The Virgin and the Vengeful Groom by Dixie Browning Read Free Book Online Page B

both playing their cards close to their respective chests. He glanced at her chest, then quickly looked away. No point in muddying the waters any more than they already were. The truth was, they both had a right to whatever was in those boxes, and while he figured his was the stronger claim, he couldn’t deny she might have the law on her side.
    The law. “And the cops can’t do anything, right? Because there was no evidence of a break-in?”
    â€œI told you that,” she snapped.
    â€œDid you consider taking their advice and leaving town until things cool off? Obviously, you’re what the creep’s after. If you’re not here…”
    â€œFine. I get out of town, and then you come in and take what you want, is that how it goes?”
    â€œWell, sure,” he said, hurting, feeling mean, wondering how he’d gotten himself mired in the mess in the first place over a bunch of papers he really wasn’t all that interested in. He flexed his fingers. “When I pick a lock, I don’t leave any evidence. So go ahead—report what’s missing, and then we’ll see who has the best claim.”
    She’d started to pace, her shoulders all hunched, arms wrapped around her body as if she were freezing. In August, no less. “I wouldn’t know where to go. And anyway, what about my work?”
    â€œTake a paper and pencil.”
    â€œOh, that’s great advice. Thank you very much.”
    â€œGlad to be of service. So now, how about you show me where you’ve stashed the boxes, and I’ll get ’em out of your way.” He glanced around at the comfortable, but definitely cluttered room.
    â€œThe boxes don’t take up all that much room, they’re not in the way.”
    They were dancing around, each one trying to gain the high ground. “Oh, and don’t forget to include that book over there on the chair. Looks like one of dear old Aunt Bessie’s diaries.”
    She closed her eyes, looking as if she were praying…or trying to figure out where to kick him to do the most damage. Strong, fragile, gutsy and vulnerable. Hell of a combination. He’d been trained to come in hard, fast, and silent—to get the job done and get out. He hadn’t been trained to offer comfort and protection—at least, not the kind he wanted to offer this woman.
    â€œGive it up, O’Malley, you know you’re outmatched,” he said softly.
    For a long time she didn’t speak. Didn’t look at him,but stared at the musty old book on the seat of the upholstered rocking chair. If she was deliberately trying to throw him off the scent, she’d find out that he was an old hand at creating a feint as a diversion while the real action was taking place somewhere else.
    Turns out, she was even better at it than he was. “We could compromise.”
    â€œCompromise? Now, look—”
    â€œJust hear me out. I’m willing to do this only because I’m under a certain amount of pressure. I’ve got a contract in the works, which means I’ll have to be here to—”
    â€œWhat compromise?”
    â€œI’ll share. You can come here for, say, two hours every morning and we’ll sort through everything, and then you can take what I don’t need and—”
    â€œNeed? What the devil is this garbage about need? ”
    She looked ready to take a swing at him. Instead, she said patiently, “I’m really into Bess’s story. It’s…it’s sort of like we’re bonded. I mean, think of it this way—she was a writer, I’m a writer. She was an independent woman, I’m an independent woman. I think she needs her story told, and I’m the logical one to tell it, only I need all those papers until I can decide which ones are about Bess and which aren’t. Technically, they’re all mine, but you can have those that aren’t directly related to