Unlawfully Wedded. Kelsey Roberts

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      Tory turned to find that his expression had changed. His eyes were still narrowed, but she saw flashes of barely leashed anger that stilled her stiff movements.

      “Any reason Rose wouldn’t trust us together?” he asked, one dark eyebrow arched high.

      “We aren’t exactly close,” she offered, hoping her voice sounded more calm than she actually felt.

      “Not because I haven’t tried,” he returned as a lazy half smile curved one corner of his mouth.

      Tory directed a heavy sigh toward her bangs. “Don’t start, J.D.”

      He moved with a quickness and grace that belied his size. Suddenly he was in front of her, his broad, bare chest dominating her vision. “Believe me, doll,” he began in a low hum, “when I start on you, you’ll know it.”

      His words burned against her ears and she fought the instinct to raise a hand and slap his arrogant face. But she decided to stand her ground. She would not react. It was, she had learned, her only weapon against this man’s blatant maleness. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat on the word. “As you can see, I’m fine, so you can just go crawl back under your rock.”

      She smiled up at him, fighting the constriction in her throat when she looked at him through the thickness of her lashes. J.D. didn’t move. Not at all. He simply allowed his body to heat the air between them. Forced her to breathe in the scent of his skin. Power fairly radiated from this man. Power that Tory was only beginning to comprehend. One thing she knew, she realized as she struggled to hold his gaze, J. D. Porter was way out of her league. She surrendered, closing her eyes before lowering her chin fractionally.

      “Thank you for staying,” she said after a drawn-out silence, punctuated only by the even sound of his breathing. Perhaps graciousness might accomplish her goal of dismissing this disturbing man.

      “No problem,” he said as he slowly stepped back. The edge to his voice was still there, but it wasn’t quite as sharp.

      Tory turned back to the sink, thinking how helpful it might be to douse herself with cold water. J.D. somehow managed to ignite small fires in every cell of her body. She reached up into the cabinet in search of a coffee cup. His sharp intake of breath was as thrilling as it was disquieting. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the action, however innocent, had resulted in her flashing the big man a goodly amount of leg. She lowered her arm slowly, snidely hoping to give him a healthy dose of his own medicine.

      With a cup of coffee in hand, she finally mustered the nerve to look at him again. The flash of anger was gone, all right, but it had been replaced by something even more devastating. Hunger—raw, passionate and definitely frightening. A small voice of reason chanted that saying about playing with fire as she bolted for the living room.

      J.D. followed, his pace slow, but determined. It conjured visions of a predator stalking its prey. Tory wasn’t at all sure she could handle being this man’s quarry.

      “Rose called earlier,” he said conversationally.

      His calm, businesslike demeanor only made her more aware of her own raging pulse. The man was obviously some sort of machine. She’d seen him do this time and time again during the course of their short acquaintance. J.D. could be in a rage one minute, calm as a gentle breeze the next.

      “I should call and apologize,” Tory said, tracing the top of her cup with her fingernail.

      “For what?”

      “Falling apart yesterday.”

      “Appropriate under the circumstances,” he said as he turned one of her metal chairs and mounted it. His well-developed forearms rested against its back.

      Her interest fell to his exposed stomach, wondering absently how those ripples of muscle would feel beneath her fingertips.

      “Don’t you think?”

      “Sorry,” Tory mumbled as her attention dropped to study a polyurethaned knot in the wooden floor.

      “I said, I thought your actions were appropriate under the circumstances. That must have been quite a shock for you.”

      “It was,” she admitted softly. “I still can’t believe he’s been there all this time.”

      “Where did you think he was?”

      Sitting at the table and tucking her bare feet under the hem of her short robe, Tory placed the coffee cup on the table. “I just always believed he’d suffered some sort of midlife crisis and bolted.”

      “Leaving his loving wife and daughter behind?”

      Tory peered up at him through her lashes, trying to gauge his sincerity. Unfortunately, J.D. had the perfect face for poker. It revealed absolutely nothing.

      Her lids fluttered closed as she felt a swell of emotion grip her chest. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve hated him all these years. How many times I’ve wished him dead for what he did to my mother.”

      “You didn’t know.”

      Somehow his words failed to bring absolution.

      “Mother,” she said, her eyes open and straining against her tight lids. “I’ve got to go out to Ashley Villas.”

      “Where?”

      “My mother’s home,” she said by way of explanation.

      Tory deposited her coffee cup and turned toward the bedroom in a flurry of activity. It took several seconds for her brain to register the fact that J.D. hadn’t moved a blessed muscle.

      “I don’t mean to be antisocial, Mr. Porter,” she said stiffly, “but I’ve got to go see my mother. Tell her...”

      Nodding, J.D. rose and began buttoning his shirt. Tory refused to look, no matter how much she might want to.

      “How long will it take you to get ready?”

      “How long?” she gasped.

      “Minutes? Hours? How long?”

      “Why?”

      “Because I need to know how soon to pick you up.”

      “Why would you pick me up?”

      “Because your car is still at the Rose Tattoo.”

      “So,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “I can grab the bus and pick it up.”

      “No, you can’t.” J.D. dug into the front pocket of his jeans. Instantly she recognized her key ring as it dangled from his forefinger.

      “Give me my keys,” she instructed, annoyance stiffening her spine.

      “Can’t,” he drawled with an exaggerated sigh.

      “Can’t or won’t?”

      “Can’t,” he insisted, pretending to be hurt by her insinuation. “The doctor СКАЧАТЬ