Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) Read Online Free

dizzy?”
    “I’m
fine. If it’s a concussion, it’s a mild one.” His words were convincing, but he
didn’t move from his chair. He watched her with deep, intense, blue-gray eyes.
    She
felt oddly self-conscious as she turned around, and her whole body shook with
inexplicable waves of anxiety and need. She was usually a confident,
no-nonsense woman, and she wasn't used to feeling this way, so she reacted with
her characteristic sharpness. “Are you just going to sit there and drip on the
floor?”
    Michael’s
eyes narrowed astutely. “You’re shivering.”
    “Well,
what do you expect? I’m cold, wet, and stranded with you in the middle of a tropical
storm!”
    Chuckling,
Michael stood up and picked up the white t-shirt and jeans she’d brought down.
“This all you could find?”
    “There
were some old tweed suits and a couple of pairs of overalls. I figured you’d
prefer the jeans.” The image of Michael in tweed or overalls made Allison
snicker despite herself.
    “Good
call.” He ran his eyes up and down her form, his eyes lingering on her breasts
beneath her wet, clinging shirt. “I’m going to change clothes. I’d suggest you
do the same.”
    Even
such innocuous words fueled Allison’s desire. She felt her nipples tighten and
her intimate muscles clench at the expression in his eyes.
    But
she told herself to be sensible. There were far more urgent things for her to
worry about than jumping into bed with Michael Martin.
    *
* *
    Michael dried himself
off with one of the towels Allison had found and then pulled on the dry
clothes. The t-shirt was fine and the jeans basically fit, but he’d prefer to
wear his own clothes.
    Had
he been thinking, he would have grabbed his bag from his SUV before they
abandoned it.
    Before
he returned to the kitchen, he took a minute to school his body’s reactions. He
was responding to Allison in ridiculous ways, turned on by the feel of her
gentle fingers on his head and by the ironic lilt to her voice. He’d been
partially hard as he left her a minute ago. Her wet, transparent shirt was
temptation enough, revealing that body he was dying to touch again, but he was
usually far more controlled than this, even with a woman he desired.
    His
only explanation was that the blow to his head had affected his composure and
good sense.
    He
was about to leave the room he’d ducked into—furnished as a study or
office—when something on a shelf against the wall caught his eye.
    An
old, portable radio.
    He
grabbed it and brought it with him as he returned to the kitchen. There, he
took a can of soup from the pantry and a pot from the pot rack. He was in the
middle of lighting the burner to the stove when Allison returned.
    “Oh!”
she exclaimed, coming into the kitchen wearing a pair of casual gray pants and
a red top that flattered her figure. “You found a radio. Are there batteries?”
    “They’re
dead, but maybe we can find some elsewhere in the house.” Michael hunted
through the utensil drawer until he found a can opener. “Chicken soup?” he
asked with a wry note of amusement. “There’s a tea kettle there too, if you’d
like.”
    Allison
blinked at him for a moment. Then evidently remembered her tart comment from
the drive to the house. “Tea and soup sounds good to me, but don’t expect me to
serve it to you in bed.”
    The
last word conjured up a series of erotic images in Michael’s mind, and they
evidently showed in his expression.
    Allison
glanced away, looking delectably embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that .”
    Michael’s
lips twitched up. “I know. Although you wouldn't hear me complaining.”
    He
wished he knew more about her life over the last seven years. She’d dropped off
his radar completely after she left Whitesville for college, and his dad had
moved their company to New York.
    There
seemed to be so many layers to her now, though. She was obviously an
attractive, intelligent, and confident woman, but at times he caught flickers
of