Exposing the Heiress by Jennifer Apodaca Read Free Book Online

Anderson, who was with him when the mall shooting broke out.
    Her horrified voice after it was over rang in his head. I can’t do this. You just killed so easily. One second we were walking along laughing, then the shooting started and you shoved me into a rack of clothes. I didn’t even know you had that gun on you. Then you killed that man and didn’t even flinch. Like it was nothing.
    Rachel had looked at him like he was an unfeeling monster. When he went into sniper mode, that’s exactly what he was. It’s what he’d been trained to be and he’d been damn good at it, maybe the best.
    He hadn’t dated again after that.
    Frustration ate at him. Even sculpting hadn’t helped last night. The piece, the one that had been haunting his dreams lately, wouldn’t come together. Instead, he’d been thinking about Lyssie, the way it felt to hold her, how good she smelled.
    Face it, you got the hots for her. Lyssie was off-limits sexually. He’d brought her there to help her, not seduce her. What he needed to do was sculpt for a while. Last night had been an aberration. Once he got his hands on the cool clay, the drive, that wild thumping obsession to give face to his nightmares, bring them into three-dimensional focus and lock them away in his studio, would manifest. His hands tingled with the urge to feel and shape the clay.
    Relieved, he headed out the doors into the bright sunlight. Squinting, he scanned over the built-in barbecue with the stone bar surround and stools, the heavy, round wrought iron table, the pool and…Well hell.
    Alyssa sat on a lounger. His gaze traveled down her face and slender neck to a strappy white top that left a wedge of her belly bare. A laptop rested on her thighs, and from there her long, bare legs stretched out in sinful temptation.
    His blood thumped with a painful shot of pure want, the memory of her scent, the feel of her warm body in his arms. He jerked his attention to the rectangular pool sparkling in the sun. Get control. Lyssie’s not a hookup, and you can’t give her more than that.
    The studio. It was right there, maybe forty feet past Lyssie. He’d say a quick hi, then lock himself in the studio, but when he returned his gaze to her, he saw her chewing on a thumbnail. Against his will, his lips curved into a smile. She’d always done that when she was absorbed or concentrating. What had her so engrossed? Curiosity propelled him into striding over to her. Once there, he couldn’t help taking another eye-journey over that top with the crisscrossing straps, then down her belly where his attention caught on a small stylized heart tattoo dipping into her shorts between her belly button and right hip bone. A delicate ruby tear was inked in the center of the tat. His hands twitched with the temptation to touch it.
    “You’re staring.” She tilted her head up from the screen.
    He forced his attention to her face. “You have a tattoo.”
    “Wow, no wonder you’re a bodyguard. You don’t miss a thing.”
    He fought a grin. “Careful, smart-mouth girl. The heater’s on in the pool.” He dragged a chair close to her, dropped onto it and nodded toward her computer. “You were concentrating pretty hard. What are you doing?”
    She closed the laptop. “Nothing.”
    “Liar. You were totally absorbed. Spill it.”
    “Just playing with some pictures and video. It’s not important.”
    Given the way she had her hand resting on the laptop in a protective gesture, he thought it was very important. “Can I look?”
    “There’s nothing to see.” She tugged the laptop until the edge pressed into her stomach. “It’s just a hobby.”
    “You used to show me your pictures.”
    She glanced right toward the studio then back to him. “You used to show me your sculptures.”
    Crap, she had him there. “Stalemate.”
    She flashed him her real grin, one side of her mouth tilting up more than the other. “You can always give in and let me see what you’re working on at two