Free Jinxed by Inez Kelley Page B

her. An exhausting flight, increased work and, of course, meeting him. He knew he’d pushed every emotional button she had and he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Never in his life had he ever been as sure of anything as he was of his love for Frannie.
    The way a bolt of lightning splits a tree in two, love had shattered every pale dream he had for the future. Now the only dreams he had were about Frannie and a life with her. Nothing in his past mattered. From here on out, he vowed he would be with Frannie for every joy and every tear. This Happily Ever After had started the day he met her. But she was so timid when it came to trusting him, he knew he had to move carefully.
    It was a balancing act, a precarious juggle to hold her but not squeeze her so tight she ran. She had to want to be with him, to make a life with him. He couldn’t make her believe, any more than he could make her sprout horns. All he could do was feed her growing trust and hope she had enough faith in herself to let go of her fear. He knew fear, could read it in her eyes and in how she pushed him away. The same electrified love surging through his veins shone in her eyes—when she wasn’t spitting at him in fury. If she felt nothing, she’d have decked him when he kissed her the first time or kneed his crotch when he threw her over his shoulder. No, Frannie felt it, she just didn’t trust it. Time might help overcome that but he couldn’t wait. Waiting was the one thing he couldn’t do, couldn’t risk.
    He snagged his cell from his pocket and walked to the kitchen. He had plans to make. The rest of their lives began here. Now. Immediately.
     
    Frannie woke when Pocus jumped on her stomach and kneaded it. Groggy and thick-tongued, she caught the smell of food and breathed deep. She let her nose lead her to the brightly lit kitchen. She squinted against the harsh lights. Jinx stood at the stove, grating cheese into a skillet.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
    He sent her a bright smile and motioned to the coffee pot. “It’s fresh, help yourself. You only slept a bit over an hour but I thought I’d start dinner anyway. I hope ham and cheese omelets are okay. It’s just about all I could find to fix.”
    Frannie padded to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. Eyes clamped closed, holding the cup in front of her, she inhaled the rich fragrance deeply. Just the scent revitalized her. With a long sip, she turned and found him watching her.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” He smiled. “You look like an adorable sleepy raccoon.”
    Horrified, she sped into the hall bath and slammed the door. Her hair was flat on one side and completely tousled on the other. The tails of her silk blouse had come out of her skirt and her mascara-rimmed eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Groaning in embarrassment, she grabbed the hairbrush. Why couldn’t she be one of those women who woke up looking cute and sleep-tossed? No, she looked like an extra for a horror flick. Visine and a cool washcloth helped to banish all traces of wildlife. Her cosmetic bag was in her purse, wherever he had put it, so she settled for a freshly scrubbed look. Not that she had much choice. It was either that or slather on a freebie mud mask she found in the medicine cabinet.
    A snort burned her throat. Bet that look would send him racing to the hills. Exiting the bathroom, that sobering thought stayed with her.
    “What can I do to help?” she asked, feeling useless in her own kitchen.
    “You can start some toast if you want. These are just about ready.”
    While the bread toasted, Frannie finished her coffee and studied him. For such a large man, he moved with an easy grace that showed his confidence. He was comfortable in his own skin. And apparently in the kitchen.
    “So you can cook?”
    “I’m great with breakfast. Other than that, I can dial takeout with the best of them.” His eyes twinkled like wet coal. “What about you? Can you cook? Or are you a takeout