The Bodyguard's Baby (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) by Kristi Avalon

eyes, she shook her head. “Of course you do.”
    When she took the occasional break from writing classroom lesson plans, she peered at him from the ice-frosted window. He resembled a mighty Celtic warrior, strong and proud, throwing himself into the manly task of wood chopping.
    Seeing him in the light of a primitive “provider” role, she felt ribbons of lust curling through her abdomen.  She couldn’t help it. Her body reacted powerfully to the sexy sight of him wielding an ax. Probably some ancient, ingrained feminine response to watching a muscular stud overpowering nature with brute force. So weird. But since it happened so often, she’d stopped questioning her body’s innate attraction to this man.
    Displaying super human strength, withstanding the frigid temperatures and sheeting snow, Slone went at the tree branches with a vengeance. He managed to reduce the broken tented branches to perfectly hewn firewood, and stacked it neatly in the garage next to his truck.
    Eventually, his obsessive gusto caused her a flicker of concern. After several hours had passed, she knew he shouldn’t be out there all day like this, wearing only a flannel-lined canvas L.L. Bean coat, tan work boots, leather gloves, and a black knit ski cap. And she told him so when she bundled up and brought him a mug of hot chocolate.
    “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she reminded, hoping he related to the reference and decided not to over-do it.
    Breathing heavily, he drove the beveled edge of the ax into a thick branch on the ground. He wiped sweat from his brow, tugged off his gloves using his teeth, and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. Then he stepped back, standing beside her as he calculated his progress. “This is nothing,” he said.
    “It’s quite a lot,” she countered. “And unnecessary. What do you have against this poor tree anyway?”
    “The tree’s fine. It’ll recover no problem, once the dead weight is gone.” He sipped hot chocolate. “We’re running low on firewood anyway. Why spend a fortune at the store when there’s plenty here for free?”
    For a moment her gaze lingered on his lips, and liquid sensation slipped through her veins. She wanted his mouth against hers again, only this time she didn’t want him to stop kissing her. Then she noticed the puffy red pockets of skin forming along the L-shape of his left thumb and forefinger. “Nothing to kill yourself over. Blisters are painful.”
    He shook his head. “Like I said, this is nothing.” He removed his black hat, letting the breeze ruffle his sweat-spiked hair. “Every summer break from school, I spent a solid month with Uncle Jimmy in the woods, thinning out the forest and chopping up logs. Backbreaking, but good hard work, with results you see at the end of the day.”
    “Why go to so much trouble?” She couldn’t fathom.
    Wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve, he returned his hat, tugging it down over his red ears. “Uncle Jimmy’s house had a wood-burning furnace. Rural Kentucky, remember.” He smiled fondly. “Just me and him in the forest, dawn till dusk, stockpiling thousands of logs for fuel in his basement to prep for the winter months.”
    “That’s impressive.”
    “Kind of like meditation.” As he sipped from his mug, he sent her a sidelong glance. “You get it.”
    “I do.” She smiled. “That makes sense.”
    “Something about being surrounded by all those old trees. I don’t know. There’s something spiritual about a forest, seeing the cycles of nature everywhere you look. Puts things into perspective. Empties your head of stupid crap. Makes you appreciate the land and what it provides for your survival.”
    “How eco-conscious of you,” she pointed out.
    He snorted. “Yeah, something like that. I guess I miss those summers. Hell at the time, but valuable looking back.”
    A reverent smile slid across her lips, appreciating the deeper aspects to this man. He’d probably jump off a cliff before he