Silver Storm: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 2 Read Online Free

perfect.
    Sun-bleached brown hair floated around her pale face in a halo of dark silk. Full, deep pink lips and dark lashes outlined her features like an artist’s brush strokes. A light dusting of freckles gave her a pixie-like quality he found shockingly appealing. She looked like a sun-drenched California beach beauty, complete with tan lines from an itsy-bitsy bikini and a siren’s hair. Long hair. Long everything. He guessed she was at least six feet tall, with incredibly long legs, a slender waist, and small tight breasts that would fit his hand to perfection. She was lean, like a gazelle, muscular and slim. Obviously either an athlete or someone obsessed with the gym.
    What the hell was she doing naked, floating in a lake where she’d appeared from nowhere like a bad magic trick?
    Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal dazed hazel-green irises that seemed unable to focus on his face. Her whispered words shocked him.
    “Timothy Daniel Tucker.”
    Three words. His name. His whole name. No one had called him that since his mother had thrown it around the house when he would behave like only a particularly aggravating teenage boy could. He was damn good at aggravating a woman when he wanted to be. At least when they were conscious…
    “Who are you?” Tim demanded an answer, but she was out again. So, who the hell was she and why did she know his name?
    Regardless, he couldn’t leave her in the water. The lake was cold, even this time of year, and she’d get hypothermia. Training kicked in and he lifted her from the water to carry her inside. His house backed to the lake. Five steps and they’d be at his fence, in his yard. He’d get her inside and warmed up. Once she came to, he’d get some answers. If he didn’t like those answers, a phone call and an ambulance ride would get her out of his hair.
    Bandit jumped around in the water and swam to shore right behind him, tail still wagging like she’d lost her little mind.
    “You know something I don’t, girl?” Tim walked under the raised porch and yanked the sliding glass door to his basement open with his thumb. Careful not to bang the unconscious woman’s head on the doorframe, he turned sideways and stepped into the rec room in his basement. Suede leather couches. A couple of fat recliners. Giant flat screen T.V., X-Box, pool table, a kitchenette and bedroom off to the side. It was the ultimate bachelor pad and his mother had hated every piece of furniture, the flooring, even the soothing green he’d painted the walls. She’d wanted classic regency era, English furniture, imported, ridiculously uncomfortable, and built for a man half his size.
    She wanted a show room with designer vases, art, and floral wallpaper accented with fake flower arrangements, not a living space. Nothing she did was homey or about comfort. At least that was why he told himself he never went upstairs anymore. Might as well live in a four-thousand-square-foot, five-bedroom show home, a fucking museum. Most days it felt like he did.
    Bandit yapped happily and he’d swear the dog was smiling as she trotted after him into the house dripping lake water. Gently as he could, he laid the mystery woman down on his soft brown couch and pulled a fuzzy green blanket from where it rested over the arm of the couch to cover her. He tucked her in like a mummy, a sigh of relief escaping. With her delectable body covered, maybe he could start using his brain again, start thinking about something other than the softness of her skin. He grabbed a thick towel out of the bathroom closet to put under her hair. The silken mess reached just past her shoulders and was soaking everything in sight.
    As gently as he could, he tugged the wet mass out from beneath her shoulders. With his right hand he reached along her neck to cup her head and lift it, sliding the towel beneath her and doing his best to fight with long strands that seemed determined to stick to her skin. Heat pulsed beneath his palm, surged