Most Wanted by Jean Brashear

Author:Jean Brashear
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

SHE LOCATED THE HOUSE without any trouble, but sat outside for a minute, absorbing the shock. This was her dream house, the neat little cottage with pretty shutters and lots of windows, a tree-shaded lawn and—oh, man—a picket fence.

And her nemesis lived here.

Her opinion of him took a hit then, but she refused to feel it. Where he lived didn’t matter.

What he intended to do to her dreams did.

She thought she would have knocked, anyway, even if the whole house had been dark, but fortunately, she could see lights on in the back. She grasped the shiny brass knocker on the gleaming red door and rapped it hard, twice.

When there was no answer, she winced, conscious of the neighboring houses all closed down for the night, and rapped again but not quite so vigorously.

In the middle of the third effort, the door swung open.

Revealing a man she’d never met. Bare-chested, bare feet, hair tumbling over his brow, he had the same features as the one she knew, but the near-violent emotions crowding this man’s face—

It was Jesse, but it wasn’t.

And in his hand, he held a paintbrush. Not one for covering walls but one for creating art.

He still hadn’t said a word to her, though the air around them tumbled with a nasty mess of emotions that weren’t all hers.

“Here—” She shoved the shirt at him, at a loss to recall what she’d thought to accomplish by coming.

His eyes, now dark as the shadowy floor of a forest, met hers. He made no move to take the garment.

She’d come here to fight, but now she didn’t know how to proceed. What to think. How to deal with the man who loomed larger than ever before in a manner she didn’t understand.

Finally, he raked his empty hand through his hair, then extended it to clasp the fabric in her fingers. With his elbow, he started closing the door.

“Wait—” She jammed her shoulder against the wood. “We need to talk.”

“No.” His head rose sharply. “No, we definitely do not need to talk. Not tonight.”

He was probably right. Tempers were too frayed, bodies stretched on the fine edge of exhaustion. They had another hard day ahead, maybe many more.

But in his eyes she saw something she couldn’t ignore, something that astonished her.

Loneliness as deep as her own.

So she merely feinted to the opposite side of the opening instead of pitting her strength against his, and slipped inside the door before he could stop her.

He hung his head and sighed. “Delilah, it’s been a long day.”

She saw then the cost to him. He always appeared on top of things, so perfectly in control, calculating and unfeeling. Only when he’d spoken of his family had she glimpsed beneath that icy mask, at least until tonight, when his eyes had gone wild and savage. Even then, he’d clamped a lid on his emotions with inhuman quickness.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out.

She heard what might have been a snort. He shook his head and faced her. There was a knife scar on his left side just above the waist of his jeans.

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