Read Online Untamed by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

of the narrow trailer and disappeared around the corner where the tiny kitchen was set.
    Slowly, Jo pulled off her dripping hat, letting her hair tumble free from where it had been piled under its confinement. With automatic movements she hung both her hat and coat on the hooks by the trailer door. It had been almost six months since she had stood in Frank’s trailer, and like a woman visiting an old friend, she searched for changes.
    The same faded lampshade adorned the maple table lamp that Frank had used for reading. The shade sat straight now, however, not at its usual slightly askew angle. The pillow that Lillie from wardrobe had sewn for him on some long-ago Christmas still sat over the small burn hole in the seat cushion of the couch. Jo doubted that Keane knew of the hole’s existence. Frank’s pipe stand sat, as always, on the counter by the side window. Unable to resist, Jo crossed over to run her finger over the worn bowl of his favorite pipe.
    â€œNever could pack it right,” she murmured to his well-loved ghost. Abruptly, her senses quivered. She twisted her head to see Keane watching her. Jo dropped her hand. A rare blush mantled her cheeks as she found herself caught unguarded.
    â€œHow do you take your coffee, Jo?”
    She swallowed. “Black,” she told him, aware that he was granting her the privacy of her thoughts. “Just black. Thank you.”
    Keane nodded, then turned to pick up two steaming mugs. “Come, sit down.” He moved toward the Formica table that sat directly across from the kitchen. “You’d better take off your shoes. They’re wet.”
    After squeaking her way down the length of the trailer, Jo sat down and pulled at the damp laces. Keane set both mugs on the table before disappearing into the back of the trailer. When he returned, Jo was already sipping at the coffee.
    â€œHere.” He offered her a pair of socks.
    Surprised, Jo shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I don’t need . . .”
    Her polite refusal trailed off as he knelt at her feet. “Your feet are like ice,” he commented after cupping them in his palms. Briskly, he rubbed them while Jo sat mute, oddly disarmed by the gesture. The warmth was spreading dangerously past her ankles. “Since I’m responsible for keeping you out in the rain,” he went on as he slipped a sock over her foot, “I’d best see to it you don’t cough and sneeze your way through tomorrow’s show. Such small feet,” he murmured, running his thumb over the curve of her ankle as she stared wordlessly at the top of his head.
    Raindrops still clung to and glistened in his hair. Jo found herself longing to brush them away and feel the texture of his hair beneath her fingers. She was sharply aware of him and wondered if it would always be this way when she was near him. Keane pulled on the second sock. His fingers lingered on her calf as he lifted his eyes. Hers were darkened with confusion as they met his. The body over which she had always held supreme control was journeying into frontiers her mind had not yet explored.
    â€œStill cold?” Keane asked softly.
    Jo moistened her lips and shook her head. “No. No, I’m fine.”
    He smiled a lazy, masculine smile that said as clearly as words that he was aware of his effect on her. His eyes told her he enjoyed it. Unsmiling, Jo watched him rise to his feet.
    â€œIt doesn’t mean you’ll win,” she said aloud in response to their silent communication.
    â€œNo, it doesn’t.” Keane’s smile remained as his gaze roamed possessively over her face. “That only makes it more interesting. Open and shut cases are invariably boring, hardly worth the trouble of going on if you’ve won before you’ve finished your opening statement.”
    Jo lifted her coffee and sipped, taking a moment to settle her nerves. “Are we here to discuss the law or