Suspicious Ways Read Online Free PDF

the yachts and motorboats make their languid way through the gentle swell. And at this point in time, he really needed to relax.
    An image of a tall, slender brunette with flashing blue eyes invaded his mind, and Jack dragged his hands through his already disheveled hair. There was the problem du jour , the reason he couldn’t relax. Ali Graham.
    Removing his glasses from his face, he threw them onto the nearby outdoor dining table, the clatter barely registering in his brain as he rubbed at his eyes. He’d spent the evening trying everything he could to not think about Ali, yet all he’d achieved was a blinding headache and a tension he knew had nothing to do with anger. Even the two hours spent catching up with Bill had offered little distraction. Damn it. Jack was meant to be the one in control of the situation, not Ali. Since when had he become such a sexually frustrated mess?
    The answer to that was simple. Since he’d first met her.
    Yeah, that was right. But as aroused as he was right now—and curse it, he was—he couldn’t stop remembering the look on her face, the hurt and wounded pride in her eyes when she realized he had taken ownership of everything she held dear. Nor could he stop thinking of the cold contempt that flashed over her features as she flatly reminded him he’d left her all those years ago.
    Okay, he’d been less than a caring past acquaintance at the marina. He couldn’t deny that, no matter what spin he put on it. Truth be told, he’d been a downright bastard, cutting her pride to shreds with words he couldn’t believe he was saying. He’d meant to go easy on her, he really had, but when he’d seen her aboard Wind Seeker , when he’d watched her move over its deck in those short shorts and snug T-shirt that revealed just how sensual a woman she’d become in his absence, every nerve and sense in his body had sprung into eager life. He’d been all too ready to rediscover every delicious inch of her body his mind remembered with no effort at all.
    A harsh grunt of self-disgust scraped at the back of his throat. There was no nice way of putting it—his brain had slipped straight into his pants.
    “It’s not the first time, Jack,” he reminded himself, staring at the lights of Sydney dancing in the dark water before him. “She’s been affecting you that way from the second you first met her.”
    That was true. So true he’d moved to Fremantle after her father’s death to try and escape the temptation she presented. A temptation to which he’d already once succumbed.
    It had made not one bit of difference though. He’d tossed and turned in his large bed every night spent on the other side of Australia, unable to sleep until he’d relieved his body of its hot, explosive pressure. His mind had tried desperately to convince him it was Ali’s hand and not his own releasing his pleasure, while his heart had known damn well it would be satisfied with no one else but her.
    Now here he was, back in Australia to supposedly help her when she was in dire straits, and what had he done? Taken control of her business, ownership of her yacht and reinforced every negative opinion she had about him. He shook his head and let out another savage grunt. “What a piece of work you are, Jack.”
    Thwarting Zane Peterson, saving Ali from the prick was meant to relieve Jack’s guilt, not add to it.
    Staring at the lights fringing the harbor’s water, their twinkling beauty lost to his frustrated contempt, Jack cursed quietly.
    The very thought of Peterson even standing near Ali filled Jack with cold rage. He clenched his fists, his blunt nails digging into his palms, his shoulder muscles bunching. Zane Peterson. Why, of every bloody man in Sydney, did Ali have to be connected to Zane Peterson?
    With a ragged sigh, Jack closed his eyes, a wrenching ache tainting his anger. Peterson had seduced his niece four years ago. His sweet, naïve niece. Peterson had seduced her and dragged her into his