What Belongs to Her. Rachel Brimble

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СКАЧАТЬ broad chest rose and fell beneath the tight stretch of his shirt as his gaze left hers and wandered over her face, coming to a stop at her mouth. “We’ll never have enough time together for me to tell you what happened between Kyle and me so let’s just concentrate on why we’ve been thrown together like this. Business, Sasha. We talk business only from now on.”

      She pursed her lips and turned away from his mesmerizing blue eyes, her body rigid with a nervousness she’d never experienced around his father. The anger emanating from John was in no way normal, yet she didn’t sense any violence in him like she had in Kyle. In John, there was only sadness—and a whole dollop of a man recovering from huge betrayal.

      The question was, what the hell did he intend to do about it? And would she get caught in the guaranteed and dangerous cross fire?

      * * *

      JOHN TRIED AND failed to level his breathing as he pressed hard on the gas and screeched away from the light. Damn Sasha and her incessant questions. Her intelligent, far-too-aware gaze didn’t help, either. Did she ever quit interfering? Or flirting? John inwardly cursed. Flirting? She wasn’t flirting—he damn well wanted her to flirt. That was the crux of his frustration and he was more angry about that than anything Kyle had exposed him to so far.

      He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

      God, he didn’t want to shout at Sasha and he certainly didn’t want to frighten her. He loved women. Loved the kids he worked with even more. His father had already seeped into his blood, turning him into someone he’d constantly fought so hard not to be. An angry, bitter man like Kyle.

      The busy road caused him to stop and start in a long queue of traffic, bringing his nerves to the point of breaking. A tense silence hung heavy in the air, pressing on his chest and making him want to apologize as they slowed to a stop at a junction. He couldn’t show her a single facet of the personality he left in Oxford. The funny, kind history teacher whom the staff held in high regard because “he has a way with the kids,” or the guy who scribbled away at a Tudor mystery novel in his spare time. John smiled wryly.

      God, he’d love to know what she thought of that John Jordon.

      He sensed her study of him and turned. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes almost black as she stared with open curiosity. He snapped his eyes to the windshield and his armor slid into place with a resounding clunk inside his head. He’d been a good man, a good teacher and mentor for a long time. He liked that person and intended keeping him under wraps for the entirety of his time in the Cove. More and more people would soon know he was here and wonder why. He would find a way to leave Kyle without a penny of his immoral earnings and then leave.

      Forging friendships—he glanced at Sasha—and starting to like people was out of the question. If he kept up the mystery surrounding himself, no one need know how he was venting an anger so deep it was shameful. The less Sasha got to know him, the easier he could leave town guilt-free because she had no idea who he really was and how much John actually cared about Kyle and the life he’d led without his only son.

      Exhaling through gritted teeth, John swallowed his pride. One of them had to take the high road in the face-off growing at high velocity between them. “You’re going to have to give me directions to wherever it is you think we should head first.”

      “What were you just thinking?”

      God damn it. Can’t she keep any thoughts to herself? Lord knows it isn’t that difficult. “Nothing. Where are we going?”

      “Fine.”

      He stole another look at her as she hitched her elbow on the door and stared toward the amusement arcades lit up like a mini-Vegas beside them.

      She sighed theatrically, waved her hand nonchalantly. “You want to play it cool and not afford me the luxury of getting to know you better, we’ll go to Marian’s. Maybe she’ll break you.” She laughed. “Scrap that. I know she’ll break you.”

      “First of all, no one is breaking anyone. Second of all, who’s Marian? The idea isn’t morning coffee at someone’s house. I want to discover the hubbub of this supposedly quaint seaside town.”

      “Supposedly quaint?”

      He edged the car forward in the slow-moving traffic. “I’ll admit, on the surface Templeton Cove looks nice, picturesque, interesting even, but anywhere my father decided to live and work can’t be any of those things once a person scratches the surface.”

      She scowled. “Templeton Cove isn’t Kyle’s creation, you know. The people who live here built this place. The decent people. The people who do their utmost to keep it clean, friendly and welcoming for the thousands of visitors who come every year. Not to mention the hundreds of people who live good, honest lives here. Your father was nothing more than a damn blemish on its crystal-blue horizon. And I for one say good bloody riddance to him.”

      John smiled. “Bingo. Something we agree on.”

      She glared. “We’re not agreed on anything until I know for sure what you want. How can you expect me to believe you’re not just going to pick up the illegal reins now Kyle’s gone? Why else would he pass over Freddy unless he knew you were much more of a suitable candidate for what he had in mind?”

      John’s smile slipped. “I’m not here to pick up Kyle’s reins.”

      “Then why?” Her eyes were hard, determined.

      A horn sounded behind him, and she jumped. John snapped his gaze to the front. An empty gap of at least two car lengths stretched from the hood of his car to the junction. Cursing, he accelerated forward. “Which way?”

      “Left.”

      He joined the main road leading into town. “So, who’s Marian?”

      “I assume the change of subject is your way of telling me to mind my own business?”

      “I’m not answering any questions as far as Kyle’s concerned.”

      She sniffed. “Fine.”

      The next few seconds passed in strained silence before John released a heavy breath. “Is Marian a friend of yours?”

      She sighed. “She owns a bakery by the beachfront. We’ll grab a coffee and I’ll introduce you. If you’ve got any strength left in that muscled body of yours once Marian’s finished with you, it’ll be a miracle.”

      Muscled body? John savored the thought she’d noticed his body. At least it wasn’t just him imagining the heat between them. He shook his head and smiled. “If you haven’t managed to upset me, I don’t believe for one minute this Marian can be any more of a pain in the butt. I’ll be fine.”

      John glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She shot him a glare before turning to look out the side of the car. Score to him. He’d only driven a few hundred yards when brown-and-white signs along the side of the road indicated the beach, thus leading him in the general direction without the need for further conversation. Pressing on the gas, he concentrated on looking for the bakery, rather than the continual distraction of Sasha’s shapely legs showing beneath the hem of her white shorts.

      He didn’t have to look far. A long queue of patrons waited to get inside Marian’s Bonniest Bakery. The shiny blue-and-white awning over the window boasted СКАЧАТЬ