that had knocked the wind out of him.
    And he remembered his mother, beautiful, distracted, teasing. Busy with things other than her
    children. She would laugh at nothing, or at least, nothing that he understood. They had a variety of
    babysitters-slash-housekeepers around ful time, and whenever possible, his mother delegated to
    them.
    He remembered that his father was usual y gone. He worked a lot, and when he got home, he
    wanted to relax. That meant soaking in the pool without kids to bother him or golfing with his buddies.
    Whenever his mother and father were near each other, they argued.
    Day in and day out, the routine hadn't varied much. Even after Camil e and Jacqueline were born,
    his mother and father hadn't slowed down or become more domestic. They were unhappy together,
    but not apart.
    Then they'd died in a car wreck, and Dean's routine world had shattered.
    Pul ing past the driveway, he parked at the curb and turned off the engine. For a few minutes, he just
    sat there, looking at the house he'd lived in for nine years. It looked the same. White wood siding.
    Green shutters. Gray roof. Red front door.
    The landscaping was out of date but wel kept. Some trees had matured, others were gone. Nothing
    much had changed.
    Then he took a closer look. The shingles on the roof looked a little shabby. The painted wood siding
    peeled in places. Cracks marred the driveway and sidewalk. The gutters showed patches of rust.
    Maybe it was his expertise in home repairs, but he saw every smal flaw, every indication of neglected
    upkeep.
    Before Dean even realized it, he was outside his rented car. Arms crossed atop the roof, he
    soaked in the sight of the house and yard and the sensation of seeing it al as an adult.
    Damn, but it felt funny to be "home."
    He'd played bal in that front yard with other neighborhood kids.