The Detective's Undoing. Jill Shalvis

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СКАЧАТЬ or thinking. She donned this protective mask every day, just as she did her makeup and clothes. It was a part of her. She needed no one, and no one needed her.

      But now she had a brother—eight-year-old Jacob. He was alone, too, or had been. That gave them a kinship she couldn’t ignore. Yet it went deeper than that, far deeper.

      For the first time in Delia’s life, she faced the truth…she needed to be needed by someone. Yes, she had her sisters, and yes, they loved one another with all their hearts.

      But they were independent.

      Jacob was too young for that. He was just a child, and needing was part of his life.

      Yet whenever she called him, which had been daily, he’d been distant, reserved. She understood.

      Still, protective feelings welled up. So did frustration and, yes, a good amount of bitterness and humiliation, for her mother hadn’t left a will. She’d left no information about her other child—Delia.

      She’d meant that little to her own mother.

      As a result, she was last in line for Jacob now. And because of his sizable inheritance from his deceased father, the court was doubly leery of Delia’s request. It didn’t help that she didn’t have a penny to her name. She worked sixty hours a week trying to make a success of their guest ranch, but the fact remained—she was a poor nobody.

      It was natural to think of Constance’s inheritance, the one Delia hadn’t cared about until now. If she was owner of the Triple M…well, that would be different, right? She’d have collateral, a real job. Importance.

      The court would have to consider her seriously then. As much as she hadn’t wanted to believe it, money did make the world go around.

      The wind blew, making her shiver. Reminding her that she was all too mortal. Reminding her that she was nearly twenty-six years old and still wishing for her prince to save her. He’d sure come in handy now, because no one could laugh at her if she was married to royalty. He’d be mature and kind. He’d love her above all else.

      He would not be big and broody and tough and rugged.

      He would not be rowdy and mischievous.

      He would not be anything like Cade McKnight.

      “I’m done riding,” she said.

      “You mean you’re done with me.”

      “Nothing personal,” she muttered.

      Which had him letting out a grim laugh. “Like hell.” But he turned his horse away without another word, almost as if he was just as eager as she to be alone.

      They made it halfway back to the ranch in silence. She watched the landscape, and Cade watched her. She felt his gaze on her hair, her face. Her body.

      She was used to men staring at her. Men had always stared at her since she’d hit maturity—it was a fact of life. She was five foot eight, willowy yet curvy, and blond. And yes, she supposed, beautiful.

      To her, it was a curse.

      But Cade’s gaze was different, she had to admit. It made her feel funny, rubbery in her limbs, liquidy in parts of her anatomy she didn’t usually pay attention to. And if a portion of her, a deep private portion, tingled with a strange anticipation, she could ignore it.

      She was not attracted to him.

      “I’m your friend, Delia,” Cade said into their awkward silence. “Or I could be.”

      It was just a word—friends. There was no reason for her heart to tip on its side.

      No reason at all.

      “We’re not. You usually ignore me, and if you don’t, we can hardly stand in the same room without shooting sparks off each other.”

      The expression on his face made her toes curl.

      “You going to deny it?” she pressed.

      He let out a short almost baffled laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, no. Maybe I used to be able to ignore you. But then I found you crying in the kitchen. It’s the funniest damn thing, but now I can’t get that out of my mind. And yeah, we shoot sparks off each other, enough to light up the city of Boise with electricity for a year, and it only seems to get worse.”

      She nodded, satisfied.

      Then he shattered that satisfaction. “But lust tends to do that.”

      “Who said anything about…”

      “Lust?” His crooked grin was appealing enough to coax one out of a saint. “Because you do realize that’s what those sparks are, right?”

      “Dream on, McKnight.” She pulled back on the reins and was grateful when her horse actually stopped. “This isn’t about lust or even friendship.”

      Cade stopped his horse, as well, again with no visible sign or word. “What, then?”

      “Ego.”

      “Ego?” He looked shocked.

      “Foolish male pride. Whatever you want to call it.”

      He stared at her for a second, then threw back his head and laughed. The rich sound echoed around them while she gritted her teeth.

      Eventually his amusement died and he sighed as he wiped away a tear of mirth. “I’m not certain what kind of jerks you were used to in L.A. But out here in the real world—” he snagged her reins and pulled her horse in close “—we do things different.”

      With one hand in front of her holding the leather, his other behind her bracing himself on the seat of her saddle, he leaned close. So close she could see that his eyes weren’t just dark brown as she’d thought, but layered with golden specks that danced with the sunlight. So close she could smell the one-hundred-percent male scent of him.

      So close she could do nothing but catch her breath and stare, feeling completely surrounded.

      Held.

      Good Lord, he just might be right about the lust part. “A man is a man,” she managed, proud of her steady voice.

      “Wrong,” he whispered. “And any time you want me to show you how different some men can be…” His voice had gone husky. His gaze dipped to her mouth, made her tummy flutter again. “You just tell me.”

      “Never going to happen.” Her voice wasn’t so steady now.

      He noticed and, damn him, his lips quirked. “Never say never.”

      She thought it would be safe to say it in this case, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

      And they rode the rest of the way back to the Triple M in complete silence.

      Chapter 2

      The Triple M Guest Ranch was to be open from Thursday to Sunday every week. СКАЧАТЬ