Banish Misfortune by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

pretending, which suited him just fine. It might provide an entertaining diversion to see just how uptight Miss Jessica Hansen who didn't like nicknames was. Could he get beneath the frosty exterior, make her chilly eyes warm with wanting? Could he have her, writhing and twisting beneath him, above him, warm and pliant and loving? Somehow he doubted even Peter Kinsey saw her that way. He never could resist a challenge, and she definitely was one, with her icy demeanor and long, lean limbs. He did like a tall woman.
    "Funny?" he echoed finally, contemplating what would get the fastest reaction from her. "I was just wondering how long it was going to take me to get you in bed." He waited for her reaction to his opening salvo.
    It took him completely by surprise. Her eyes widened in momentary shock, then drooped seductively. She put one slender hand on his forearm, the manicured fingertips lightly kneading the skin with just the right amount of pressure. Not too light, not too hard— it was completely sensual and made him think suddenly of how that expert touch would feel on other, more sensitive parts of his body. He'd obviously underestimated her sexual capabilities. She leaned forward, her face very close to his, and he could smell the coffee on her breath, warm and sweet and almost unbearably enticing. Her lips were close to his, so that they almost grazed him, and her voice was soft, breathless and low. "It'll be a cold day in hell," she murmured.
    Jessica pulled back into her seat, a satisfied smirk adorning her pale face. Obviously she thought she had put him in his place. He quickly disabused her of the notion. "That's quite good, you know," he remarked in a conversational tone. "Just the right amount of come-hither. Is that how you made it to vice-president in such a short time? By being the ultimate tease?"
    If he didn't know better he would have thought that was an unbidden pain that clouded her clear blue eyes. "Of course," she said in a brittle voice. "Except that I usually deliver."
    For some reason he didn't believe her. And then he cursed himself for being a romantic fool. Jessica Hansen fascinated him, as she doubtless meant to. It had to be part of her power, like a black widow spider's. She'd probably slept with everyone from the stockboy on up, and he had lost his taste for shopworn relationships, hadn't he? Casting a furutive glance at her self-contained profile, he was no longer so sure.
    "Do you want to stop for something to eat?" he said suddenly, wanting to get away from the car, wanting to sit across from her at a table and talk like rational human beings, not unexpected enemies. He could see her hesitate for a moment, then shake her head resolutely. "Anorexia isn't in anymore," he added as a little jab.
    It bounced off. "It was your decision to forgo breakfast," she said serenely. "You'll just have to wait till we get to the Kinseys. I'm sure there'll be mountains of food to keep you occupied."
    "I can think of better ways to keep occupied," he drawled. "Do you think there'll be any unattached women around, or will I have to share you with Peter?"
    Strangely enough, she took his question seriously. "There'll be other women. You'll be able to take your pick."
    Springer couldn't help himself, and afterward he wondered why he said it. And meant it. "I pick you, then."
    She shut her eyes in sudden pain. "Stop it, Springer," she said wearily, and he liked the sound of his name on her pale mouth. "Stop playing with me and stop watching me."
    His eyes moved from her set face, dropping to the hands curved palm upward—loose, for a change—in her lap. And he saw the scars across her wrists, old and faded, but inexorably there. They must have been deep once, long ago. And then he raised his eyes to meet her stricken ones, and she slowly turned her hands palm downward on her lap.
    He didn't even hesitate. All teasing had vanished, and he moved his hand from the steering wheel and placed it over one of her still