Outfoxed by Love (Kodiak Point Book 2) by Eve Langlais Page A

this time of year and out here wasn’t easy. In spite of their sad state, whoever got them must have paid a pretty penny, the fucking jerk. “Care to explain this?”
    She cast a glance at the bouquet. “They’re flowers. Roses to be exact.”
    “And who are they from?”
    “Doesn’t matter, because I don’t want them.”
    “ Why not? They’re from your boyfriend,” he snapped.
    Her face brightened, and Boris felt a pang of hurt at her obvious joy at the mention of the man he so wanted to kill. “My boyfriend? Is that what you’re calling yourself now?” she asked with a smile.
    Say what? “Me? I’m not your bloody boyfriend. I’m talking about the secretive bastard who left these in your truck. You could have told me before I kissed you that you were seeing somebody.”
    The joy lighting her face extinguished , and it didn’t take long for him to grasp the misunderstanding as she said, “I don’t have a boyfriend, and if you aren’t the one who bought me these flowers, then I have no idea what or whom you’re talking about.”
    “ So you don’t have a boyfriend?” he repeated. It didn’t escape him that when she’d thought he referred to himself she’d seemed more than happy.
    “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I did,” she retorted. “I might have a sex ually healthy appetite, but I’m not a two-timing light skirt.”
    “But then who are these from?” he asked , perversely pleased at Jan’s single state.
    “How would I know? I’ve never seen them before. First I heard of them was when you threw them on my desk. You said you found them in my truck? What were you doing snooping in it?”
    “I wasn’t snooping. I saw something suspicious and investigated.”
    “Of course, because rare blooms are so dangerous.” She rolled her eyes.
    “Stop mocking me. ”
    “Then stop acting like a donkey instead of a moose.”
    Before they got further off track, he jabbed a finger at the wilting foliage. “So you don’t know who they’re from?”
    “Not yet. But I intend to find out.” Then, in a move women everywhere must have bargained for with the devil, she proceeded to put his sleuthing skills to shame and mak e him look like an ass—instead of a moose—by pulling out an envelope tucked amidst the leaves.
    A less -than-rational part of him thought he should grab it and read it first. And then hunt down the guy who left it, beat him to a pulp and teach him to poach a moose’s vixen.
    The cold soldier who’d learned to compartmentalize throttled that impulse and watched dispassionately—with fists clenched—as she opened it, read it, and gasped.

Chapter Seven
    Elation to dismay, and all in the space of minutes.
    Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. When Boris stalked back in bearing a bouquet of roses and tossed them on her desk claiming they were from her boyfriend, for one brief shining moment, she’d actually thought he meant himself. That in the past few weeks, where their glimpses of each other proved scarce because Boris kept himself busy with out-of-town trips, he’d had time to think things over. Surely he’d relived the kisses they’d shared. The passion that simmered. Like her, he must feel the magnetic draw between them.
    No t even close. She’d misconstrued his words. He wasn’t declaring himself with the flowers. He was accusing her … of what exactly? You couldn’t cheat on someone who didn’t belong to you.
    Striving to keep a hold of her emotions, Jan distracted herself by plucking free the card in the leaves and reading the note.
    A gasp escaped her. “Oh, how romantic.”
    Roses are red, snow is pure white,
    As a vixen you are stunning,
    One day you’ll be my wife.
    Signed, Your Ghostly admirer.
    Th e missive was practically ripped from her grip as Boris grabbed it. He scanned it, his lips tightening, his brow creasing, a rumble shaking his frame. In that moment, he was more animal than man. So sexy. Especially since she finally grasped the reason for his