Read Online Every Move She Makes by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online Page A

only toying with her?
    Enough of this! she told herself. You didn’t come here to fall victim to Reed’s obvious charms. Nor did you come here to have him ogle you . Marching across the space that separated them, Ella kept reminding herself of who she was and why she was here. Show him the letter and tell him you’re giving him fair warning that sending another letter would be useless, that you’re not going to show the damn thing to your father .
     
    Reed watched the woman as she approached him. Classy. Well-dressed in a simple gray pinstriped suit and pale gray blouse. Even her gray leather shoes and shoulder bag matched. And she was driving a Jag. A rich, classy broad. That’s what Briley Joe would call her. Shiny black hair, secured in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Pale olive skin. Smooth and creamy. Even on a hot day like today, she looked cool. What was someone like her doing here? He glanced past her and eyed her car. He’d thought she might have a flat tire, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Maybe a little car trouble?
    When she stopped directly in front of him, he flashed her his I’d-like-to-strip-you-naked-and-screw-you-right-here-and-now smile.
    She didn’t return the smile. Okay, so she wasn’t interested. No big deal.
    “What can I do for you?” he asked.
    “You’re Reed Conway, aren’t you?”
    She knew him? Was she someone from his past? An old girlfriend? He’d managed to lay several Spring Creek debutantes when he was in high school. But not this one. If he’d ever gotten in her pants, he’d remember her.
    “Who wants to know?” He gave her a once-over, concentrating on the area from breasts to knees. Giving a lady that kind of sexual appraisal had a way of separating the women from the girls, as well as the available from the unavailable. Besides, he enjoyed looking. She had nice tits—big, but not too big. A small waist. And wide hips. Not today’s fashionable figure, but still the kind that gave a guy a woody.
    She removed her sunglasses and held them tightly in her left hand. A hand without rings. Short, neatly manicured nails with clear polish. Not flashy. Not married. Not engaged.
    He took a good look at her face, but didn’t instantly recognize her. Had he known her? She was pretty. Not beautiful the way his mother and sister were, but alluring in an almost exotic way. Full lips, glazed with a colorless sheen. A square face, a well-defined nose, and a pair of large, striking, dark eyes—eyes so brown they appeared almost black.
    She stared at him, her gaze boring into him and her lips slightly parted. Suddenly he remembered those eyes. Other things about her had changed. She’d lost weight, grown an inch or two taller, and now possessed an air of confidence that had been lacking in the young girl who’d watched him with those remarkable black eyes.
    “Ella Porter, my, how you’ve changed.” He grinned when a look of shock drained the color from her face.
    “So have you, Mr. Conway.”
    “Why so formal, Ella? Call me Reed.”
    “Mr. Conway, I have a reason for coming here, and it isn’t so that we can get to know each other on a first-name basis.”
    “Then I take it you didn’t stop by to welcome me home on behalf of the Porter family.” He sensed the tension in her tighten, and he couldn’t help enjoying being able to irritate her so easily.
    “I received a rather disturbing letter today.”
    She snapped open her small gray shoulder bag. That was when he noticed her hands were trembling. She was scared. Scared of him. Son of a bitch! She jerked a white envelope from her purse and held it between them as if it were a weapon that would hold him at bay.
    “Bad news?” he asked flippantly.
    “Bad news for you,” she replied, shaking the envelope in his face. “I’m not going to run to my father with this. Do you hear me, Mr. Conway? Writing me vulgar, harassing letters isn’t going to upset my father, because he won’t see this letter or any future