Unmasked Read Online Free PDF

before she could withdraw, he laid his hand over hers.
    The contact of his skin with hers was electric. There was no other way to describe it. He didn’t squeeze or hold her. The weight of his fingers—and the memories—kept her in place.
    They used to hold hands a lot. It had been a chaste caress, but to two teenagers in love it had been something special.Whether they’d been sitting in the bleachers cheering their team or riding the streetcar or walking home, they’d always been touching. She’d loved the way her small hand had fit in his large one. The simple touch had made her feel protected. Sometimes when he’d smiled a certain way, it had made her feel giddy.
    Above all, it had made her feel cherished.
    She moved her gaze to their joined hands. The long, supple fingers that covered her knuckles now weren’t those of the boy she’d known. They belonged to a successful and well-respected surgeon.
    Jackson had become a doctor, she reminded herself. Just as he’d always dreamed.
    Then he’d left her behind so he could go off and save the world.
    Something ugly stirred deep inside. It surprised her—she’d thought she’d buried that resentment a long time ago. At least the pain had faded to a distant ache. As she’d told Melanie, he wasn’t her Jackson anymore.
    Cutlery clanked near the tables where the buffet was being set up. Voices drifted on the breeze, mixing with the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves to bring Charlotte firmly back to the present. The warmth from the memories was snuffed out, finally allowing her to focus on what she was seeing.
    A jagged red line cut through the sprinkling of dark hair on the back of Jackson’s right hand.
    “Mon Dieu,” she murmured. “You didn’t tell me you were injured, too.”
    “What?”
    “In the fire. How—”
    “No, that happened a while ago,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “There was a bombing at the hospital in Kabul where I was working. I caught some shrapnel.”
    “How awful.”
    “It’s a hazard of the job.”
    “Miss Marchand, we heard you had some trouble here yesterday.”
    At the voice, her shoulders stiffened. She had been so wrapped up in her conversation with Jackson she hadn’t been aware that anyone had approached, yet she recognized Richard Corbin’s cigarette-roughened drawl. Until now she’d only spoken with him on the phone. What on earth was he doing here now? She turned, not bothering to put on a pleasant expression.
    Two men stood in front of her. The taller one met her gaze aggressively, yet it was his companion who made Charlotte uneasy—the way his flat gaze darted around the courtyard gave him the look of a vulture searching for his next meal.
    Jackson moved closer to her side, positioning himself so his chest pressed gently against her shoulder. “Do you know these men, Charlotte?”
    “We haven’t met,” she replied.
    The shorter man nodded. “Not in person, but I believe Miss Marchand knows who we are. I’m Dan Corbin and this is my brother Richard.”
    “The Corbins are interested in buying the hotel,” Charlotte said to Jackson. “My mother has repeatedly declined their offers.”
    “How is Mrs. Marchand?” Richard asked. “We heard she had some trouble, too.”
    “A carjacking, wasn’t it?” Dan shook his head. “How unfortunate. Crime is everywhere these days.”
    “I hate to be rude, gentlemen,” Charlotte said, “but I’m really very busy, so if you’ll excuse me?”
    “Since your mother hasn’t been around lately, Miss Marchand, we’d like you to pass this on to her.” Dan reached into his suit coat and withdrew a thick white envelope. Her mother’s name was scrawled across the front in black ink. “This is a business proposition,” he said, holding it out to Charlotte. “Under the circumstances, it should be of interest to all of you.”
    She crossed her arms. “As my mother already made clear, we have no business to discuss. The Hotel Marchand is not for