Free Explosive Engagement by LISA CHILDS Page A

Payne.
    Maybe he was just playing games with her, manipulating her with compliments and his mouth and his touch. His hands slid over her back to the curve of her hips, which he clutched, as he dragged her up close to the evidence of his desire for her. He couldn’t lie about that.
    He wanted her, too. And as if he intended to take her, he swung her up in his arms and headed toward the bedroom. But a low growl stopped him, and his hard body tensed.
    “Cujo,” she murmured. “It’s okay...”
    But it really wasn’t. Just hours ago Logan had accused her of trying to kill him and now he was kissing her? And worse yet, she was kissing him back. That wasn’t okay. It was insanity. But she lied to Cujo because she didn’t want the dog attacking Logan.
    She didn’t want him hurt.
    Someone else had another opinion, though, because shots rang out in earsplitting, violent succession. Bullets shattered glass and splintered wood. Shelves and pictures fell from the walls.
    Logan fell, too, taking her down with him. The near-dead weight of his long body pressed her into the carpeting of the living-room floor.
    Had he been hit again? And this time more critically than his grazed shoulder?

Chapter Seven
    Logan cursed himself as much as the shooter. How on earth was he supposed to protect Stacy when he allowed her to distract him so much that someone had been able to drive up to his house without his hearing the vehicle?
    Cujo had heard it. But Logan hadn’t reacted fast enough to the canine’s low growl. And the shots had rung out...
    His shoulder stung, but it was from the old wound. No bullets had grazed him this time. Flying glass hadn’t even hit him.
    But he stared down at Stacy. Like in the cemetery, her soft body cushioned his—having taken the brunt of the fall. “Are you all right?” he asked.
    Her gray eyes wide with fear, she nodded but flinched as more shots rang out.
    “Stay down,” he told her even as he rose slightly to ease his weight off her. But he kept his head down as the firing continued.
    She clutched at his arms, her fingers digging into his muscles as she held tightly to him. “You stay down, too.” Her eyes widened with more fear. “And Cujo!”
    The former K-9 barked at the door, digging at it in his urgency to escape and track down the shooter. But Logan heard the vehicle now, its tires squealing as it spun out of his driveway and back onto the street.
    He jumped up and reached for the weapon he’d left on the island counter. But then he had to grab for his slipping towel. It didn’t matter now. Even though he ran and threw open the door, he was too late to catch even a glimpse of the vehicle, let alone the shooter.
    They’d gotten away. Again. Like every attempt before...
    Cujo pushed past him and patrolled the drive, sniffing out probably every dropped shell. How many were they? How many shots had been fired?
    It was a wonder neither of them had been hit. Stacy had said she was okay. But was she?
    Logan hurried back inside the house. She hadn’t moved yet. She was lying on the floor. Still. “Are you really all right?” he asked.
    “Are they gone?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he assured her.
    As if she’d been holding it the entire time, her breath shuddered out in a ragged sigh that drew his attention to her breasts. They nearly spilled over the top of her black bra. His shirt had fallen open across that decadent black bra and the matching panties. He groaned in frustration—of his attraction and that the shooter had interrupted them.
    Then he tore his gaze from her and looked around his house, assessing the damage. The windows were broken, shattered glass scattered about the hardwood floor. Bullets had knocked pictures and shelves from the walls and penetrated the drywall.
    “I should have known better...” he berated himself. Just days ago, Tanya’s apartment had been shot up, but those bullets had missed Cooper and the woman who was now his wife. The shots had gone into the ceiling