Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned, she saw the men at the back still deep in discussion, so she pictured the older guy on the bike. He wore heavy engineer’s boots and floppy black leather chaps over blue jeans. An oversize black leather jacket completed the ensemble. She suppressed a chuckle at the image of this man on the powerful bike.
    Then she visualized the man behind him straddling the Harley. Her senses jarred at the way he stood and the way his broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist and hips, the way his dark hair curled slightly over the collar of his white polo shirt.
    Recognition hit just as he removed his glasses.
    Gannon.
    She caught her breath, and in that same moment, he looked directly at her. At a distance, without the motorcycle, without the jacket and helmet, he didn’t even look like the same man, and he certainly seemed less threatening. She waved a greeting.
    He nodded back, gesturing he’d be right with her. Her stomach lurched as if she’d just descended in an elevator at rocket speed.
    Morgan had told her Rhys Gannon was a chameleon, changing his persona to suit his purpose as often as he’d changed his address. On the very day Morgan had died, she’d said he was so convincing that no one would doubt his sincerity. Morgan had trusted him because she’d been in love.
    But Whitney wasn’t Morgan. And she’d stopped believing in love a long time ago. She squared her shoulders. A change of clothes didn’t change the person.
    “Good morning,” Rhys said from across the room after the other man left. Leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb to what looked like an office, he didn’t come forward to greet her. Instead, he watched her, his heavy-lidded gaze sweeping over her, dark lashes at half-mast. A smoldering look he made no attempt to disguise.
    “Good morning.” She walked toward him, vowing not to be unnerved by him or by her reluctance to tear her eyes from his near-perfect physique. For the first time since college, she thought about shooting a nude series.
    For the first time in her adult life, she wasn’t sure she could maintain her professional manner, her controlled reserve. It was one thing to act confident regardless of the situation, but to do it while lying through her teeth was a different story.
    But then, the only thing she really had to lie about was why she was there. After all, she was a photographer, and she was going to photograph motorcycles.
    “You found your way back to the inn?” he asked.
    He looked older than she’d expected and she couldn’t tell from his expression whether he liked the fact that she’d returned today or considered her an intrusion.
    “I did. The owners weren’t there, but a very nice woman who said she was filling in for the night gave me a room.”
    “Sleep well?”
    Whitney nodded. “Uh-huh.” She’d been so tired she’d crashed within seconds after she’d hit the bed. This morning she’d gotten up early, dressed and left without seeing a soul.
    “I didn’t know if you’d come—or when.” She extended her hand. “As I said last night, my name is Whitney Sheffield.”
    “Rhys. Rhys Gannon.” He clasped her hand in a firm handshake, his earlier provocative look replaced by an engaging smile that dimpled his right cheek.
    As he released her hand, she cast about for something to say. Something that wouldn’t sound as though she was probing for personal information.
    “Rhys. Yes, I saw the name on your license plate. Welsh, isn’t it?”
    He arched a dark eyebrow and laughed. His deep voice held a note of playfulness. “Yeah. Which was tough in school since no one knew it was pronounced Reese.”
    “A family name?
    “It is. My father has the same name.”
    She stepped forward, next to a display rack and pulled out a book titled Touring Arizona on Your Harley. She riffled the pages, then glanced casually at the blurb on the back cover, wondering where the heck the store owner was. And why did Gannon look as if he was running the