He Claims Me Read Online Free

pool?”
    â€œThere’s been no one else since you interviewed to house-­sit for the Leighs.” Blaine gazes upward also, his jaw jutted, his profile rugged and undeniably masculine. “And a little brown moth landed on your wrist.”
    â€œI remember.” I kicked over the fallen leaf the moth was hiding under, startling the tiny creature. She flew upward, her wings fluttering, and she gripped me with her little legs, her entire body quivering. She looked as scared as I was, the prospect of meeting the Leighs terrifying me.
    â€œYou set the moth carefully on a rosebush, concealing her beneath the pink blooms.” Blaine meets my gaze, his eyes soft, as though he treasures this simple memory.
    â€œThe gardener then yelled at me for walking on the grass,” I add ruefully. “He chased me halfway down the block, waving his hands and cursing at me.” I shake my head, my cheeks heating. “Why would you have grass if you can’t walk on it?” I ask, and Blaine gives me one of his rare smiles.
    Silence stretches, a companionable quiet, and I walk even slower, in no rush to return to the Leighs’ empty bungalow. “You saw the moth incident, huh?” I glance up at him. I was wearing my baggy white shirt and oversized black pants, thinking myself invisible, and he saw me.
    â€œI watched you even then.” Blaine squeezes my hand. “You were beautiful and real and I couldn’t look away.” He waits as I find my key, his gaze fixed on my face.
    I feel cherished . . . maybe even loved, not that I remember what being loved feels like. The last person to love me was my father, and he died in prison when I was fourteen.
    As Blaine and I stand on the Leighs’ cold steel welcome mat, I fiddle with the finicky lock. Finally there’s a click and the door swings open. Warm air rushes out of the concrete and glass modern bungalow, the air-­conditioning too costly to run.
    My agreement with Dr. Leigh and his wife is I pay for utilities and maintenance as they gallivant around Europe. In exchange, I get a place to stay.
    Unfortunately, to pay for this deal I have to work two jobs. I work days at Feed Your Hungry, dialing for dollars at the charity, and I work nights at Blaine Technologies as an assistant to Fran, Blaine’s assistant.
    A wonderful upside of my second job is I spend more time with Blaine. I smile at the Leighs’ sexy neighbor, wishing I could invite him inside. I can’t. The plastic surgeon and his wife left me with a long list of things I couldn’t do while staying in their house, having visitors being top on this list.
    Blaine hands me the garment bags. Our fingers brush and a spark of awareness shoots up my arm. “These are more suits from Fran,” he explains.
    â€œShe wanted to throw the suits away.” I raise my chin. Although there’s no judgment in Blaine’s deep voice, years of facing accusations have made me defensive. “She told me I could have them.” I’m not a thief like my father. I don’t take what isn’t mine.
    â€œFran’s happy you’ll wear them.” Blaine leans forward and glides his lips over mine, evaporating my concerns with one heated touch. “Remember my instructions for tonight.” He taps the tip of my nose and I blink. “Be a good girl, Anna.”
    Blaine turns and walks away, his shoulders broad, his spine rigidly straight and proud. I close the door, flick on the hallway lights, and slip out of my shoes, as no shoes are allowed in the house.
    I pad across the concrete floors, turning a light off for every light I turn on. I rearrange the selection of store catalogues on a modern glass hallway table and nudge a ­couple of Mrs. Leigh’s geometric glass objets d’art an inch to the left, my goal to make the empty house appear lived in.
    The door of a display case in the dining room has swung open. Touching Mrs. Leigh’s