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

cold feet.
    And that thing made her want to take
his face in her hands and kiss the hell out of him until they were
both giddy and reeling from heady emotions and intense chemistry.
Only that wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more. A lot more.
    Look away. Look away now. Before you do
something you shouldn’t do.
    She didn’t look away, but Brett did the
honorable thing and broke eye contact and let go of her hand.
    Flustered, Estie pushed away from the
counter and opened the oven door. Thank God she hadn’t burned
dinner. She busied herself slicing the pizza while she calmed her
pounding heart and caught her breath. Her hand still tingled from
the touch of his fingers.
    Brett said nothing as soft jazz music
floated around them. He glanced down when Marilyn sidled up to him
and put her head on his lap. Brett patted her and soft smile
turning up his lips at the corners. “Hey, gorgeous, where’ve you
been all my life?” Marilyn gave him her baby browns and leaned
against him, her doggy version of a come on. Brett grinned down at
her, as smitten with Marilyn as Marilyn was with him.
    “Watch it, she’s a charmer. She’ll wrap you
around those paws, and you’ll be feeding her dog biscuits for
life.”
    Brett looked up, his expression unreadable,
except for that ever-present hint of underlying sadness. “I’d like
that.”
    Estie ducked her head and turned away. She
put a couple slices of pizza on two plates and slid them across the
counter. Brett washed his hands at the kitchen sink, joining her at
the counter. They munched in silence, while Marilyn, Risky, and
Dozer panted in the background. Spock and Jim sat on opposite arms
of the couch, tails switching.
    It was a weirdly romantic scene for two
people dedicated to the animals they loved. If only Estie could
capture this moment and stuff it in a locket to keep close to her
heart.
    * * * * *
    Brett chewed on the pizza and stared at the
kitchen cabinets for the lack of anything else to stare at besides
Estie. He felt her next to him as strongly as if she were touching
him. Her sweet perfume floated around him, teasing his nostrils. He
glanced at Risky, who was lined up next to Marilyn and Dozer as
they all sat on their haunches waiting for a crumb to fall. Risky
appeared fully aware of the competition on either side of him, yet
still hopeful.
    He watched as she aligned her napkin, fork,
and plate and almost smiled. He found her little habits oddly
endearing.
    Brett stood and poured himself more wine and
snatched a few more pieces of pizza, taking his seat once again,
hyperaware of every move Estie made, every breath she took—even the
sounds of her chewing on pizza aroused him.
    This was so fucked up.
    She liked him as a friend and a fellow
animal lover. The woman was engaged, for Christ’s sake. Brett never
messed with married women, engaged women, or even women with
boyfriends. It was part of the code he’d lived by and always would
live by because if a guy didn’t have his honor, he had nothing—one
of the few good things his father had taught him over the
years.
    Brett blew out a breath, not wanting to
travel down that guilt-ridden path. Despite living in the same
area, he avoided his family except for holidays, which were pure
hell. They pretty much left him alone even though they considered
him a rich NFL player. His parents lived on a retired Boeing
machinist’s salary, and his father gambled most of it away.
    Brett felt Estie’s eyes on him, just like he
felt everything about her in this weird, crazy-assed way. “What?”
he asked.
    “You look so serious. So…sad.”
    “I’m not sad, just resigned.”
    “Is it football?”
    “No, family.”
    “Ahhh.” Spoken like a woman who knew exactly
what he was talking about. “Can’t live with ’em and can’t murder
’em so what the hell do you do?”
    “Avoid them?” Brett offered with a
chuckle.
    “I could be so lucky. You’ve met my
brother.”
    “Yeah, good luck with that.” And he thought
he