Explosive Engagement by LISA CHILDS Page B

following closely behind them, Logan passed through the foyer and then the living room, sparing the couch only a glance before dismissing it. It was leather and cold. Even if he’d taken the time to put blankets on it, she deserved better than a couch after the hellish day she’d had.
    But he didn’t have any guest rooms. The second bedroom of the two-bedroom ranch house held his home office. So he carried her to his bed, which was soft and warm with plaid flannel sheets and a comforter. When he laid her onto the mattress, she hooked her arm around his neck, pulling him down with her.
    After the long day he’d had, he should have been as exhausted as she was. He should have been willing to burrow into the blankets like she was and sleep. But if he laid down beside her gorgeous body, the last thing on his mind was going to be sleep. And some damn bodyguard he’d prove to be if he didn’t stay awake to protect her from whoever meant her harm.
    Harm? The bomb proved whoever was after her didn’t want her just hurt; he wanted her dead.
    Logan’s arms tightened for a moment, holding her close. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted her...which scared him more than someone shooting at him. He forced himself to release her and pull away. But he couldn’t get far enough away to stop wanting her—not without compromising her safety.
    He had to focus on protecting her. A cold shower might cool his reaction to having Stacy Kozminski in his house—in his bed. It might also stop his shoulder from throbbing and force him to think with his brain instead of another part of his body.
    And it wasn’t as if he was leaving her unprotected while he showered. She wasn’t alone in the bed any longer. Cujo had climbed onto the mattress beside her. His furry body was tense and his ears up and alert for any sound of an intruder.
    Eager to be rid of the tuxedo he hated wearing, he stripped off the jacket and then the shirt and left them in a trail that led to the master bathroom. But he held tight to the holster he’d removed with the shirt and placed his weapon on the granite counter within reach of the shower. He didn’t drop his pants and boxers until he closed the pocket door and shut out the sight of Stacy sleeping in his bed.
    He was too tempted to kick Cujo out of bed and take his place next to his mistress. His body throbbed, and it wasn’t just his shoulder. A bandage covered the stitches, but he wasn’t supposed to get it wet. He turned on the shower and stepped beneath the spray before the water had the chance to warm. It struck his skin like needles, nipping into his sensitive flesh. And he welcomed the pain.
    Heck, maybe he was a masochist. Maybe that was why he had become attracted to a woman who hated him. And if he actually agreed to her and his mother’s crazy plan to get married, it was destined to end badly. Painfully...
    For him.
    He glanced down at the bandage on his shoulder. Blood and water saturated the gauze and tape, and the wound beneath the bandage throbbed. But that pain was nothing in comparison to what she could do to him...
    Was that why she proposed? To get close enough to him that she could hurt him herself? He should have told her brothers the truth since he doubted it mattered to them whether he was their sister’s fiancé. They still wanted him dead. But maybe by posing as her fiancé, he could get close enough to them to find evidence like the gun or get them to confess to the attempts on his life.
    A menacing growl emanated from the bedroom. The sound raised more goose bumps on Logan’s flesh than the icy water had. He shut off the faucet and listened for whatever Cujo had heard. An engine rumbled in the driveway. And another...
    A couple of vehicles had driven up to his house. How many people were after him and Stacy?
    He grabbed a towel and hastily wrapped it around his hips before reaching for his holster and drawing his weapon. He slid open the pocket door to find Cujo standing on his bed, his