Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON
51
with the way he looked at her sometimes, she wondered
whether that was true.
Would he tell her how he’d been hurt if she asked?
Or would he be offended by her nosiness?
She frowned and closed the lid on the washer. Probably
the latter, and she wouldn’t even blame him.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was an
enigma: an intelligent, well-educated man who’d presumably
had a high-paying job and yet was now cooking
and cleaning up after strangers at this remote lodge,
glad when he had his midweek solitude. A man who hid
his pain, who had been dismayed by the sight of the
woman and kids on his doorstep but had been kind in
large and small ways since then. He was a man who
looked as if he badly wanted to kiss her, and yet he
seemed to have forgotten how to flirt.
More assumptions on her part, Fiona thought with a
sigh as she headed back to the kitchen to see how the
kids were doing with cleanup. She was tantalized by
him, so, ergo, he must be attracted to her.
Because she was so irresistible, of course.
Another sigh. She was pretty on a good day, which
this was not. True beauty, she’d never achieve.
Face it: she was unlikely to have a shot at learning
what had wounded John Fallon psychologically as well
as physically. And, honestly, even if the attraction was
reciprocal, where would they go with it, living several
hours apart as they did?
Stick to fixing the kids’ problems.
“Watch it!” she heard one of the boys say, followed
by the crash of a dish shattering on the slate floor.