Suspicious Ways Read Online Free PDF Page A

she stood in the same spot every night while Jack ran his hands over her body and his lips over her neck. That was before her father’s death. Before his funeral.
    Christ, what a stupid, immature idiot she’d been.
    With a strangled sob, Ali turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. The sudden silence was heavy and oppressive, highlighting just how loudly and quickly her heart was beating. She sat motionless in her seat, studying the house. Where was Jack at that very second? In the living room? The master bedroom? She gnawed on her bottom lip a little. What would he do when he heard her voice on the intercom?
    What if he’s not alone? What if the Ferrari belongs to someone else? Someone female? One of those tall, leggy blondes he seemed to—
    “Enough,” she snapped, gripping the steering wheel harder. “This is getting you nowhere. Stop being pathetic and go and get what you came for.”
    Her heart beat faster. What had she come for? Her yacht? Or more of Jack’s—
    She shut down the unsettling thought, dragging her fingers through her hair. “This is dangerous,” she muttered, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to the wheel.
    But her body wasn’t listening. It remembered all too well her teenage fantasies about this house and the man who lived in it. It remembered the sexual reality of that man’s touch. Little shots of heat flared low in her stomach, stabbing into her groin. A thrill rippled through her body, sending her already strung nerves into a heightened state.
    “God, Ali.” Her snarl tore into the cabin’s silence. “Get a damn grip, will you?”
    She flung opening her car door and threw herself from the car, her stare locked on the large second-floor windows glowing with warm light. Her pulse thumped like a trapped butterfly beneath her ear. “Just get him to give you more time,” she muttered. “That’s all you need, more time to pay off the loan. And whatever you damn-well do, don’t kiss him.”
    She took a step towards the high security gates, her fists clenched, her jaw clenched, a flutter between her thighs making her panties damp. Damp. Damn it, she was in so much trouble.
     
    Stepping from his cool air-conditioned living room out onto the expansive second-floor balcony, Jack pulled in a deep breath and the sweet smell of a summer night on Sydney Harbor filled his lungs. He’d forgotten how distinctive the scent was—part eucalyptus, part sea-salt, part jasmine. Now he was back home, he wondered how he could ever go without it again. He took another breath, deeper this time, closing his eyes as he rested his hands loosely on the steel rail before him.
    His younger brother had left not fifteen minutes ago, complaining in that good-natured way of his about being kicked out of his home.
    “My home, Bill,” Jack had corrected him with a wide grin, plucking the house keys from William’s fingers. “House-sitting usually means returning the house when the owner comes back.”
    William had protested with a laugh, his sharp blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, well, I guess this means I’ll have to take Alyssa up on her offer, doesn’t it.”
    Jack chuckled, not even remotely concerned who Alyssa was. When it came to William, Jack had figured out a long time ago the women were quite happy to line up and wait. Alyssa was likely to be Brenda next week, Brenda most likely to be Catriona the week after that. When it came right down to it, William McKenzie—Australia’s most infamous film-director—never seemed short of companionship.
    Now that William had headed off to whoever Alyssa was, the house was once again silent. Jack leant against the stainless-steel rail, listening to the sounds of Sydney wafting over the balmy harbor breeze. He let out a long sigh. Damn, he was glad he hadn’t sold this place when he’d left for the US. There was nothing more relaxing than watching the lights of the surrounding homes dance and reflect in the night waters, listening to