Love In Plain Sight. Jeanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ finely textured walls, at the planked floor with the rich pine finish beneath the gleam of polyurethane. Both jobs done with care and attention to detail.

      If anyone had deserved a home, that anyone had been Harley. She had grown up on the wrong side of Courtney’s business—foster care. But if Harley had owned this place, then Marc knew Courtney must have purchased her portion of the property from her brother after Harley had married him.

      He supposed that shouldn’t surprise him, either.

      “Oh, I forgot,” Courtney said. “Let me run up to my house. Be right back.”

      She didn’t give him a chance to reply, just spun around and took off again, leaving the door open behind her. The sound of her footsteps on the flagstones faded, and Marc took the opportunity to scope out the rest of the place.

      The kitchen chewed up a lot of square footage, but as he ran a hand long the smooth finish of the wooden cabinets with their scrolled pewter handles, he could remember Harley talking about the months of work it had taken her to dismantle the cabinetry and refinish the wood. She’d lived without hinges and handles until she’d had the money to purchase the hardware so everything would match.

      Such attention to detail because she had cared so much.

      There were three large windows in the kitchen overlooking what appeared to be another walled edge of the property. Hard to tell with all the foliage. There were a lot of windows for such a tiny place, and he didn’t have any problem imagining why the Harley he had known had been so in love with her home. Secluded. Airy. Traditional. Right up her alley.

      Of course Marc had known the Harley who had been Anthony’s longtime girlfriend. Not the Harley who had left his brother to marry Courtney’s brother. That Harley was a stranger.

      Hurried footsteps through the open door brought Marc around in time to see Courtney reappear, the shallow breathing and high color in her cheeks as if she’d run the whole way.

      Covering the distance to the kitchen, she set a thick file folder on the table. “Lots of reading here.”

      Marc edged closer and flipped open the cover to riffle through the contents.

      Reports. Court documents. Profile pages. Correspondence.

      “How did you get all this?” he asked.

      “It’s the case file from work.”

      Normal rules just didn’t apply to any of the Gerard family. Marc should have seen that coming. Courtney wasn’t playing games. She had already made that clear. But this confidential file shouldn’t be anywhere but in her former office, particularly during an ongoing FBI investigation.

      She seemed to think she could do whatever she wanted to get what she wanted. Marc knew the type. He wondered if Courtney had a clue that he didn’t think much of the way she operated. Or her family. She probably wouldn’t care. She’d tell him to keep his opinions to himself and write him a check.

      “So how do you want to do this?” she asked. “I’ll swap my car before I need to take you home, so any idea when you’re going to want to leave?”

      Marc smiled then, a real smile he didn’t have to force for someone else’s benefit. No, this smile just happened, a memory from days when he’d actually had something to smile about.

      He didn’t want the complication of Courtney Gerard in his life right now, and he certainly didn’t need the complication of his attraction to her. He didn’t like who she was or what she stood for. But compliments of his nuisance family, she was his to deal with for the time being.

      So he would make the situation work for him.

      Folding his arms across his chest, he stared at her and said, “I won’t be leaving until we track down your kid. So why don’t you swing by my mother’s place while you’re out and grab my things?”

      * * *

      COURTNEY STARED AT MARC and blinked stupidly. He was waiting for her reaction. That much she knew.

      But she didn’t have one. Not yet, anyway.

      In that moment, she couldn’t decide what surprised her more —Marc’s declaration to become her guest or the purely physical sensation that dropped the bottom out of her stomach.

      Because she stood close to Marc DiLeo?

      Courtney knew this feeling, though she hadn’t experienced the sensation in a very, very long time.

      But...Marc DiLeo?

      She couldn’t begin to explain why she was suddenly so aware of everything about him. Everything. From the way he propped strong hands on the handle of his cane to the defiance radiating off him like summer heat. No denying he was an attractive man. That in itself was a DiLeo thing. Despite the scowl.

      Was Courtney suddenly so aware of him because they were alone? Now that she thought about it, she’d never actually been alone with him until he’d finagled his way into her car today.

      “Okay...well, okay,” she said.

      If Marc wanted to stay, there was no reason he couldn’t. She didn’t use this place, and more of his attention would be given to finding Araceli if he was away from family distractions. That worked for her.

      “I’ll need my things.” His expression was inscrutable, just intense eyes and that hint of defiance.

      Did he really expect her to deny him?

      “We can swing by your mom’s.”

      “You go. Tell her to throw my stuff in my suitcase. There’s only one. Bring that and my laptop case.”

      He should probably tell his own mother to pack his things, but his defiance was instigating hers. She needed his help. If he wanted to stay in her empty guest cottage and bum rides, then her guest cottage wouldn’t be empty anymore. No problem.

      But she wouldn’t run interference for Mama, who had bullied Marc in the first place. Mama had pushed the issue, and she deserved what she got. If Marc decided to temporarily move out, then Courtney wasn’t about to feel bad.

      “Sounds like you travel light,” she said. “I’ll go now then. Will you look through the file while I’m gone? We can work out the details of our arrangement when I get back.”

      “Sounds like a plan.”

      She slipped the cottage key from her pocket and handed it to him. “Make yourself at home.”

      Then she headed to the door, so very aware of each step, the measured length of her strides, the whisper of her shoes on the floor, the way her hands dangled at her sides as if she was suddenly unsure what to do with them. As if his dark gaze followed her every step. When she finally pulled the door shut, she inhaled deeply, apparently her first real breath in a while because she felt light-headed.

      What was wrong with her?

      She had way more important things to deal with than physical awareness of a man who was an idiot. Taking another deep breath, she walked briskly to her car. Anxiety must be getting the better of her or else her emotions СКАЧАТЬ