Her Alien Savior Read Online Free Page A

with.
     
    ~*~
     
    Marissa diced the onions, allowing the tears that flowed to be attributed to the pungent smell while the knife she wielded tapped out a machine-gun-rapid tempo on the cutting board. She had to figure something out. Damned developers.
    Talk about your rock and a hard place. She wiped tears onto her sleeve, barely pausing with the chopping. As if she were taking her anger out on the onion. Take that county officials. She stabbed the cutting board. Take that developers. Take that stupid bank officer. The onion was liquefying under the pressure of her knife.
    A bell chime signaled a customer—or someone—had come in the front door. A quick glance at the clock showed it was waaaayyy early for business. Well, maybe not way early, but at least fifteen minutes before they were to open. And earlier than she wanted to open. What with this grumpy mood of hers.
    From the dining room, Belle’s tinkling giggle was met with a deep timbre. Male. And judging from Belle’s giggle, Marissa would have guessed attractive. Great. Just great.
    Belle loved an opportunity to flirt. Not that Marissa blamed her. Sure, it’d be nice to have someone, but Marissa’s luck with men wasn’t all that great.
    She should go check on the customer. Whoever it was. It’s your restaurant, girl— every customer, every time —her dad’s motto ran through her mind. That meant personalized service. She wondered if he’d still feel that way if he were here and faced losing the restaurant. When all she wanted to do was sink into a hole, or crawl under a rock, anything as long as she could hide from the world and the failure she’d become.
    Man up, Marissa, put your big-girl pants on and get out there. She put the knife down and rinsed her cheeks with a splash of cold water, blotting with a paper towel. Marissa tried to plaster a smile on her lips, but her face hurt with the effort. Or maybe that was her heart.
    She swung the stainless steel double doors open and stepped into the cool, inviting darkness of Two West Two’s dining room. A man was leaning against the door, setting his backpack on a booth seat, talking to Belle.
    Wait, did she say man? No, this was a hunk. All muscle, white tee that showed off pecs, dark hair, just long enough to run fingers through and a full set of lips with a ready smile.
    Except that when he raised his eyes from Belle’s enraptured countenance, right into Marissa’s eyes, Marissa would have sworn she saw recognition in his eyes. Not a glimmer of recognition—no—more like the kind of recognition a hunter gets in his eyes when he recognizes prey.
    Surely she was mistaken. Had to be. Who would come in here seeking her out? Really, what man like that would be in here looking for her? She fought to keep a poker face, to keep from showing her confusion.
    She didn’t care for the way his glance made her feel. No. She didn’t care for it one bit. Or, did she? She rocked on the balls of her feet to keep from squirming under his intensity.
    The stranger took a step in her direction. Marissa stilled. Now what? What did he want? He wasn’t dressed like a salesman, so probably not a restaurant supplier. He . . . he seemed more like—God, he looked more like the kind of man who would pose on the covers of romance novels.
    The image of a bodice-ripper romance came to mind. No, not that kind, Marissa fought back the laugh, because he’d think her crazy for laughing out loud. The kind that he brought to mind was the sexy vampire stories, the ones with those beautiful men on them who make a woman wish she could meet a vampire. Yeah, that’s what he looked like.
    And good-looking men were bad news. Bad, bad news. They attracted women. Lots of women. Women who had no qualms about sleeping with a man who was taken. Yeah, well what about the men who did that—way worse, Marissa agreed with herself. Not only did good-looking men do that, they also made you do stupid things. Yeah, no good-looking men for her. Give her