He paused. “Yeah? Did your dad die too?”
“No. I never knew him.” Genevieve wiped her hands on a towel and turned around. “I wish there was some way to get word down.”
“Yeah, well. What can you do, right? Like I said, I’ve probably hit my quota for miracles this week. You know, with the gorgeous woman saving my life and all.”
Her face flushed at the warmth and clear sexual interest in his tone and smile, but she disguised her flustered state with a toss of her head. She walked over to her small cupboard and pulled out a blanket.
“What are you doing?”
“I need a blanket. I have a couch out there. That’s where I’ll sleep.” Their eyes met, and by the wicked glint in his eyes, Genevieve knew he must recall exactly where she’d slept that first night. To her relief, though, he didn’t bring it up.
“You’re going to bed?”
She shrugged. “I thought you might want to sleep. Figured I would read for a while.”
“Could you read out here?” He grimaced. “I’m not tired, and I think I’ll go crazy if I have to lie out here by myself. It’s so damn quiet outside.”
“City boy. You aren’t used to the quiet?” Yet another difference between them. She loved the solitude.
Okay, so it got a bit trying sometimes. The pros outweighed the cons.
“Not at all.”
It was a small enough concession to make. Honestly, she didn’t want to leave his presence just yet. “Fine. Do you want something to read too?”
“I don’t think I could concentrate. Could you read to me?”
“Um. I guess so. What would you like to read?” She tucked the blanket under her arm and went over to her bookshelf.
“Whatever you were planning on is fine.”
She tossed a wry glance over her shoulder. “All of my new releases are romances. I doubt you’ll be interested.”
He shrugged. “That sounds fine. I like romances.”
Genevieve snorted. The idea of this man’s man reading a book with heaving bosoms on the cover was laughable at best. “Seriously?”
A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Are you kidding me? We didn’t havePlayboyslying around for me to discover as an adolescent—I got a nice education from the Harlequins my mom read.” His brow wrinkled. “Though I do remember wondering why so many virgins appealed to Greek tycoons.”
She laughed. That made twice now. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d become downright jolly around him. “I think that’s a question for the ages.” She perused her latest stack of books and chose the least explicit-looking one. The last thing she needed to do was read him something erotic or sexy.
Genevieve stoked the fire and then sat cross-legged next to him. She opened the book but had a bit of trouble concentrating on the writing when he shifted to get comfortable. The firelight played over the muscles of his chest, and she was abruptly reminded of his nakedness below the sheet.
Get over it.Genevieve opened the book and began to read. Other than her voice, the room was silent except for their breathing and the crackle of the fire.
It was a peaceful feeling, and she slipped into the rhythm and pace of the story, everything fading around her until she became absorbed. She’d only read to her mother when she was sick, and she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it.
When the log gave a particularly loud crack, she jumped, pulled out of the book. She was surprised to note how many chapters she’d read, that her throat was hoarse. She looked down at Alex, certain he’d fallen asleep.
Instead, his gaze was direct on hers, wide and unblinking. “Are you tired?” he rumbled.
She shook her head.
“Why did you stop?”
Could a voice be intimate? He used that tone, that low, deep tone, and Genevieve felt like he’d reached out and nibbled on her neck. “My throat hurts.”
He shifted. “Maybe we should stop for tonight then.”
