Read Online Live and Let Love by Gina Robinson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gina Robinson
Tags: Agent Ex#3
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her failure.
No, the blame for that was 190 pounds of muscle named Shane who’d spent the majority
of the evening either right at her side, eavesdropping on any conversation she had
(he thought he was being sneaky, but she knew what he was up to), or, and this may
have just been her imagination, watching her to see if she was watching Con. Yes,
that was crazy. She really couldn’t figure it out. Shane had only left her for a few
minutes all evening. Once to go to the bathroom. And just now to get a cup of cider.
Of course, she was watching Con. With a very appreciative eye. But if she’d learned anything from living
with Jack, it was how to conduct a covert operation. She’d been careful to be clandestine.
She didn’t think she’d given Shane any reason to be jealous. But she was probably
about to blow all that when she spent her tickets on Con.
Shane’s reactions and behavior around her puzzled Willow. He persisted in pursuing
her, and yet there wasn’t any sexual chemistry between them. None on her part and
only halfhearted, feigned attraction on his. As odd as it sounded, it was almost as
if he was acting a part.
Maybe Shane was trying to force himself to move on from Crystal’s death by latching
onto Willow. Maybe he thought their similar backgrounds of loss made them compatible.
But it was a lost cause.
Willow was highly intuitive. And she knew chemistry when she saw it and, more important,
when she felt it. There was no reason for Shane to be jealous and care whether she
spoke with Con or not. And yet something about the way Shane acted, almost as if he
was looking for her to make a move of some kind on Aldo’s cousin, made her back off
and go underground.
During her, she hoped, clandestine surveillance of Con she’d noticed a couple of interesting
things. One, she’d seen him by one of Aldo’s metal roosters pocketing a rock. For
luck? Con didn’t seem like the rock-hound type. And two, no matter how much the ladies
wanted to watch him strut his stuff, he didn’t want to dance. He kept trying to buy
his way out of it. So, of course, she was going to make certain he danced until he
dropped. And it wasn’t the ladies’ need for eye candy that motivated her.
You could tell a lot about a person by how good- or bad-naturedly they reacted under
pressure or to a situation they found embarrassing. And how they took being ribbed.
She’d know by how Con handled himself in the competition whether he was a man worth
getting to know better. Or whether he’d never measure up to Jack.
Shane stood next to her, rocking on the balls of his feet nervously.
“You’re right. Lettie’s going to make you dance,” she said to him, teasing. “I don’t
think she dreamed up this competition just to get back at Bob for last year. I think
she just wants to see you shake your booty.”
He shook his head, looking decidedly unappreciative of Lettie’s desires. He pointed
to Willow’s tickets. “And you’re planning to buy me out of this?”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Do you really think I can outspend Lettie? She’s the wealthiest
person here.” Willow grinned. “Sorry, but I think you’re in.”
Con came into the building with Aldo. As they walked past her, an old, familiar feeling
washed over her—the prickly glow and sense of danger that used to surround Jack. The
hairs on her arms stood up, fueled by her earlier sense of foreboding. If she’d had
a pinch of salt, she would have thrown it over her shoulder just then.
Instead, she studied Con. He was everything Willow liked in a man—broad shoulders,
wavy dark hair, and a confident stance. She could see why he was Shiloh’s old-man
crush, though he was anything but old. Probably not a day over thirty-five. Jack’s
age, if he’d lived.
Dressed in a soft black V-neck sweater that practically screamed to be stroked as
it strained across his shoulders, cashmere probably, casual
No, the blame for that was 190 pounds of muscle named Shane who’d spent the majority
of the evening either right at her side, eavesdropping on any conversation she had
(he thought he was being sneaky, but she knew what he was up to), or, and this may
have just been her imagination, watching her to see if she was watching Con. Yes,
that was crazy. She really couldn’t figure it out. Shane had only left her for a few
minutes all evening. Once to go to the bathroom. And just now to get a cup of cider.
Of course, she was watching Con. With a very appreciative eye. But if she’d learned anything from living
with Jack, it was how to conduct a covert operation. She’d been careful to be clandestine.
She didn’t think she’d given Shane any reason to be jealous. But she was probably
about to blow all that when she spent her tickets on Con.
Shane’s reactions and behavior around her puzzled Willow. He persisted in pursuing
her, and yet there wasn’t any sexual chemistry between them. None on her part and
only halfhearted, feigned attraction on his. As odd as it sounded, it was almost as
if he was acting a part.
Maybe Shane was trying to force himself to move on from Crystal’s death by latching
onto Willow. Maybe he thought their similar backgrounds of loss made them compatible.
But it was a lost cause.
Willow was highly intuitive. And she knew chemistry when she saw it and, more important,
when she felt it. There was no reason for Shane to be jealous and care whether she
spoke with Con or not. And yet something about the way Shane acted, almost as if he
was looking for her to make a move of some kind on Aldo’s cousin, made her back off
and go underground.
During her, she hoped, clandestine surveillance of Con she’d noticed a couple of interesting
things. One, she’d seen him by one of Aldo’s metal roosters pocketing a rock. For
luck? Con didn’t seem like the rock-hound type. And two, no matter how much the ladies
wanted to watch him strut his stuff, he didn’t want to dance. He kept trying to buy
his way out of it. So, of course, she was going to make certain he danced until he
dropped. And it wasn’t the ladies’ need for eye candy that motivated her.
You could tell a lot about a person by how good- or bad-naturedly they reacted under
pressure or to a situation they found embarrassing. And how they took being ribbed.
She’d know by how Con handled himself in the competition whether he was a man worth
getting to know better. Or whether he’d never measure up to Jack.
Shane stood next to her, rocking on the balls of his feet nervously.
“You’re right. Lettie’s going to make you dance,” she said to him, teasing. “I don’t
think she dreamed up this competition just to get back at Bob for last year. I think
she just wants to see you shake your booty.”
He shook his head, looking decidedly unappreciative of Lettie’s desires. He pointed
to Willow’s tickets. “And you’re planning to buy me out of this?”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Do you really think I can outspend Lettie? She’s the wealthiest
person here.” Willow grinned. “Sorry, but I think you’re in.”
Con came into the building with Aldo. As they walked past her, an old, familiar feeling
washed over her—the prickly glow and sense of danger that used to surround Jack. The
hairs on her arms stood up, fueled by her earlier sense of foreboding. If she’d had
a pinch of salt, she would have thrown it over her shoulder just then.
Instead, she studied Con. He was everything Willow liked in a man—broad shoulders,
wavy dark hair, and a confident stance. She could see why he was Shiloh’s old-man
crush, though he was anything but old. Probably not a day over thirty-five. Jack’s
age, if he’d lived.
Dressed in a soft black V-neck sweater that practically screamed to be stroked as
it strained across his shoulders, cashmere probably, casual
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