Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) by Jami Davenport Page A

he will be. He’s never made
a mess.” They rose to their feet and Risky glommed onto Brett once
again. Brett held the leash—not that the poor dog was going
anywhere—and followed Estie into the house. One at a time they
introduced Risky to her two dogs. He immediately rolled on his back
and went into a passive role, but at least he didn’t pee all over
himself and the hardwood floor.
    Finally, the dogs settled down while the
cats regarded the new interloper with the disdain only a cat can
show.
    Estie put the pizza in the pre-heated oven,
tossed a salad, and poured them each a glass of good Eastern
Washington wine. Brett sat down at the small breakfast bar,
watching her, and in his typical quiet way, not saying much. She
could feel his eyes, feel the heat of his gaze and knew he found
her as attractive as she found him. God, she wanted to jump the
man’s bones, run her fingernails down his breastbone, his abdomen,
across his flat stomach and on into never-never-land. On the other
hand, never say never.
    She couldn’t deny the chemistry. It’d been
instantaneous the minute she’d opened the door that first night and
stared into his pale blue eyes, seen his uncertainty braced up by
an inner strength that very few men held. Her animals adored him.
Spock and Jim left the comfort of their cat bed to check him out.
Brett didn’t seem to mind a bit as they rubbed orange and white cat
hair on his jeans. Estie grinned even wider.
    “They really like you.”
    “I’m a cat person and a dog
person.”
    “And a bird person.”
    “Not sure about birds yet.” Brett laughed, a
heartwarming sound. Spock leapt into his lap, while Jim wrapped his
big paws around Brett’s leg and hung on. Brett winced as Jim dug in
his claws but didn’t stop petting either animal.
    “Meet Spock and Jim.”
    “You’re a Trekkie, too?” Brett shook his
head, as if this news was too good to be true.
    “Uh, yeah, I even love the originals. Seen
them all a dozen times.”
    “Me, too.”
    Lord, one more thing they had in common.
    Brett rested his chin on his hands. “So what
made you decide to go into finance? The way you love animals, I’d
have thought you’d go that direction.”
    Estie shrugged one shoulder and wiped crumbs
off the counter. Brett had asked the very question she’d buried
deep inside since her father died. No one had ever questioned her
choice of careers before. It’d just been assumed, since she had a
talent for numbers and details. “I started out keeping track of my
siblings and my piggy bank change, writing down every little thing.
From there it went to an after-school and summer job in high school
helping with the books in my dad’s firm. By the time I was
eighteen, I knew I’d go into finance.”
    “I see. I’m thrifty, but not exactly
dedicated at keeping records, not that I spend much money. I don’t
even own a house, yet, just renting from a former teammate in
exchange for doing some repairs on the house.”
    “I wish I was handy like that. I mean, I can
paint, mow the lawn, that type of thing, but I can’t really do home
repairs or—God forbid—run a skill saw without losing fingers.”
    Brett chuckled and grabbed her right hand,
most likely an impulsive gesture, but she liked it. He made a show
of counting her fingers, his eyes sparkling with devilish
merriment. “You’ve managed to avoid saws so far.”
    “I’m smarter than I look.” She shot back and
laughed.
    “I think you look plenty smart.” He didn’t
let go of her hand but held it loosely in his calloused one. He had
surprisingly big hands for a guy his height—hands as big as
Tyler’s, and Tyler was six-foot-four. She could’ve pulled her hand
away, could’ve done the smart thing and kept her distance. She
didn’t. Their gazes locked, and there it went again—that thing that
stopped the world from spinning, her heart from beating, and her
brain from thinking.
    The very thing she’d chalked up to
overactive hormones or wedding