Man with a Past Read Online Free PDF

appeared to have been broken multiple times, a small scar lined the right side of his mouth and chin while another, more prominent scar cut across a good three inches of his neck before it disappeared beneath the band of his shirt. He’d been in his share of fights. But had he won them?
    â€œWe’re certainly lookin’ to hire—”
    â€œBut we need references.” She shot Wilson a pointed glare she hoped would remind him whose name was now on the deed. “And pay is mostly room and board, very little cash.”
    Joe Brody looked around at the dated seventies kitchen. She could practically see his mind working.
    â€œHow little?”
    She wet her lips and stated the figure that had made the last guy laugh so hard, he’d left the house wiping his eyes and short of breath.
    Mr. Brody didn’t look happy about it, either.
    â€œI’ll take it,” he murmured with a slow nod.
    She stared, unsure she’d heard him correctly. “You acc—”
    Halle-lu-jah!
    The man nodded again. His gaze flicked about the room rapidly, but paused on her for a few seconds before he looked away. “My father’s in Ridgewood, the nursing home,” he clarified, voice husky. “I need to stick close until he’s released.”
    Ashley frowned at his behavior, not sure she liked how he wouldn’t hold her gaze. “So when your father’s released you’ll quit? Getting this house ready to open as a bed-and-breakfast at the end of next spring is a long-term job, Mr. Brody, and—”
    â€œJoe.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and shifted his weight from foot to foot. The water at their feet rippled. “Call me Joe. And we can, uh, discuss this later.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw.
    â€œWhy later?”
    He swallowed again, the sound audible. A groan?
    â€œJust thought you might want to change into dry clothes, that’s all.”
    Mortification deluged her. Could she really have forgotten she stood there soaking wet?
    She lunged by the wanna-be handyman, each step a humiliating splash as she crossed the flooded floor. “I’ll be back,” she muttered, absurdly upset her statement wasn’t more Schwarzeneggerish.
    â€œI’ll get him started on the cleanup, missy. No problem.”
    No problem? Yeah, right. The first man to agree to take on the job of repairing her house and she’d just given him an impromptu peep show.
    Ashley pulled the T-shirt away from her body as she stomped her way up the stairs. Her pace lightened to a tiptoe when she passed Max’s room and entered her own, but once her door closed with a snick of the antique latch, she sagged against its frame and covered her face with her hands.
    What had she done to deserve this?
    A shiver racked her despite the heat of the day and she grabbed the fabric clinging at her waist, yanked it over her head and shivered again when water trickled down her back. She ignored the goose pimples, and stalked into the bathroom between her room and the nursery.
    Her last freshly laundered towel awaited in the linen closet but her hand froze over the cloth. She wouldn’t have time to do laundry today the way things were going so if she wanted a fresh towel tonight after her bath, well—
    â€œThis is what you get for thinking a hundred-year-old Victorian would make a great fixer-upper.”
    Changing directions, she grabbed the already damp towel hanging on a hook by the tub and dried off. When she finished, she wrapped it around her dripping hair and stalked back into her bedroom for underwear and a change of clothes.
    The warmth of the shower called to her and shewished she could jump in and stay there until Joe Brody gave up and left. But hiding equaled defeat.
    No, no way. She relegated the coward within her to a firmly locked closet in her mind, yanked on fresh jeans and grabbed her favorite T-shirt, which was black with “Bite