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BOOK 7
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Being Yours BOOK 7
'Of course we’d have a bill-of-sale, only it isn’t. . .’ Jackson reached out with one hand, gripped her upper arm and pulled her to him. ‘Don’t try to lie and tell me it isn’t here.’‘I ... I wasn’t.’ Though that was exactly what she’d intended to do. She needed to buy some time so she could question Emily and Penny without Jackson listening. ‘Why are you assuming it’s stolen? Are you preprogrammed to always think the worst of me?’‘The vase is hot, Rachel.’‘How do I know that? Because you say so?’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘You come into my store throwing accusations without backing them up. How do I know you didn’t plant it yourself? I don’t know you that well, either, Jackson. Maybe you’re so desperate to save your business you’ll sabotage mine, offer me up as a sacrificial lamb.’He pushed closer, trapped her between the wall and his body. She thought about struggling, but knew the effort would be futile. Besides, she wasn’t afraid of him - what he could do to her business, y
Being Yours BOOK 7
'Excuse me.' Jackson tugged on his hand, but the cunning little witch refused to loose her grip on him. He wasn’t going to fall for the pleading look in her eyes or the smoky seductiveness of her voice. She was up to something, and she was right when she’d said he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t. Not one damn bit. ‘Just what kind of game are you playing?’Her silky lashes flickered as if she was taken back by his challenging tone. ‘It’s not a game. What I have in mind makes perfect sense.’Cold air pumped through the vents, but sweat beaded on his forehead. Whether it was from the morning heat, finding the vase in Rachel’s store or because of her hold on him, he couldn’t decide. ‘Then spell it out for me, quick, because I’m leaving in two minutes.’‘All right, let’s look at the facts. Rare, expensive items are being stolen. I didn’t take them, but somehow two of them have ended up in my store.’ ‘There are only two because I haven’t searched your house yet, which I intend to rectify,’ hei
Being Yours BOOK 7
Arriving with the destructive force of a flash flood, Jackson’s dark eyes took on the appearance of bruised clouds whipped with icy rain. The air around him sizzled with trapped electricity. The hair on Rachel’s arms stood on end, tracking a path up to her nape where tingles crept across her scalp. She thought it odd for the sky to be clear and crisp and softening with the approaching dusk. Heated wind should be beating against the wooden slats of her house, while stinging rain slashed her windows. But the storm had come inside - with her. Somehow she had to get rid of it.She tilted her head back and held her ground as Jackson stepped into her entry way. Her grip on the doorknob tightened and she planted her other hand on the wooden trim, blocking his path. ‘You’re not coming inside.’He hesitated, backed up a step. His eyes narrowed a calculating degree. ‘Aren’t you acting a little childish?’‘About letting a virtual stranger into my home? A man who has done nothing but harass me an
Being Yours BOOK 7
‘All right, Rachel. You win,’ he said, then left through the back door, closing it behind him.Her stomach twisted, coiling into a knot. Finally she had her house to herself again. She drew several breaths before coherent thought resurfaced. She glanced at the phone and considered calling Penny, but discarded the idea. In a few minutes, maybe.She needed time to recover from the last encounter with Jackson and the vibrant, turbulent emotions still building inside her. What she felt for him, the things she wanted from him despite the fact that he threatened her safe existence, astounded her.Going to the kitchen table, she sat in a chair and cradled her head in her hands. Whenever she was with him, she didn’t simply experience a physical reaction, though heaven knew she couldn’t stop thinking about how his arms felt around her, or how his kiss sent her mind swimming with dizzying pleasure. Who would have ever thought a man could taste so rich and warm and spicy? What she wouldn’t give
Being Yours BOOK 7
She stared at the empty spot where the car had been parked as her mind absorbed the fact. Instead of welcoming the respite, she experienced an absurd form of resentment that he’d left without telling her. Back inside, she shut the door, her thoughts narrowing on the man who was quickly becoming an obsession. He’d been so adamant about following her everywhere, why would he leave without talking to her first? Was he up to something, or had he simply gone for a cup of sludge coffee and a restroom break, which he must definitely need after nearly ten hours of surveillance work?Returning to the kitchen, she switched on the gas under the kettle filled with water. She reached for a cup but hesitated when she spotted a piece of her stationery on the counter. Her heart missed a beat as she picked it up.So he had been inside. She glanced around, expecting him to appear. She remembered unlocking the front door. Then how . . . ? The back door. Had she locked it after he’d left? She couldn’t re
Being Yours BOOK 7
The telephone screeched with the ear-piercing shrill of an angry child. Rachel flinched and resisted the urge to run from the room as memories of another police station on another long-ago night assailed her. Hallways crammed with people, shouted curses, some drunken, others hateful, the sharp tang of ammonia and the underlying stench of unwashed bodies had added to the mayhem when Penny had been arrested for stealing. But ‘stealing’ was too casual a word for what her sister had been involved in. She’d been drawn into a world of organized crime, and Rachel had been too busy to notice. Once she had, it had almost been too late to save her.Today, the pale gray hallways were busy, but not overly crowded. A steady hum of conversation layered the room, adding definition to the people milling about. A musty odor coated the building, a collective residue from people who’d previously walked through the doors to report a crime or to search for lost loved ones.Was she too late now? Or was she
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel stood alone in the middle of Jackson’s immense living room, absorbing facts about him that he would never have revealed on his own. White mini-blinds on the patio door blended with the off-white walls. He hadn’t bothered with pictures or drapes to relieve the bleached color. The couch, set at a haphazard angle in the middle of the room, was a burlap, Rent-to-Own special that no one in their right mind would ever buy. Or at least, no one with any taste. A veneered walnut-brown end table supported a pastel lamp that she guessed dated from the 60s. He didn’t own a coffee table. The room seemed a contradiction to the man she thought she was coming to know.She made a slow turn, noticing the lack of personal mementos, framed photographs, anything that would allude to a hobby or special interest. No books or magazines. A pile of folders and newspapers tossed on the floor was the only evidence that the place was inhabited at all. She couldn’t imagine anyone living here. It was as if J
Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson watched the color drain from Rachel’s face. The firm set of her lips relaxed as her mouth dropped open. Her expressive gray eyes grew round and wide. A series of emotions passed through them - surprise, confusion and finally disbelief.‘You think falling in love was a mistake?’ she asked in a carefully controlled voice.‘I didn’t think so at the time, but in retrospect, yes.’She nodded, her entire body tensing. ‘And loving this woman caused you problems?’‘I won’t go into the gritty details,’ he said, not because he thought she wouldn’t want to hear about Sandra, but because admitting how big a fool he’d been still had the power to strike a raw chord in his ego. ‘She had been my business partner as well as my fiancee, and I trusted her enough to give her fifty per cent of my company. Because of my bad judgement, I lost everything. Almost had to file for bankruptcy,’ he added with a rueful laugh.‘So you decided never to trust anyone again.’ She said it as a statement of fact
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