Just Fooling Around: Darcy's Dark Day/Reg's Rescue\Cam's Catastrophe/Devon's Dilemma by Julie Kenner, Kathleen O'Reilly Page A
Authors: Julie Kenner, Kathleen O'Reilly
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Fiction - Romance, Romance - Contemporary, Romance - General, Romance: Modern
Ads: Link
howling. Not quite an animal. But it could be an animal. A bear. A lion. A zombie. In Devon’s mind, all were highly probable.
From outside the house, the moaning noises continued, but there was absolutely no way she would investigate. Nope, she would bury her head under the duvet and live out the next twenty-four hours in blissful ostrich-buried-head-in-the-sand-I-know-nothing mode.
But what if it was something bad? asked that incessant voice inside her head.
The doorbell rang, and Devon lifted the comforter away from her face, opening one cautious eye. On the wall opposite her bed, the bank of security monitors showed an empty doorstep, with a dark shadow hovering just beyond the porch. An intruder?
Statistically, in a town with a population of four hundred and thirty-seven, intruders or burglars were unlikely. As her wretched inquisitiveness began to take hold, though, she lowered the covers another inch. Over the years she had learned that no matter how she tried, problems didn’t go away when you ignored them, they merely smashed through windows (April 1, 2000), orroofs (April 1, 1982), or drove through the living room (April 1, 1993).
But Devon was more determined than most of her family. She’d finally wised up and had pimped out her tidy two-room cottage into a modified nuclear bunker, outfitted with a state-of-the-art monitor and surveillance system, all nooks and crannies visible from every room, and best of all, fashionably accentuated in a cheery yellow.
Each room contained a row of screens that displayed a live feed of all the other rooms in the house, including the exterior perimeter. If disaster was going to strike, Devon wanted to know in advance.
The ordinary citizen would consider the elaborate setup overkill. However, the ordinary citizen would have suffered a psychotic breakdown from the streak of April firsts that she’d had.
Devon, never a dummy, had learned.
The doorbell rang, and this time the shadow was fully visible on the monitor. Not Morpheus, no, this was a man. Human, living, breathing, and looking almost…sane.
His dark T-shirt clung to a brawny chest, and flexing arm muscles were artfully displayed as he leaned on her doorframe.
Thanks to the rain, his dark hair was plastered like a skullcap to a nicely formed head, and in spite of the weather, he seem calm and fairly controlled. The overhang of her porch wasn’t doing much to keep him out of the storm. A wave of drops washed over his face, and he dragged a hand through his slicked hair, pushing it away from his face.
A magnificent face. Chiseled and thin, with a dimpled chin and a mouth that looked as tasty as ice cream, maybe tastier. His eyes were the best feature. Pale underneath black brows and spiked black lashes, they gleamed as if he were actually enjoying himself.
Although it was 3:00 a.m. on April Fools’ Day, Devon’s lady parts were especially wide awake.
For a few dazzling seconds she stared as the rain sluiced over his face, along the broad shelf of his shoulders. It was like watching a guy in one of those soap commercials, those devious marketing ploys where the product was for a male, but the target audience were women who would be goggle-eyed over a bare-chested young man relishing his sensual time alone in the shower.
Her legs twitched and she realized the inherent dangers of this situation.
Aroused or not, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually answer the door.
As if sensing her momentary weakness, the doorbell rang again, the monitor showing a determined bent to the man’s jaw, as if he knew someone was home, and through evil, sexy-man, mind-control powers could lure her to respond to his call.
Not in this lifetime, buddy. Pick another sap.
Devon pulled the duvet over her head because she could be more stubborn than anybody, anytime.
The doorbell rang again.
And again.
And again.
This time, he left his finger on the bell, one long, very annoying ring that echoed behind her eyes like a
From outside the house, the moaning noises continued, but there was absolutely no way she would investigate. Nope, she would bury her head under the duvet and live out the next twenty-four hours in blissful ostrich-buried-head-in-the-sand-I-know-nothing mode.
But what if it was something bad? asked that incessant voice inside her head.
The doorbell rang, and Devon lifted the comforter away from her face, opening one cautious eye. On the wall opposite her bed, the bank of security monitors showed an empty doorstep, with a dark shadow hovering just beyond the porch. An intruder?
Statistically, in a town with a population of four hundred and thirty-seven, intruders or burglars were unlikely. As her wretched inquisitiveness began to take hold, though, she lowered the covers another inch. Over the years she had learned that no matter how she tried, problems didn’t go away when you ignored them, they merely smashed through windows (April 1, 2000), orroofs (April 1, 1982), or drove through the living room (April 1, 1993).
But Devon was more determined than most of her family. She’d finally wised up and had pimped out her tidy two-room cottage into a modified nuclear bunker, outfitted with a state-of-the-art monitor and surveillance system, all nooks and crannies visible from every room, and best of all, fashionably accentuated in a cheery yellow.
Each room contained a row of screens that displayed a live feed of all the other rooms in the house, including the exterior perimeter. If disaster was going to strike, Devon wanted to know in advance.
The ordinary citizen would consider the elaborate setup overkill. However, the ordinary citizen would have suffered a psychotic breakdown from the streak of April firsts that she’d had.
Devon, never a dummy, had learned.
The doorbell rang, and this time the shadow was fully visible on the monitor. Not Morpheus, no, this was a man. Human, living, breathing, and looking almost…sane.
His dark T-shirt clung to a brawny chest, and flexing arm muscles were artfully displayed as he leaned on her doorframe.
Thanks to the rain, his dark hair was plastered like a skullcap to a nicely formed head, and in spite of the weather, he seem calm and fairly controlled. The overhang of her porch wasn’t doing much to keep him out of the storm. A wave of drops washed over his face, and he dragged a hand through his slicked hair, pushing it away from his face.
A magnificent face. Chiseled and thin, with a dimpled chin and a mouth that looked as tasty as ice cream, maybe tastier. His eyes were the best feature. Pale underneath black brows and spiked black lashes, they gleamed as if he were actually enjoying himself.
Although it was 3:00 a.m. on April Fools’ Day, Devon’s lady parts were especially wide awake.
For a few dazzling seconds she stared as the rain sluiced over his face, along the broad shelf of his shoulders. It was like watching a guy in one of those soap commercials, those devious marketing ploys where the product was for a male, but the target audience were women who would be goggle-eyed over a bare-chested young man relishing his sensual time alone in the shower.
Her legs twitched and she realized the inherent dangers of this situation.
Aroused or not, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually answer the door.
As if sensing her momentary weakness, the doorbell rang again, the monitor showing a determined bent to the man’s jaw, as if he knew someone was home, and through evil, sexy-man, mind-control powers could lure her to respond to his call.
Not in this lifetime, buddy. Pick another sap.
Devon pulled the duvet over her head because she could be more stubborn than anybody, anytime.
The doorbell rang again.
And again.
And again.
This time, he left his finger on the bell, one long, very annoying ring that echoed behind her eyes like a
Similar Books
