seeing Breanna’s reaction to her experience with Kurt, he wasn’t at all sure that she would allow Maggie to have anything to do with Kurt’s family. The minute she mentioned Kurt, it was like a noxious poison released into her blood. It was obvious she hated him.
He had no idea what Kurt had told Breanna about his family. He knew that in the past, when it had best served his needs, Kurt had painted his parents as unloving, uncaring people. What stories had Kurt told Breanna? How black had he painted his mother and father?
Adam needed to find out what Breanna knew about his aunt and uncle. He needed to make her see that they would be a loving, caring presence in Maggie’s life.
His desire to stay and get to know her a little better had nothing to do with the fact that her scent made him just a little bit dizzy, that the liquid depths of her dark eyes made him feel a little like he was drowning.
It was crazy. He had to remind himself that she was one of Kurt’s women, and his job here was simply to clean up the mess Kurt had left behind…just as Adam had done so many times in the past.
His interest in Breanna had nothing to do with the fact that she was a beautiful woman, but rather with the fact that he had made a vow to a dying man.
He rubbed a hand across his lower jaw, unsurprised to feel the scrub of whisker stubble despite the fact that he’d shaved that morning. Thoughts of the day and Breanna continued to fill his head.
She’d asked him if he wanted a wife and children and he’d told her definitely not, and that was the truth. Well, a wife wouldn’t be too bad…as long as she didn’t want children.
Adam had seen firsthand the grief, the utter ripping and tearing children could do to their parents’ hearts. He’d grown up hearing his aunt crying in the night, seeing his uncle’s hollow eyes when Kurt had disappointed or hurt them yet again.
There was no way in hell Adam intended to go through that with children of his own. He’d done everything in his power to be the kind of son that would make his aunt and uncle proud, but it hadn’t counted because their own son had been such a mess.
He stood, suddenly too restless to sit. If he intended to stay here a little longer and not tell Breanna exactly who he was, then he probably needed to buy some art supplies to continue the illusion of his subterfuge.
The kitchen was dark as he walked in, but light shone through the window and he knew the it was from Breanna’s kitchen.
He’d noticed the night before that her kitchen window faced his with a scant eight feet or so between them. He certainly didn’t want to peep, but found himself drawn to the window in spite of his good intentions.
Sure enough, her light was on, but there was no sign of her. However, what he saw outside her window fired a burst of adrenaline through him. A man stood on the top of her air-conditioning unit, framed against the house, obviously looking in.
Adam tore across his kitchen, through the living room and out his front door. He rounded the corner of the house, crashing through a bush.
The man whirled around at the noise and fell off the air conditioner. “Hey,” Adam exclaimed as he raced toward him.
Adam never saw what the man used to hit him in the head. He only saw the man’s arm arc out, then felt the tremendous blow that knocked him backward and to the ground.
He was vaguely aware of footsteps running away and an array of stars swimming in his head as he struggled to sit up.
“What in the hell is going on?”
The stars receded and he followed the sound of the voice to see Breanna, gun drawn and pointed at him.
“You’ve got to stop pointing that at me,” he said, surprised that his voice seemed to be coming from some distance away. “One of these times you’re going to shoot me and I’m a good guy.”
The stars spun faster in his head, then blinked out and Adam knew no more.
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