Hero at Large by Janet Evanovich Page B

of a cook, but I make an excellent Irish coffee.”
    Chris stared at the white bag. It was from her favorite bakery. She peeked inside. All her favorite cookies—and Linzer tortes. She loved Linzer tortes. Smells like a plot, she thought. This could only be Aunt Edna’s work. The heavenly aroma of coffee brewing drifted into the dining room. Chris sniffed in appreciation and arranged the cookies on the silver plate. A doily. She sighed. Edna was really going all out on this one.
    â€œChris,” Ken called. “I need help. I can’t carry two mugs of hot coffee with only one hand.”
    Chris placed the cookies and the coffee on a tray and followed Ken downstairs. There wasalready a fire glowing in the fireplace. An electric thrill raced through Chris as she watched Ken add a log and stoke the embers into life. He wore a powder-blue polo shirt with the left sleeve cut at the elbow. His silky black hair curled over the cotton collar, the muscles in his back rippled as he moved, and his biceps bulged under the soft fabric. Chris allowed herself the intoxicating pleasure of admiring the broad shoulders and slim hips. His shirt hung loose over clean, faded jeans that were loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough to display well-defined quadriceps and a perfect backside. I’d trade every Linzer torte on this plate for one nibble at that perfect behind, she decided, and was immediately horrified that she’d even thought such a thing. She felt her face flame.
    He rose from the fire and regarded her with amused curiosity. “Are you flushed from the fire, or have you been thinking naughty thoughts?”
    Chris put her hands to her burning cheeks. “This is embarrassing.”
    He settled beside her on the big overstuffed couch and rested his injured foot on the coffee table. “Here”—he offered Chris half of his sugar cookie—“take a bite. It will be so exquisite you’ll forget about being embarrassed.”
    Chris bit into the cookie and let it melt in hermouth, ruefully thinking it would take more than a cookie to overcome her undeniable reaction to his presence. Sexy. She tried taking slow, deep, regular breaths, but her heart was still pounding.
    â€œEdna told me about this bakery. She said it was your favorite—I can see why.” He waved his half-eaten piece of cookie at her. “I’m an expert on cookies, and these are definitely top of the line.”
    Chris licked at the dollop of whipped cream floating on the top of her coffee. His honesty was unnerving. He made no pretense about Edna’s help in all this, and he made it perfectly clear that he was on his best behavior, trying to make a good impression. Chris wondered about his intentions. He obviously wanted to live in her house. She wasn’t sure why, except that he really did seem to miss being part of a family. And he was physically attracted to her. That was unmistakable. And mutual. No man had ever affected her quite like Ken—not even Steven.
    Chris watched him under lowered lashes and felt the warmth flood through her. It was a bittersweet feeling, lovely and sensual as a cat by a heated hearth, and sad because it was all so impossible. I don’t want another man in my life, she repeated to herself. Especially this one. He’s much too handsome. Too virile. He probably collects women likeants at a picnic. But she had to admit this was very nice.
    They sat side by side on the comfortable couch, eating Linzer tortes in silence, listening to the hiss and crackle of the fire. Chris sipped at the coffee. She curled her legs under her and closed her eyes drowsily. “It’s been such a long day,” she mumbled in halfhearted apology. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”

Chapter 5
    â€œCome on, sleepyhead.” Ken’s voice was as gentle as the hand that stroked her cheek. “Time to get up.”
    Chris blinked in the darkness, trying to