Crimes of the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

Devon talked about computers, Jewel noted the jubilation written all over Sean’s face. He’d suffered his whole life not having a man in his world. She’d tried to fill the void, but knew the impossibility of it. No one could take the place of someone’s father. Haven’t I learned that first hand? And Devon had, too.
    A hollow ache behind her rib cage came to life, for her son, for herself. Her little boy had shouldered too many responsibilities trying to take care of her, thrusting himself into adulthood far beyond his time. He was missing his childhood. He’s growing up too fast.
    “Mom? Mom?”
    Shaking off the well of despair that nearly engulfed her, she focused on Sean. “What were you saying?”
    “It’s okay if dad has dinner with us, isn’t it? I mean you did put that big roast in the crock pot and everything.” He waved a hand around the room, pointing out the disrepair. “And all he’s got is this for now.”
    Smiling tightly, she nodded. “Sure.” With that she acknowledged the obvious. Sean needs his father. I can’t do anything about my own problem with mine, but I do have the power to give him what he needs the most: Devon. And, by the looks of it, Devon needed him .
    Devon winked at her, clearly sensing her unease, yet staking a silent claim over his son, over her.
    Something churned inside of her. A long buried desire sprang forth. A tiny pocket inside of her yearned for a man who wanted her, who could fall in love with her . Now, gauging Devon’s relaxed, triumphant stance, she suspected she’d have to settle for a man who needed what only she gave him: The Wainwright sterling reputation in exchange for his redemption. His trophy.
    Did she dare put her heart in harm’s way?
     
    ***
     
    Inhaling, Devon relished the mouthwatering scents of pot roast, vegetables, baked apples, and cinnamon that still permeated her blue and white kitchen. The mingled scents reminded him of his impressions of a loving home, something he’d never had himself.
    Collecting the dirty dishes from the small round table, Devon sensed the swelling tension mount between Jewel and him. She washed dishes, her back stiff and straight. She doesn’t want me here, invading her space.
    He couldn’t help but linger over her glossy black hair, small waist, and softly rounded hips in form-fitting jeans. Nerve endings danced as he imagined holding her in his arms again and caressing every inch of her lush body.
    Trying to shake off the invisible web of passion swirling around him, he hefted a stack of crockery. As plates rattled together and silverware clinked, Devon took stock of her home. From the outside, the two-story duplex blended into all the rest in the long row of what once were factory houses. But he’d bet good money that the vibrant color scheme and plant strewned cozy atmosphere she favored set hers above the rest.
    “Hey, Dad, what kind of yellow did you say your Corvette is? Kev wants to know,” Sean yelled from upstairs, having begged to be excused only minutes before so he could phone his best friend.
    A smile tugged at his lips and his heart expanded. Dad. “Competition yellow. Hey, ask him and his mom if he can take a spin with us in, say, half an hour.”
    He witnessed the slight flinch in Jewel’s shoulders as he drew near. A waft of roses tickled his nostrils. Her scent. In her stockinged feet the top of her head just about reached his chin. Dreams of her tucking her head in the space between his jaw and shoulder flashed through his mind.
    Trying to banish his wayward musings, he admitted, “In spite of what you may think, I’m not about to strangle you. Although, I have to admit, it did cross my mind while we were in the stables.”
    She swiveled to face him, encountering his gaze. Just as quickly, she turned away. But not before he detected the flash of something deep in her eyes. Fear? Guilt? Despair?
    Her fingers brushed his as she reached for the pile of dishes. A current blazed up his arm