Read Online Really Something by Shirley Jump - Free Book Online

back, waiting for him to speak, to say something—anything—that would push past all the reasons she had against getting involved with him.
    Because that’s all she needed, a whisper of a reason to stay.
    â€œYou’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Incredible.” The words sliced through the silence of the house, punctuated by the rain’s continual tap-tap against the glass.
    She averted her gaze, oddly uncomfortable with his perusal, which surprised her. This was Duncan. She should have been elated that the man who had seen her at her worst finally saw her as the beauty queen.
    And yet, for some weird reason, she wanted him to see past Allie Dean, to know Allison Gray stood before him. To see past the very façade she was protecting.
    And for him to still feel the same way about her. To still want her, no matter what.
    He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “And smart. And bold. You’re not like anyone else I’ve met in a long, long time.”
    â€œBecause I go after what I want?”
    â€œExactly. And I hope that one of those things you want right now is me.”
    Did she want him? When had there ever been a day when she hadn’t?
    â€œI want your house,” she said, and his face fell, “but I want you more. Much more.”
    The grin curved across his lips again and the tension between them rose and twisted into a thick chain. “Then follow me.” Duncan took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and up the creaky staircase.
    He opened the door at the end of the hall and flicked on the light, illuminating a large bedroom. A chandelier hung over an ornate cherry queen-size bed covered with a white comforter that had yellowed with age. In one corner stood a matching cherry wardrobe, framed by a full-length mirror. The bright blue area rug had faded beneath the window, the frilly lace curtains hung limp and trimmed with cobwebs, but all in all, this room looked like it had been lived in more recently than the rest of the house.
    Why this space? And only this space? And by whom? Allie looked at Duncan, but he didn’t explain.
    Instead, he crossed the room, opened the wardrobe, then stepped back. “Help yourself.”
    A few outfits hung in the closet. Immediately, Allie’s shopper’s eye cataloged them. Size six, maybe size eight. Two pairs of jeans, a few Ts, a dark blue sweater and an IU sweatshirt with a frayed hem. A mismatched pair of flannel PJs, the red-and-white checked pants also sporting the college logo, a black shirt with some kind of concert memorabilia. And then, on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe, a pair of Elmo slippers, adult size. A dark green backpack with a flip-flop key chain hanging off the zipper, a key dangling off the ring. The top of a bikini and a pair of sunglasses, tilted at an angle, as if they were staring back at Allie.
    Watching her.
    Female clothes. Who did they belong to? The clothes—only enough for a weekend, not a lifetime of living here—were too young, too hip, to be Duncan’s aunt’s. Were they a girlfriend’s?
    A wife’s?
    A weekend lover’s?
    Allie looked again to Duncan, but he had drifted to the window. “Won’t whoever owns these clothes need them?”
    He leaned one hand on the jamb, the other flat against a pane. His gaze ranged over the fields beyond them, fields which eventually led to Tempest. “She’ll never miss them. Trust me.”
    Allie’s resolve fumbled in the vulnerability in his voice. The hunch in his shoulders. This wasn’t the Duncan Henry she remembered from high school. This man had experienced deep pain.
    Could the clothes be his sister Katie’s? Or some other woman who had meant a great deal to Duncan? Someone he had loved—and lost?
    Before she could discern anything else, he pivoted and moved to her, the familiar grin on his face again. “I promised you tea, didn’t I? I need to find some matches.