The Player - By Rhonda Nelson Page 0,25
wearing the ugliest shirt in the Northern Hemisphere—one that was better suited to a lumberjack and not a woman who looked like a cover model—but that shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans which fitted her quite nicely. Her delectable ass presently tested the seams of the worn denim and he found himself silently wishing he had either X-ray vision or the ability to make her pants instantly vanish.
What the hell. Why not wish for both?
She’d tied her hair back into a long ponytail at the nape of her neck and the cool morning breeze flirted with the ends of her espresso curls. She looked sexy and competent and…wholesome, Jamie realized with a start.
Now there was a word he didn’t usually associate with a woman he was attracted to. Stacked, sexy, dim—those were the qualities most of the women he hooked up with possessed. No muss, no fuss. Attraction, action, reaction, end of relationship.
Audrey, he knew, wasn’t that kind of girl. And yet he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another female in his life. Was it because he couldn’t have her? The so-called thrill of the forbidden? Had Garrett’s orders somehow made her even more attractive to him simply because he knew he wasn’t supposed to touch her? His gaze slid over the delicate slope of her cheek, the curve of her brow, the dainty shell of her ear and his heart did a funny little squeeze he would have labeled indigestion had he eaten this morning.
That would have been the simple explanation—the one he wished like hell he could cling to—but he knew better. In an act of what he could only deduce as divine punishment for his mistreatment of women, the Almighty had placed him with the one woman in the world whom he instinctively knew could touch his soul…and had made her offlimits.
If that wasn’t divine retribution he didn’t know what was.
She straightened. “Now we paint,” she said brightly.
Ah, yes. For a moment there he’d forgotten.
Audrey chuckled, the sound soft and curiously soothing to his ears. “Don’t look so glum. Remember, this one is for my grandfather.”
Jamie accepted his paints, brush and cup with a vengeful smile. “That’s right,” he told her. “He’s got a fondness for orchids, right?”
“He does,” she confirmed hesitantly. “But I thought you might want to paint the lake.”
Jamie wet his brush and dipped it into the red, toyed around with the combination of pigment to water until he reached the right shade of pink. Pussy-pink, Jamie thought, stifling a chuckle. “Nope. I’ll paint an orchid.”
Clearly suspecting that he was up to something, Audrey slid him a guarded glance. “Suit yourself. I’m painting the lake.”
“Good. It can be a gift for me.”
A smile flirted with her lips while she played around with her paintbrush. “Why would I give it to you?”
He purposely let his gaze slide over her. “So I’ll have a memento of you when I go home.”
She cleared her throat. “And home’s in Atlanta, right?”
“It is.”
“My grandfather mentioned you’d left the military and had gone into a private security business with some friends. Also Rangers, right? In the same unit?”
He could only imagine what else he’d mentioned, Jamie thought. No doubt the sneaky bastard had told her about Danny, too. The thought had been offhand, but now that he truly considered it, Garrett would have most certainly told her about Danny. And if he’d told her about Jamie’s friends, he’d definitely told her about Danny. Furthermore, he would have cited it as a reason for his visit. Jamie’s fingers tensed around the brush and he mentally swore.
Repeatedly.
God, how could he not realize that before now? He suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, two adjectives he’d just as soon not associate with himself. Danny’s death was a private pain, one he had no intention of sharing with anybody. You know, it was one thing to send him up here to work some behind-the-scenes machinations to keep her from marrying an asshole, but to use his own grief as a means to that end was beyond the pale.
And Garrett had seriously underestimated him if he thought he would simply let that slide.
Belatedly remembering that he was supposed to be carrying on a conversation, Jamie finally managed to respond to her comment. “I am in the private security business,” he confirmed. “With friends. Me and a couple of guys who were also under your grandfather’s command opened up shop a few months ago.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, putting more effort into his painting. He