The Edge of Dawn Read Online Free Page A

at the stove tending bacon frying in a skillet.
    â€œHello,” he called out. “Hope you don’t mind having breakfast. I’m cooking enough for two if you want some.”
    A kidnapper who cooked breakfast at noon, and in sunglasses, no less. She noted that at least he’d taken off the High Noon coat. The navy turtleneck and the worn pair of jeans showed off the lean fitness of his six-foot-plus frame. The army boots were as dirty as they’d been earlier and he still hadn’t shaved.
    â€œDo you eat bread?” he asked, now standing by the toaster.
    She found the question odd. “Yes, why?”
    â€œFashion types like you don’t always eat bread. Didn’t want to waste it.”
    â€œFashion types?” she asked skeptically, coolly.
    â€œYeah.” He dropped the bread into the slots, then went back to the skillet where the bacon was frying nicely.
    Narice took a seat on one of the counter’s stools anddrawled, “And here I thought I was just a kidnap victim.”
    He grinned a bit. “Just going by the way you dress.”
    â€œAnd if I judged you by the way you dress, what would you be, besides a kidnapper?”
    â€œOuch,” he yelped. “You’re hard on a brother.” Using a long-handled fork he lifted the now-done bacon from the pan and laid it on a paper towel–covered plate. “My sister says I look like an outlaw.”
    â€œDoes she know you kidnap women?”
    He made an elaborate show of thinking that over, then said, “Nope.” He added, “Did I mention that I’m with the good guys?”
    â€œYou did.”
    â€œYou’re not acting like you believe me.”
    â€œMaybe, because I don’t.”
    â€œYou think a bad guy would cook you this kind of breakfast, at this time of day?” he asked, stirring what appeared to be a small pot of grits. “Bad guys would feed you mouse burgers.”
    She couldn’t help it. She smiled.
    He paused for a moment to watch her. “I wondered if you knew how to do that.”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œSmile.”
    Narice tried to shrug it off. “Okay, so you’re charming. Proves nothing.”
    â€œYou think I’m charming?”
    â€œI think you’re fishing for compliments.”
    â€œAm I?”
    He set a plate before her that had on it scrambled eggs, bacon, and a small steaming helping of grits. She looked into the dark glasses and did her best to ignore the pure male essence he exuded. “Yes, you are, but thanks for breakfast anyway.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he replied, then went to fix his own plate.
    The meal was surprisingly good.
    He asked, “How’s my cooking?”
    â€œNot bad. They teach you this in kidnapper school?”
    â€œYep. First day.”
    She met his shaded eyes. “You get an A.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œWhy do you wear sunglasses indoors?”
    â€œI’m nocturnal.”
    Her voice was skeptical. “Nocturnal.”
    â€œYeah, sorta like a cheetah.”
    She shook her head. A nocturnal kidnapper.
    He raised his cup of coffee to his lips. “Besides, Parliamentfunkadelic says you can’t be cool without your shades.”
    Skepticism colored her tone once more. “Parliamentfunkadelic.”
    â€œYou know, Sir Nose. George Clinton. The P-funk?”
    She wondered how many women melted on the spot under his golden, unshaven good looks. He was insane, but gorgeous. “I know who they are.”
    â€œGood.” He had the nerve to grin.
    Her heart had the nerve to skip a beat. Angry at herself for softening to a man who’d snatched her off the street and was holding her against her will, she asked, “Is there any juice?”
    He observed her for a long moment. “In the fridge. Stuff gives me hives, but help yourself.”
    Glad to put some distance between herself and him, even if for just a few seconds, Narice slid from