To Wed and Protect Read Free

got some figures for you on building a new porch. Is this a good time?”
    â€œYes, it’s fine,” she assured him and set her cup on the counter.
    As he spoke about the figures and dimensions of the deck, she tried to focus on his words and not on the sexy deepness of his voice. The man had a voice that was positively seductive.
    The conversation only took a few minutes. She agreed to the overall price he gave her, and he told her he would have lumber delivered to her home and get started first thing in the morning.
    When they hung up, Abby grabbed her coffee cup and headed through the living room and out the front door. Carefully stepping over the hole in the porch, she moved to sit on the rickety steps.
    Night had fallen, and the silence was profound. The house was just far enough on the outskirts of Inferno that no city noise was audible. And that was good. The quiet would be good for them all. No ambulance or police car sirens screaming urgency, sounds that always thrust the children into their painful past.
    She tilted her head to look at the stars that glittered against the black sky. Instantly she was reminded of Luke Delaney’s eyes. His eyes were gray with just enough of a silvery shine and with sinfully black lashes to make them positively breathtaking.
    She set her coffee mug aside, wondering if it was the hot brew that was making her overly warm—or thoughts of Luke Delaney.
    He’d definitely been a hunk, with his thick, curly black hair and those eyes with their devilish glint. The moment she’d seen him her dormant feminine hormones had whipped into life.
    It wasn’t just his beautiful eyes, rich dark hair or bold, handsome features that had instantly attracted her. It had also been the lean length of his legs in his tight, worn jeans and the tug of his T-shirt across impossibly broad shoulders.
    He’d filled the air with his presence, his scent, his utter masculinity, and he’d reminded her of all the things she’d given up when she’d chosen the path she was on.
    She’d hated lying to him, telling him they were from Chicago, but lying was not only necessary, it was positively vital to survival.
    She had invented a story for herself that she intended to adhere to. The story was that she was a widow from Chicago who had left the windy city because it held too many painful memories of her husband. A husband who, in reality, had never existed.
    Sighing, she wrapped her arms around herself and for just a moment allowed herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to be held through the night in strong, male arms. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to have male lips touching hers in a combustible kiss. Oh, how she used to love to kiss!
    She snapped her eyes open, recognizing that she was indulging in a perverse game of self-torture. Those days and nights of Ken were gone, lost beneath family tragedy, lost because he had turned out to be less than half the man she’d believed him to be.
    Ken was gone from her life, and there would be no more men for her. The most important things in herlife were the two children sleeping in the house where she intended to make a home.
    Draining her coffee, she stood and went into the silent house. Although it was still early, she decided to go to bed. Luke had said he’d begin work on the porch early in the morning, and she was exhausted.
    She entered her bedroom and stifled a moan as she saw the chaos. Since arriving here, all the unpacking had been done in the kids’ rooms, the living room and kitchen. Little had been done in this room.
    Boxes were everywhere, and clothes spilled out of an open suitcase on the floor. The only items she’d unpacked were the sheets that were on the bed, her alarm clock that sat on the nightstand and a colorful porcelain hummingbird that was also on the nightstand.
    She sank on the edge of the bed and picked up the hummingbird, the delicate porcelain