Read Online Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 04] by Deadly Desire - Free Book Online

was also as if, in a very tender way, he found her amusing.
    His smile faded. He moved past her and closed the door.
    “Bragg?” She wondered if somehow she had said or done something wrong. He seemed so serious, so intent, now.
    “They like you,” he said flatly.
    “They do? They said so?”
    “No one had to say anything,” he said. “I could tell.”
    “I’m not sure Grace likes me,” she began.
    He silenced her by pulling her close. “Why are you up and about town again? Why aren’t you resting? What if your burn becomes infected? I am worried, Francesca.”
    She stared into his eyes and recalled Connie’s last words: You are his Achilles’ heel, Francesca. If you love him, you must let him go!
    “Tell me you are not here on police business, as Farr suggested,” Bragg whispered.
    It was hard to shove Connie’s words far away, to a place where she would not hear them, echoing with a horrible and fatal insistence. Francesca laid her hands on his hard chest. His suit jacket was open, and through his cotton shirt she felt muscle and bone and the pounding of his heart.
    “I am guilty as charged,” she whispered. And she felt his heart beat faster, harder.
    “Why am I not surprised?” he asked in a husky tone. He cupped her face with one large palm. Their gazes locked.
    And a little voice inside her head said, You had better tell him about the note or there will be hell to pay.
    Of course, it was hard to listen to that inner voice, when he held her face and she felt his heart beating beneath her palm. She knew what its acceleration meant.
    “What is it? You look so unhappy,” he murmured.

    She inhaled. This was her chance to tell him that Leigh Anne knew about their feelings and that she was on her way to New York. Francesca opened her mouth to begin but somehow could not get a word out.
    For she had the most awful sense that when she did, it would change everything. That the entire world as she had known it since he had stepped into her house on January 18 would crumble and vanish forever. Suddenly she was gripping his shirt. “It’s nothing,” she began.
    His eyes told her that he did not believe her, but before she could reaffirm what she had said his arm slid behind her and before she could take a breath she was in his arms, against his chest, and his mouth was on hers.
    They hadn’t kissed since the Channing ball. Francesca had forgotten how much she wanted to be with this man. But not this way, oh no. She wanted to be in his bed; she wanted to be unclothed; she wanted to consummate their relationship. She wanted to be his lover, desperately so.
    You are his Achilles’ heel … You are the one who can destroy him.
    Their hearts thundered as one. His entire hard body fused with hers; his hands moved up and down her back, her bottom; her hands slid over his chest, his abdomen. His arousal ground against her hip. Somehow she was turned so her back was against the wall. He leaned all of his weight against her and she strained back against him. She almost hated her sister in that moment. Connie was wrong .
    He suddenly ended the kiss, briefly hugging her, hard. In his arms she felt small, safe, and secure, in spite of the blood that continued to run like hot, bubbling lava in her veins. His face was buried against hers. His beard was merely a few hours old, but it was scratchy and delicious.
    “I like your beard,” she whispered.
    “I love you,” he returned.
    And the echo began. You are his Achilles’ heel …
    “What is it?” he asked sharply.
    Francesca had stiffened; now she pulled away. “Nothing.”
    He stared intently. “Something is bothering you.”

    She had never lied to him. She never would. “Sarah Channing is in trouble, Bragg.” That was the truth. Still, there was nagging guilt.
    For one moment he was surprised, and then, all business, he said, “What happened?”
    Francesca felt a surge of relief. “Someone broke into her studio and went on a rampage. Her work has been