Everything but the marriage Read Online Free PDF Page A

simply have been buried in some graveyard, records of her death filed under the name Jane Doe? And would anyone have cared, one way or another, including her?
    She was too thin. Her pale skin was stretched taut over cheekbones that were too sharp. One arm lay on top of the blanket, and the bones in her wrist were clearly visible. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and reached down to circle her wrist, frowning when he saw how much his finger overlapped his thumb.
    How long had it been since she'd eaten a decent meal? She'd had nothing with her but the clothes on her back—no purse, no jewelry, no identification. Maybe she was one of the growing number of homeless, unable to find work, slipping through the cracks in the welfare system.

    Her skin was cool to the touch. Only the faint but steady beat of her pulse under his finger reminded him that he was touching a living, breathing woman and not a pale statue.
    How had she gotten out here, so far from town? It didn't seem likely that she'd walked this far. Unless she'd caught a ride from someone. Or maybe his original speculation had been right. She'd left a car somewhere across the river. Tomorrow he'd go look for it, tow it back here if necessary.
    He released her arm, straightening slowly, his eyes still on her face. She was fine boned. Even with the added pounds she should be carrying, he suspected she'd have a fragile look about her. Was she attractive? He tilted his head, trying to picture her with a little more flesh on her bones, a touch of color in her cheeks.
    But the image wouldn't quite come into focus. He kept seeing those blue-green eyes, completely empty of expression.
    He'd seen a lot of misery during his time in prison. His first cell mate had hung himself a year after Devlin arrived. But he couldn't remember seeing quite that same emptiness in Sal's eyes before he killed himself.
    He shrugged the memories off and turned away from the bed. Whatever had happened to bring the woman to this low, it wasn't his problem. He'd fished her out of the river, given her a place to spend the night.
    In the morning, he'd feed her breakfast and take her to the hospital or any other place she wanted to go.

    He'd provide her with money for a fresh start if that was what she needed. Money was the one thing he had plenty of these days. But that was as deep as his involvement was going to go.
    Devlin ate the reheated stew, listening to the light patter of the rain on the roof. The weather report on the radio was promising dear skies by morning, which meant he could start on the redwood shingles that would cover the exterior of the house. And if the rain continued, there were plenty of things that needed domg inside. That was the thing about building a house, there was always work to do.
    By the time he'd finished rinsing off his plate, the rain had stopped. Looking out the window over the sink, he could get an occasional glimpse of stars through the tattered cloud cover. That meant he'd be able to work outside tomorrow.
    After he'd gotten the St. John woman settled, he reminded himself. He felt a mild twinge of annoyance. One thing he'd done his best to avoid, in the year since he'd left prison, was involvements of any sort.
    He hadn't sought out friendships, hadn't gone looking for female companionship to ease an occasional endless night. Bitter experience had taught him that such ties, no matter how fleeting they were, could extract a higher price than he wanted to pay. Bedding Laura Sampson had cost him eight years of his life.
    Not that he expected every such experience to end in a prison sentence. But it lingered in the back of his

    mind that he'd paid a high price for indulging a fleeting sexual urge.
    It wasn't just sexual involvement he'd avoided. He'd even kept a certain distance from Kelly. She didn't know where he'd been or what he'd done in the years since he left home, and Devlin preferred to keep it that way. It was enough that he was back in her life.
    Reed