Hunted Love (A Dangerous Kind of Love Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

yet. This night was never going to end , she thought laying her chin on her arms.
    She felt as if she had been awake for days. Probably have , she thought trying to remember when was the last time she had slept a full eight hours. She had been so tired that she had changed into her pink and white striped silk pajamas as soon as she finished eating. She would have gone to bed then, but she didn’t want to leave Jamie alone until his friend arrived.
    Not that Jamie needed her. The man was frustratingly adept at taking care of himself and seemed steadfastly determined not to be a burden to her, despite the fact she was more than ready and willing to help.
    She glanced over at him, standing by the window, staring outside with the quilt wrapped around his shoulders.
    “Is your friend here yet?” she asked through a yawn.
    “No.” He moved the curtain back further. “Are you sure you told him—”
    “I told him exactly what you said and he said he had a couple more patients to see but he’d come as soon as he could.”
    She watched as Jamie pressed his forehead against the cold glass.
    “Jamie, let me take you to the hospital. The police aren’t looking for you. There’s nothing to fear.”
    “It’s too late.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s snowing again. Too dangerous to get out on those roads.” He pushed himself off the window. “I thought Brian would have been here by now.”
    “Maybe he had to turn back. Do you want me to call him?”
    “No,” he said, resuming his pacing.
    She frowned at him. “I wish you’d wear that sling I made for you.”
    “I’m fine. I don’t need it.”
    “At least sit down before you fall down,” she said, exhaustion and worry making her tone sharper than usual.
    He looked at her in surprise for a moment before sliding into the chair across from her.
    She softened her tone. “You’ve barely touched your dinner,” she said, staring down at the bowl of chicken soup in front of him. “I could make some Shepard’s pie. I have Harry’s recipe,” she said, referring to the old cook at the pub where she worked.
    Jamie grimaced.
    “I thought you liked his Shepard’s pie.” She furrowed her brow. “You’re always ordering it.”
    “That’s because it’s the only thing on the menu that’s half-way edible.” He shook his head. “I wish you’d find another place to work.”
    “Why? Tips are good.”
    “Come on, Princess, it’s not like you need the money. You’ve got an education. You’re talented.”
    “No, I was talented,” she corrected, “but not anymore.” Her hand unconsciously moved to her knee. A vicious mugging last July—courtesy of her sister’s sick stalker—had ended her ballet career in New York and sent her running back home to recuperate. While she could still dance, she’d never be able to reach the heights she once did. Whatever talent she had was gone now and as far as she was concerned, it was useless to dwell or pretend otherwise.
    “You could—”
    “Dance?”
    “Teach. You could open up your own dancing studio. I remember when you started at the pub that you said it was eventually your plan to own your own place. Teach little kids to dance. You said as soon as your leg healed that was what you were going to do.” He lifted his eyebrows. “You’ve been walking around pretty well lately.”
    “Walking’s not exactly the same thing as dancing.” She looked away. “Dancing is behind me. I’m looking to the future now.”
    “I see,” he said quietly. “So your future consists of serving alcohol and barely edible food to a bunch of drunks and gamblers now.”
    “No,” she said testily, “I don’t plan on doing this for the rest of my life.” She traced her finger along the edge of the table. “It’s just that the pub is close to home right now. It’s easy to get to and it gets me out talking to people.”
    “You could do that anywhere.”
    “You didn’t see me right after I got mugged.” She reached a hand