The Color of Ivy Read Online Free PDF Page A

Whatever it is ye be wanting, Mr. Michalski, ye can say here.”
    He looked down at her , noticing a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.  They made her appear almost childlike.  But it was a different story in her eyes.  Their unusual color left a haunting feel.  As if no life stared back from within their depths.
    “I wondered if perhaps I had been correct.  Our paths had crossed once before,” he lied.
    “I already told ye.  I don’t know ya.  Believe me, I would have remembered.”
    “How’s that?”
    A brief pause followed, filled with a swift look of female appreciation. Then it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
    Sam felt a startling response to her unguarded look.  He stiffened immediately.  The blood in his veins turned cold.
    “If you’ll excuse me, sir.  I’d like to return to me seat.”
    “When did you injure your leg?”
    Her cold eyes spun back around to meet his, the freckles above her nose crinkled in obvious confusion.  But more interestingly enough, fear danced in those eerily colored eyes.  “I said I gone and hit it on me chair already.”
    “ No one else seemed to notice you injuring it,” he pointed out.  “Come now, Ms. James, I hardly think you hit it hard enough to cause much trouble.”
    Her expression grew stiff.  “The Radford’s are not in the habit of noticing anything to do with me.  The chair leg was made of iron and proved quite painful.  If ye are so certain I am lying, Mr. Michalski, I suggest ye try hitting your own ankle upon it.”
    He ignored that.  “Is it possible the chair hit an old wound?”
    She froze then.  Her entire persona mirrored the coldness of her eyes.  “Good day, Mr. Michalski.”
    Just as she turned her back on him , he said, “You were right.”
    Pausing , but not looking back, she waited for him to continue.
    “I am searching for a woman.”
    This time she did shoot him a glance over her shoulder.  Her cold stone eyes held no sign of her internal thoughts.  “And ye believe I’m her?  Is that right?”
    “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
    Her chin lifted slightly as she told him, “I can assure ye, that I am not.”
    He tilted his head to one side and arched a brow.  “Assure me?  Now tell me, how is that possible?  Since apparently you have no idea who I’m looking for, how can you be so certain it isn’t you?”
    The smallest twitch in her forehead indicated his comment troubled her.  She shifted her foot backwards as if to retreat.  He held his stance, not making any attempt to follow, yet not wavering or breaking eye contact, and in the process silently letting her know she could no longer run.
    “I can’t be of any assistance to ye, Mr. Michalski.  I wish ye well in yer search.”  Taking another shuffling step away from him, she said, “I am returning to me seat now.  So, please, just leave me be.”
    He allowed her to move three spaces before he said, “Ivy McGregor.”
    She continued as if he hadn’t spoken.  A person would have thought the name hadn’t even registered, hadn’t struck a c hord, however Sam wasn’t just anyone.  Years of tracking down some of the country’s greatest outlaws had taught him a thing about reading and interpreting facial and body language.
    This woman possessed a talent of her own.  Being able to conceal her inner emotions was like watching a work of art for Sam.  He’d brought in many criminals over the years , but not one had the ability to mask their emotions the way this one did.  He reckoned she would have made one hell of a poker opponent.
    However, she had underestimated Sam’s own abilities.
    The tiniest flicker of her shoulder indicated the name had indeed hit a nerve.  And he had found his woman.
    “That’s the name of the woman I ’m looking for,” he continued, but she did not respond.  Instead, her pace only increased, her gait more awkward, causing the thin hips below her slim waist to shift with much pronunciation in her