Read Online Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) by Linda Style - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Style
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the middle of a setup, Rhys, dressed in bleached jeans, a black T-shirt and boots, stepped out and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb.
Perfect.
Her senses spun, her awareness of shape and form, light and shadow acute. Honing in on the elements, she moved from side to side, shooting several frames in rapid succession, anxious to capture as much as possible before the light, or Rhys, disappeared.
Without acknowledging her, Rhys drew a cigarillo from his shirt pocket and, lighting it, turned in her direction. Oh, yes. Perfect again. Head tipped down, a lock of ebony hair carelessly looped over his forehead, eyes dark and brooding, strong chin. A thin curl of smoke rising from the slender cigarillo.
Absorbed by the image in her viewfinder, she jerked back, startled, when he looked up at her and nodded.
Lowering the camera, she strolled toward him. “Hi.”
He studied her, then took another drag.
“The light was so perfect just then,” she said, feeling compelled to explain. She walked closer and climbed the stairs. He hadn’t moved an inch, just kept staring at her, making her squirm under his scrutiny.
“You always carry that thing?” he asked when she reached his side. His voice was deeper, huskier than she remembered.
“Pretty much. A good photographer is always prepared.” She smiled and waved a hand toward the setting sun. “It’s beautiful.” Then staring at the cigarillo, she added, “That’s not good for you, you know.”
He pulled another long drag and, exhaling, stared briefly at the length of burning ash before snuffing it out in the container next to the door.
“I know.” He motioned with a wide sweep of his arm while he held the door open.
Almost before she stepped in, the scent of new leather captured her senses. She felt a flurry of anticipation at the prospect of actually learning about the business of motorcycles—and, she hoped, about SaraJane.
How close would she need to get to Gannon so he’d trust her enough to talk about the child? A jolt of anxiety diminished her anticipation. Getting close to Gannon made her palms sweat and her pulse race. He followed her in, quickly walking past her to lead the way. “Come on back and we’ll talk,” he said.
Trailing him into the office, she sensed a distance in his manner. She’d thought they’d developed good rapport the last time they’d talked. But now… Fresh panic bubbled up. Had he changed his mind? Had he realized she might pose a threat?
She grabbed one of the paper cups next to the bottled water and, after filling it, sat in the chair facing his desk. Rhys sank into the chair behind it, his eyes shuttered. Leaning back, he fixed his gaze on the desktop.
“I know we talked about the possibility of you working here,” he said, then paused. Brows bunched. Thinking.
Damn. She shouldn’t have stayed away so long, but she’d had other responsibilities to tie up. But it had given him too much time to think, and now it sounded like he was going to renege on their agreement.
“Research,” she said. “Work in exchange for the opportunity to gather information.” She spoke earnestly, hoping to redirect a conversation that might destroy her plan before it ever got off the ground. “And the opportunity to learn from an expert.”
His expression didn’t change, but the look in his eyes did…a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Caution? Desire? Whatever it was, wasn’t good. He kept her continually second-guessing everything. Did he know who she was? Suspect her motives? Was he playing her?
But damn. Whatever she was feeling didn’t matter. She had to be nice, agreeable, maybe even willing to do things that went against everything she stood for. If that’s what it took, so be it.
“I cleared my schedule. Totally. So I’m free to help out.” Maybe a little guilt would work. “And I did some research while I was in California,” she continued. “I gathered a bunch of information from the Internet and actually
Perfect.
Her senses spun, her awareness of shape and form, light and shadow acute. Honing in on the elements, she moved from side to side, shooting several frames in rapid succession, anxious to capture as much as possible before the light, or Rhys, disappeared.
Without acknowledging her, Rhys drew a cigarillo from his shirt pocket and, lighting it, turned in her direction. Oh, yes. Perfect again. Head tipped down, a lock of ebony hair carelessly looped over his forehead, eyes dark and brooding, strong chin. A thin curl of smoke rising from the slender cigarillo.
Absorbed by the image in her viewfinder, she jerked back, startled, when he looked up at her and nodded.
Lowering the camera, she strolled toward him. “Hi.”
He studied her, then took another drag.
“The light was so perfect just then,” she said, feeling compelled to explain. She walked closer and climbed the stairs. He hadn’t moved an inch, just kept staring at her, making her squirm under his scrutiny.
“You always carry that thing?” he asked when she reached his side. His voice was deeper, huskier than she remembered.
“Pretty much. A good photographer is always prepared.” She smiled and waved a hand toward the setting sun. “It’s beautiful.” Then staring at the cigarillo, she added, “That’s not good for you, you know.”
He pulled another long drag and, exhaling, stared briefly at the length of burning ash before snuffing it out in the container next to the door.
“I know.” He motioned with a wide sweep of his arm while he held the door open.
Almost before she stepped in, the scent of new leather captured her senses. She felt a flurry of anticipation at the prospect of actually learning about the business of motorcycles—and, she hoped, about SaraJane.
How close would she need to get to Gannon so he’d trust her enough to talk about the child? A jolt of anxiety diminished her anticipation. Getting close to Gannon made her palms sweat and her pulse race. He followed her in, quickly walking past her to lead the way. “Come on back and we’ll talk,” he said.
Trailing him into the office, she sensed a distance in his manner. She’d thought they’d developed good rapport the last time they’d talked. But now… Fresh panic bubbled up. Had he changed his mind? Had he realized she might pose a threat?
She grabbed one of the paper cups next to the bottled water and, after filling it, sat in the chair facing his desk. Rhys sank into the chair behind it, his eyes shuttered. Leaning back, he fixed his gaze on the desktop.
“I know we talked about the possibility of you working here,” he said, then paused. Brows bunched. Thinking.
Damn. She shouldn’t have stayed away so long, but she’d had other responsibilities to tie up. But it had given him too much time to think, and now it sounded like he was going to renege on their agreement.
“Research,” she said. “Work in exchange for the opportunity to gather information.” She spoke earnestly, hoping to redirect a conversation that might destroy her plan before it ever got off the ground. “And the opportunity to learn from an expert.”
His expression didn’t change, but the look in his eyes did…a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Caution? Desire? Whatever it was, wasn’t good. He kept her continually second-guessing everything. Did he know who she was? Suspect her motives? Was he playing her?
But damn. Whatever she was feeling didn’t matter. She had to be nice, agreeable, maybe even willing to do things that went against everything she stood for. If that’s what it took, so be it.
“I cleared my schedule. Totally. So I’m free to help out.” Maybe a little guilt would work. “And I did some research while I was in California,” she continued. “I gathered a bunch of information from the Internet and actually
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